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- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
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“How much better ’twould have been,” said he, “if Thorward had married her maid—the sweet little fair-haired blue-eyed Bertha.”
“Why, Biarne, methinks that thou art somewhat like to try that plan,” said his friend, looking at him in surprise, for he had spoken with much enthusiasm.
“Not I, man,” returned Biarne, with a smile and a shake of the head. “It is long since my heart was buried in Iceland. I am doomed to be an old bachelor now.”
They both listened at this point, for the domestic brawl in the small hut seemed to be waxing furious. Thorward’s voice was not heard so often, but when it did sound there was an unusually stern tone in it, and Freydissa’s became so loud that her words were audible.
“It has been killed, I tell you, Bertha, by sheer carelessness. If you had fed it properly it would have been as well as the others. Don’t say you did your best for it. You didn’t. You know you didn’t. You’re a smooth-faced vixen. You are. Don’t speak. Don’t speak back, I say. Hold your tongue. You killed that kitten by carelessness.”
“If you don’t hold your tongue, wife,” said Thorward, in a loud stern voice, “I’ll kill the cat too.”
There was a pause here, as if the threat had taken away Freydissa’s breath.
“Oho! that’s the poor little kitten,” whispered Karlsefin to Biarne, referring to one of a litter that had been born at sea, “that was nigh eaten by one of the dogs. Bertha had no hand in its death. I wonder it lived so long.”
“Kill the cat?” shrieked Freydissa, stamping her foot.
This was instantly followed by an unearthly caterwaul and the sudden appearance of a dark object in the air, which, issuing from the door of the hut, flew upwards like a sky-rocket, described a wide curve, and fell heavily about fifty yards out into the lake. Next moment Freydissa sprang from the hut and stood with clasped hands on the shore in speechless horror. Thorward immediately after came forth with a dark frown on his face, and walked away into the forest. Freydissa stood like a statue for some minutes, and then, seeing that the cat lay quite motionless, she turned, and, with a face that was deadly pale, re-entered the hut.
“It was cruel,” observed Karlsefin sadly.
“But salutary, perhaps,” said Biarne.
“It may be so,” rejoined the other; “but even if Thorward’s end be a good one, a right end does not justify a wrong action.—Ah! here comes sunshine. How goes it, Gudrid?”
Gudrid, who came forward at the moment, and knew nothing of what had occurred, said that she wanted Karlsefin’s help, if he could spare time, in order to arrange some of the fixtures in their new home.
Assuring her that she herself was the most valuable “fixture” in the house, Karlsefin left his work and the two walked off together, while Biarne went down to the ship.
Meanwhile Thorward returned to his hut, where he found Freydissa alone, sitting on a box with her face buried in her hands. She did not move, so he sat down beside her with a subdued look.
“Freydissa,” he said, “I’m sorry I did that. ’Twas cruel, ’twas hard; but it is done now, and can’t be undone. Forgive me, lass, if you can.”
She raised her head suddenly, and gazed at him with a flushed countenance.
“Thorward,” she said with energy, “if you had come with any other tone or word I would have hated you with all the power of my heart—”
“And that’s a strong power, Freydissa.”
“It is. But now—”
She threw her arms round her husband’s neck and kissed him. Thorward returned the kiss with the vigour of a man who is wont to give back more than he gets.
“Thanks, my girl,” said he, rising, “thanks. That puts my heart at ease. As for the poor cat, she’s beyond the influence of anger or repentance now; but trust me, Freydissa, I shall fetch you the handsomest cat that can be had for love or money in all Greenland, or Iceland; ay, even if I should have to make a special voyage to get hold of it.”
Thus did Thorward and Freydissa fall out, and thus were they reconciled, on the first day in their new home in Vinland.
Talking this matter over with Thorward next day, Karlsefin took occasion to give his friend some sage advice.
“Depend upon it, Thorward,” said he, “no good ever comes of quarrelling or violence, but, on the contrary, much evil. ’Tis well that you confessed your fault to her, else had she ever after held you in light esteem; because, although she deserved reproof, the cat did not deserve to be killed.”
“Beshrew me!”
“Nay,” interrupted Karlsefin, with a laugh, “that is the last thing you ought to say, seeing that you have had so much beshrewing already.”
“Well, well,” said Thorward, “thou art wonderfully smart at giving good advice.”
“Would that I could say thou wert equally smart at taking it! However, I have hope of thee, Thorward. Come, let us go see what the nets have produced. I observe Hake and Heika rowing to land.”
It was found that the fishermen had loaded their boat with magnificent trout of all sizes—some above five or six pounds’ weight—besides a large quantity of excellent fish of other kinds, but not a single salmon had been taken. Nevertheless they had good reason to be content with their success, for the supply was sufficient to provide a hearty supper for the whole party, so that the first night in the new home,—like the first night in the new land,—was a merry one.
The little hamlet on the Vinland lake, which had been so long silent and deserted, resounded from that time forth with the voices and activities of energetic labourers, for these adventurous Norsemen had much to do before their new home could be made comfortable.
The forest and undergrowth around had to be cleared; the huts, of which there were six, had to be cleaned out, fitted up with new parchment in the windows—for there was no glass in those days—and new thatch on the roofs, besides being generally repaired; additional huts had to be built for the people, pens for the sheep, and stabling for the cattle, all of which implied felling and squaring timber, while the smaller articles of household furniture and fittings kept the people generally in full occupation. Of course a party had to be told off as hunters for the community, while another party were set to attend to the nets in the lake, and a third, under the special charge of Karlsefin, went out at intervals to scour the woods, with the double purpose of procuring food and investigating the character and resources of the new land.
In regard to this last these settlers had every reason to be satisfied. The country appeared to be boundless in extent, and was pleasantly diversified in form; the waters teemed with fish, the land was rich with verdure, and the forests swarmed with game, large and small.
One day Karlsefin and Biarne, attended by Hake and several men, went out for a ramble of exploration in the direction of the small river, or branch of the large river, mentioned in a previous chapter. Some of the party were armed with bows and arrows, others had spears, the leader and his friend carried short spears or javelins. All wore their swords and iron head-pieces, and carried shields. Indeed, no party was ever allowed to go beyond the neighbourhood of the settlement without being fully armed, for although no natives had yet been seen, it was quite possible, nay, highly probable, that when they did appear, their arrival would be sudden and unexpected.
As they advanced, they heard a rustle of leaves behind a knoll, and next instant a large deer bounded across their path. Karlsefin hurled his spear with sudden violence, and grazed its back. Biarne flung his weapon and missed it. There was an exclamation of disappointment among the men, which, however, was turned into a cheer of satisfaction when Hake let fly an arrow and shot it through the heart. So forcibly was the shaft sent that it passed quite through the animal, and stood, bloodstained and quivering, in the stem of a tree beyond, while the deer leaped its own height into the air, and fell stone-dead upon the sward.
“A brave shot—excellently done!” exclaimed Karlsefin, turning to the young Scot with a look of admiration; “and not the first or second time I have seen thee do something of the same sort, from which I conclude that it is not chance, but that your hand is always quick, and your eye generally true. Is it not so?”
“I never miss my mark,” said Hake.
“How now? you never miss your mark? It seems to me, young man, that though your air is modest, your heart and words are boastful.”
“I never boast,” replied Hake gravely.
“Say you so?” cried Karlsefin energetically, glancing round among the trees. “Come, clear yourself in this matter. See you yonder little bird on the topmost branch of that birch-tree that overhangs the stream? It is a plain object, well defined against the sky. Touch it if you can.”
“That little bird,” said Hake, without moving, “is not my mark. I never make a mark of the moon, nor yet of an object utterly beyond the compass of my shafts.”
“Well, it is considerably out of range,” returned Karlsefin, laughing; “but come, I will test you. See you the round knot on the stem of yonder pine? It is small truly, so small that I can barely see it, nevertheless it is not more than half a bow-shot off. Do you object to make that your mark?”
The words had scarcely left his lips when an arrow stood quivering in the knot referred to.
With an exclamation and look of surprise Karlsefin said it must have been a chance, and Biarne seemed inclined to hold the same opinion; but while they were yet speaking, Hake planted another arrow close by the side of the first.
“Once more, Hake,” said Krake, who stood close behind the archer; “there’s a saying in Ireland that there’s good fortune in odd numbers: try it again.”
The Scot readily complied, and sent a third shaft into the knot, with its head touching the heads of the other two arrows.
“Enough, enough, your arms are as good as your legs,” said Karlsefin. “Ye are a valuable thrall, Hake, and Leif Ericsson has reason to be grateful to King Olaf of Norway for his gift.—Here, two of you, sling that deer on a pole and bear it to Gudrid. Tell her how deftly it was brought down, and relate what you have seen just now. And hark ’ee,” he added, with a peculiar smile, “there is no occasion to say anything about what occurred before the successful shot. It always adds to the value of a good story that it be briefly as well as pithily told, and disencumbered from unnecessary details. A wise tongue is that which knows when to wag and when to lie still.—Come, Biarne, we will proceed in our examination of this stream.”
Leaving behind them the two men who were to return to the huts with the deer, they proceeded down the banks of Little River, until they came to the pool where Hake and his brother had seen the salmon leap. On the way down, however, the leader had been convinced of the fact that many salmon were there, having seen several rise, and observed others passing over some of the pebbly shallows.
“It was here, was it not,” asked Biarne, “that you and your brother saw the salmon leaping on the occasion of your first visit?”
“It was,” replied Hake.
“At what part of the pool?”
“Just below the tail of the island, where the water is deep, and rolls with numberless oily ripples.”
“Ha! a likely spot,”
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