Maurice Hewlett

“ The year sped quickly, as happy years will do; the harvest of the earth was gathered, the winter fell, the clinging mists, the still and deadly cold. But they were a happy household at Brattalithe, for Gudrid was found to be a solvent of much domestic ferment. Her sweet manners drew even Theodhild to come in and out of the house, and hushed the storms which periodically swept over Freydis the Wild. At Yule there was a feast of many days, singing, eating and drinking, and games in the snow for the young men. Gudrid sat apart and watched it, Thorstan never far away from her. ”

“ It was hard upon the winter; the days were short, the nights bitter cold. The fog, thick and white like a fleece, seemed incapable of lifting. The wind came in short spells, the sea was lumpy. But one day as they were labouring and rolling, the ship straining and cordage creaking, Thorbeorn lifted his head, and bore hard upon the helm. "Breakers!" he shouted, and the crew sprang to the rail. A dark form seemed to lift out of the fog, like a core of blackness, and clouds of sea-birds wheeled overhead with harsh clamour. ”

“ Gudrid shed tears at the parting with old Eric Red, knowing that she would never see him again. "Farewell, sweetheart," he said to her; "you leave this world the better for having had you in it." He rode his old white pony down to the quay, and sat there watching the ships go out with the tide. His red cloak was the last she saw of the haven.
The voyage was smooth, with a fair wind all the way. First they went round to the West Settlement, and Gudrid looked out for Lucefrith where her darkest days had also been her brightest. ”

“ And worse was to come—and I almost killed a young man for it—and after that I hated men, as I do still."
"They mean no harm," said Gudrid. "They do after their kind."
"But their kind is not mine. To be held in a man's arm is horrible to me."
"It is good to me, sometimes," said Gudrid.
"But when I saw you with Thorstan's child about to be born—and saw how rich and sedate you walked the ways, and how peace sat upon your forehead like a wreath, then I grudged you." Freydis turned round in the bed and showed her burning face. ”

“ Thorstan Black owned to it. "There is no people but ours of Iceland, I do believe, who would hold out against this white death," he said. "So fast as we come we die of it. Then come others, and so the game goes on. It is the fighting we love; we were always fighters—what with horses, or our young men. But here we fight with the earth, sea and sky, and do little slaughter of our own kind."
"It is the fog that kills us," said Grimhild; and Gurth smothered his cough and hugged himself over the fire.
Gudrid said: "Why should you stay here? I think it is a terrible country. ”

“ But Heriolf scouted him. "Hey," he said, "please yourself! But as for Gudrid, let her alone. Why should she not hear what the world has to say to her? What harm can come to a good girl? All kinds make this world."
Gudrid, whose hair he pulled, as he spoke, in a very friendly way, seeing his eyes twinkling and his lips twitching, coloured, but said that she should like to be at the feast. ”

“ All the women curtseyed and kissed her hand, and presently Heriolf brought Gudrid to her. Gudrid did not kiss her hand, but curtseyed and spoke her fairly. Thorberg frowned, not unkindly.
"And who art thou, my child?"
Gudrid said, "I am a stranger, not long come to Greenland. I am
Thorbeorn's daughter, of Bathbrink in Iceland."
"You have a good face, and a fair one," said Thorberg, "and yet you will not kiss my hands." Gudrid coloured and looked down. "Perhaps the day will come when you will kiss them," Thorberg said. "It would be no shame to you to do it." ”

“ One little twinkling light before the altar shone to her through the fog and bade her still to hope.
Then there was Freydis. Oddly enough Freydis took to her, though she pretended to despise her. "You are one of those women whom men go mad about—one of the meek, still women who madden men," she said. "But I am one whom men madden rather; for I hate them and detest their ways, and yet cannot get on without them." Gudrid denied her maddening qualities, and denied that she was meek or still. ”

“ Her eyes returned to Gudrid, who stood just below her.
"As for you, my daughter," she said, "I can read what is in store for you as if it was written in a book. You will have three husbands here in Greenland, and shall not go far to get them. All will be honourable men. One will be a famous man, and one an ugly man; but he will be kind. With all of them you will go great journeys over sea, but they will not all last long. One journey you will go, to a country far from here, which will be of the greatest length, and have hardships in it, and wonders, and a good gift for you. ”

“ Orme told him who she was and of what stock. Einar's colour was high. "She is a prize for a good man indeed," he said. "And many and many a man has tried after her, beyond doubt?"
"Many and many a man," said Orme; "you are right there. But she is not for the first comer, nor yet for the second. I won't answer for herself, if herself had anything to say in it—which isn't likely. But for her father the Franklin, I will say as much as this, that he's a great man, and knows it, though not so well to do as he was. And he will be hard to come at in the matter of Gudrid." ”

“ After that she saw Theodhild at Mass, and went home with her to her hermitage and told her the news. Theodhild said little, but one thing she said struck Gudrid. She said: "You will have much trouble, and give more of yourself than you can afford. But you will leave something to give to God at the end—more than I have left." Gudrid said: "It is foretold of me that I shall have three husbands, then go to Iceland and live as pleases me best." "It may well be so," said Theodhild. "Love is all to women, but if they can love God they are happiest. Love of man is more sorrow than joy. ”

“ Thorbeorn made ready to sail to Ericsfrith, and Gudrid was able to forget that she was marked with a curse.
So the day for sailing came, a bright spring day with a soft wind, which crisped the waters of the bay and heaped froth upon the stones. At parting, old Heriolf twinkled his kind and frosty eyes upon Gudrid. "Farewell, my child," he said; "you are a notable woman who will do great things." She smiled, but sadly. "It seems I am to bring unhappiness to many," she said. "No, no, that's not how I look at it," said Heriolf. "Men must die, we all know. ”

“ Then looking, he saw the helm-bright Valkyrs coursing the air, keeping pace with the horsemen below. They met in a crash by the Wolf rock; the swords flamed, the spears were like flying stars. Over the dead Hodbrord Sigrun the Valkyr cried in triumph, "Never for your arms is Sigrun of Sevafell," and as she spoke the arm of Helgi the hero held her fast.
Their love was fierce, but it was short. Helgi is dead of countless wounds, and laid in his barrow with his weapons beside him. Sigrun of Sevafell keeps the house; she sits by the fire; her eyes are hard. ”

“ The good giant thought now of Gudrid only, and talked to her gently for a long while, comforting her. He promised that he would never forsake her until he had brought her safely home to Ericsfrith. He would take Thorstan Ericsson to his own ship, and all the bodies of the crew who were dead should be put with him there until such time as they could sail. "And as for you, dear child," he said, "remember that you and that true man have had the best that life can give you—for than wedded love there is no more blessed thing. ”

“ He resolved to give a great feast to all his friends and acquaintances, such a feast as should make men say that nobody had ever confronted misfortune more gallantly than Thorbeorn of Bathbrink.
It was a noble feast, lasting three days and nights; the greatest there had been made within the memory of men. Everybody came, for enmities were all forgotten. Orme was there from Erne Pillar, and Halldis was with him. Good Halldis embraced Gudrid, kissed her on both cheeks, and held her closely, very ready to revive memories. ”

“ Gurth the reeve helped them, but he was ailing already with the sickness, and not much use.
Grimhild, a strong-faced, huge woman, managed all the house, but Gudrid helped her now willingly. There were no maids there. In the evenings they sat by the fire and told tales. It was as merry as might be, and with Thorstan Black there was always some fun to be had. He was the lightest-hearted man and the happiest whom Gudrid had seen in Greenland, where mostly, it seemed, men had to fight with life at too long odds to have any heart left over for pastime. ”

“ So all went well except for Einar perhaps, whose prospects certainly were not enhanced by being talked about. The stronghold of a lover is to be so deeply hid that he is never talked of.
It was the fact that Gudrid was happy with her blunt blackbeard of a man. He was easy to live with, always much the same, and did not ask for more than he was able to give. He was very thrifty, and taught her to be so, for she was anxious to please. He was never jealous, though Thorstan had a way of coming to the house. ”

“ The novelist will want to know what Briseïs felt when she was handed from hero to hero, will pore upon the matronly charity of Theano, the agony of the two young men Achilles slew by Skamander, and find the psychology of these pawns in the great game as enthralling as that of the high movers. I confess that to me Gudrid, the many times a wife and the always sweet and reserved, is more absorbing a tale than the discovery of Wineland. I like the two running Scots better than their country, would barter all Greenland for the tale of the winter sickness in Thorstan Black's house. ”

“ Orme had excused himself on the score of Einar's merits—for which he could answer, he said—and well-being. "He has two ships at sea in the Norway trade. His credit stands high on each side the water. There's many a worse man than he well married—and he loves your Gudrid beyond price. There is nothing he will not put down for her."
But that had wounded Thorbeorn in his most sensitive part. He knew that he was ruined and could not bear that other men should know it also. "It is hard that his money should tempt you to insult a poor man," he said. ”

“ Not a half-skald like my brother Thorstan, nor a pranking pie like
Thorwald. You will have a master in Thore, and most women like that.
He might beat you."
"I think he will not," said Gudrid. Freydis looked at her with narrowed eyes.
"And I think that you are right. You know how to make yourself respected, I believe. But many women like to be beaten. I know that I should love the man who could beat me. But he would have to fight with me first. My husband is as timid as a Norway rat. You don't see him here often." Gudrid had never seen him. "He comes when I send for him," said Freydis. ”

“ You will find the only rest there can be in this life." Gudrid asked her more, but she would not tell her. "I know, I see," said Theodhild, "but God will reveal it to you when the time comes."
Gudrid, who had left Ericshaven still a girl in her bloom, had come back to it a woman, made so by pity and terror. Her beauty was now ripe, and her mind in accord with it. They held her at Brattalithe for the fairest and wisest of women. She was rich, too, for she had her father's and Thore's estates, as well as her share of Eric's wealth which had been Thorstan's. ”

“ They found Heriolf a good host, his house well built and well stored. He had a comely wife, too, who took kindly to Gudrid. "That's a paragon of a girl you have there," Heriolf said. "If my son were at home I don't know how it would turn out."
"She's not for every one," said Thorbeorn, on his dignity at once.
"But my son Biorn is some one, let me tell you," said Heriolf. "He is a traveller who has seen more of the world than any man living, I dare say. And here in Greenland, you must know, a woman is a precious piece of goods. ”

“ I believe that everything I give Gudrid and Freydis, Karlsefne and Leif and Eric Red to say or to do can be made out from hints, which I have made it my business to interpret. Character makes plot in life as well as in fiction, and a novelist is not worthy of his hire who can't weave a tale out of one or two people to whom he has been able to give life. All romantic invention proceeds from people or from atmosphere. Therefore, while I have shown, I hope, due respect to the exploration of America, I admit that my tale turns essentially upon the explorers of it. ”