Sworn Brother (27 page)

‘Go back to your father,’ I advised him, ‘and tell him what happened. The wreckage of your shield should prove that you are telling the truth, and surely he’ll accept that anyone courageous enough to tackle Grettir single-handed has proved his worth. Tell him also that Grettir’s quarrel is only with those who have harmed his family. If he has robbed others or caused them injury, the sole motive has been his own survival.’

When Thorodd had limped away, Grettir insisted that I turn back to my house. ‘It’s less than half a day’s walk from here to my mother’s place,’ he said, ‘and that is just where my enemies will be on the lookout for me. It will be easier for one man to approach unobserved than for two of us. And after I have spoken to her and decided where I will go next, I will send you word where to find me.’

‘I think we should have some way of checking that any message that passes between us is genuine,’ I said. ‘Now I have been seen in your company, people may use our friendship to lure you out of hiding and trap you.’

‘You’re always the clever and cautious one, Thorgils,’ said

Grettir with a slight smile. ‘Any time a message passes between us, the bearer can begin by quoting one of Odinn’s sayings. That should keep you happy.’

I walked back home, worrying that Grettir would fall into an ambush as he approached his mother’s house. But it was I who found calamity waiting at my door.

I almost walked right past them without noticing. Only when I was level, within touching distance, did I realise they were there. They were waiting for me and, though they were motionless, they were as dangerous as any killer waiting to pounce with a dagger.

Scorn poles - two of them were planted upright in the ground just beside my front door. I could guess who had erected them there because one was a likeness of myself carved with physical details that only someone intimate could have known. The second wooden pole was less elaborate, but there was no mistaking the broad shoulders of the man it portrayed. To make sure, the carver had scratched in runes the name ‘Grettir’. The two poles were adult height, very obviously male, and both faced in the same direction, towards the door. One scorn pole was placed close behind the other, almost touching. The message was explicit, obvious to every passer-by: Grettir and Thorgils were lovers.

My initial shock of comprehension was quickly replaced by cold fury. I was outraged. I felt cheated and damaged, my closest friendship defiled. I knew, of course, that Gunnhildr must have arranged for the scorn poles to be carved and then planted for all to see. It was a public accusation, and — worse — in the same way that the sentence of full outlawry can never be appealed against, so the public accusation of man-love can never be effectively denied if it is made from within a marriage. In that regard I now shared Grettir’s fate: he had been found guilty of a crime he did not commit and which he had no opportunity to deny; I had been accused unjustly of acts against which there was no way to defend myself.

Disgusted, I pushed open the door of the house and gathered up a few clothes, thrusting them angrily into a travelling satchel.

I vowed that I would never again enter that odious house, or work one more hour on the farm for old Audun’s benefit, or speak to my treacherous wife. Slinging the satchel over my shoulder, I stormed out of the building feeling utterly betrayed.

Of
course
I went to Thrand. Of all the people who had ever guided and advised me, Thrand had always been the most staunch. When I told him about the scorn poles and asked how I could fight back against the slur, he brought me to my senses.

‘The more you stamp on a turd,’ he said bluntly, ‘the further it spreads. Let the matter alone, there’s nothing you can do about it.’

It was good advice, but I was too angry and resentful to accept it outright.

‘What about Grettir?’ I said. ‘Should I tell him? And how will he react?’

‘Grettir’s got far more serious threats to think about,’ said Thrand. ‘Of course, he will get to know about the scorn poles like everyone else. All you can do is make sure that he hears the news before it is common gossip. Then it is for him to decide if he wants to do anything about it. But, as I said, a public denial is useless. Let the matter drop, ignore it, wait for the uproar to die down and for the next new scandal to erupt and smother it. If you tell me where to find him, I’ll go to see Grettir and talk with him.’

‘He’ll still be hiding out at his mother’s house,’ I replied. ‘Should I do anything about Gunnhildr?’

‘Well, for a start you can expect that she will bring divorce proceedings against you. She’s probably lined up some hostile witnesses already, rehearsing them to appear at the next district gathering to support her claim.’

‘I’ll go there myself and deny the accusation,’ I said defiantly, still stung by the injustice of my predicament.

‘I doubt that will do much good,’ said Thrand calmly. ‘For

any chance of success you’ll need to be represented by skilful advocates at the court, and there’s no one you know who can act in that capacity.’

‘Maybe I could ask Snorri Godi,’ I suggested.

‘Snorri Godi is unlikely to act on your behalf. He helped to arrange the match in the first place and he will look foolish trying to act for an aggrieved spouse. The best you can expect from him is that he might help to recover your mundur, the fire ruby. And when it comes to keeping the jewel from falling permanently into Gunnhildr’s hands, I think I can be of use.’

‘How can you help?’ I asked, but Thrand did not answer. He only advised me to get a good night’s sleep so as to have a clear head in the morning. That was impossible. It was long after nightfall before I fell into a restless slumber, plagued by black dreams in which I was pursued by a death hag. When I woke, it was to find Thrand gone.

He came back four days later, and in his absence I alternately seethed with anger at Gunnhildr and concocted wild plots to avenge myself for her perfidy, or I felt sorry for myself and wondered how to escape from this crisis.

Thrand was as calm as always when he returned. ‘Gunnhildr has announced publicly that she is seeking a divorce,’ he confirmed. ‘She and her father are claiming back the farm. It was her dowry, so that is just a formality. But they also want to keep your mundur, the fire ruby, as you are the one at fault.’ My face must have showed my vexation and despair.

‘The divorce is all but guaranteed,’ Thrand went on, ‘but for the moment you need not worry about the fire ruby. It is in safe hands.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘Snorri Godi has it. I went to see Snorri Godi and reminded him about the initial agreement at the time of your marriage: that the mundur was to be valued at thirty marks and could be redeemed in the event of a divorce. He said that his inclination was not to get involved in such a messy business, but because Grettir had spared his son Thorodd’s life he would use his influence to get Audun and Gunnhildr to hand the jewel over to him, and he would hold it in safe keeping until you could provide thirty marks to redeem it.’

‘I’m surprised that Gunnhildr or that miserly father of hers agreed to such a proposal,’ I said. ‘They are so grasping that they wouldn’t accept a verbal assurance. They know that I could never raise thirty marks.’

‘Snorri Godi told them that the sum is guaranteed. He is holding a surety for that amount.’

‘What do you mean? Snorri won’t lie about something like that.’

‘He didn’t,’ said Thrand. ‘I’ve left thirty marks of hack silver with him.’

I was stunned.

But Thrand had not finished. ‘I also went to see Grettir and had a talk with him, told him about the scorn poles and asked him what he wanted to do about it. As I expected, he took the matter in his stride. Commented that far worse things were being said about him and one more false accusation would make no difference. When I suggested that he could solve all his problems by leaving the country and that you would probably go with him, he answered that he had no intention of running away from his enemies, which you knew already. Also to tell you that his younger brother, Illugi, has now grown to manhood, and that he felt he should stay to protect him. Grettir still feels guilty that he deserted his older brother Atli, who was killed during his first outlawry. He asked me to wish you well on your travels.’

‘My travels?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ Thrand replied ‘I told Grettir that you and I were leaving Iceland for a while, long enough for the scandal to die down and for you to have a chance to win the thirty marks to redeem your mundur.’

‘Thrand,’ I said, ‘I’m deeply grateful to you for the money you have left with Snorri Godi, but there’s no reason for you to desert your farm.’

Thrand shrugged. ‘I have been sitting too long in this quiet corner. I feel the wanderlust coming back, and I want to return to the places I knew as a young man, the places where I won my silver. Who knows — you may do the same.’

‘You never told me where or how you got your hoard,’ I said.

‘Until now there was no need. Besides, I had my reasons for remaining silent,’ he answered. ‘But you should know that I fought with the felag, with the Jomsvikings.’

Every boy in Iceland who dreamed of plunder and martial glory had heard about the Jomsvikings, but I had not known whether they were mythical or whether they really existed. If Thrand said they were real, then I was prepared to take his word on it.

‘What did Grettir say when you told him that you and I would be going abroad?’

‘He quoted some lines from the Havamal:

“A better burden may no man bear

For wanderings wide than wisdom

It is better than wealth on unknown ways

And in grief a refuge it gives.”’

Thrand looked at me and with a note of compassion in his voice said, ‘Appropriate, don’t you think?’