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By Root 1859 0

for it was the practice of these wild peasant folk to hunt down men from foreign countries and club them to death. Pall Hallvardsson replied that there had recently been more killings in Greenland, as well, a sure sign of the sinfulness of man and the evil of the times, but Einar declared that such killings as these done in England were not like killings among men who had enmity for one another because of feuding; they were more like a plague or a curse of God, for the killers came in a group and were fired with a frenzy such as a Berserk might be, and their victim’s every action, of meekness or challenge, inflamed them further, and the only thing that quelled them was fear for their lives, when they saw that armored knights on horseback were about to go among them with swords and spears. At this, they would begin to run away, and trample each other and in turn get trampled by the plunging horses, and all this time the knights would be laughing and cheering, for they, too, were inflamed with hatred as with a madness. Now Pall Hallvardsson and Einar fell silent, contemplating the English, who in all stories appear to glory in slaughter, as it is said by the poet, Thorkel Skallason:

It is true that killing in England

Will be a long time ending.

And so Einar Bjarnarfostri stayed for some days at Hvalsey Fjord as a guest of Sira Pall Hallvardsson, and each day he met Gunnhild Gunnarsdottir, and he greatly admired her looks and demeanor, and the result was that on the last day of his visit, he approached Gunnar Asgeirsson and asked to be betrothed to the child, though she was but twelve winters old.

“Everyone can see,” Einar declared, “that my foster father Bjorn is a wealthy man, and possessed of great luck. I have land of my own in Iceland, close by Bjorn’s farm in Reykholar, and I have servingmen to work it, and servingwomen to ease the labor of my wife. In addition to this, my wife would be a great friend and cherished relation of Solveig Ogmundsdottir, who would surely act as a mother to the girl.” And he smiled, for it was clear to him that such an offer as his for any Greenland girl, even a girl as handsome as Gunnhild, would not come again.

All of this time, Gunnar was sitting apart on a rock, repairing a fishing net, and he continued to work at the project until it was finished, then he put it aside. Now he looked up at Einar and said, “Because we are Greenlanders does not mean that we don’t know the forms of such things. No man comes without friends to the household of the woman he desires, unless he thinks that the household is of little importance.” He got up and carried his net across the yard into the boathouse, and Einar saw that he was much offended. The next day, Einar returned to Gardar, and there was no more talk of this matter.

One day later in the spring, when the hillsides had begun to green up and only small icebergs floated in the fjord, Birgitta was pacing back and forth in front of the farmstead, spinning. Her time was near, and she was very great with child; it was intolerable for her to be within the steading. And as she was walking back and forth, she looked toward the water, where the five children were gathering seaweed, even Maria, the youngest, who was but two winters old. As she looked at them, and thought of the child within her, they seemed to vanish, so that their cries to one another were silenced and the strand was empty and the sea behind it cold and gray. Now Birgitta dropped her spindle and put her face in her hands, and when she looked up again, the water of the fjord was blue and the children had reappeared, as they were before, running about and dropping bits of seaweed into the yellow basket. Sometime later, Gunnar and Olaf came down from the sheepfold, and Birgitta took Gunnar’s elbow and held it until Olaf washed himself and went inside, then she said to Gunnar, “This man Einar is something above thirty winters old, and has had one wife already, but he is much accomplished and allied to a great man. Perhaps Bjorn will not go from Greenland at all. Perhaps these farms here