it was that not a few folk made it their business to be nearby. But among these, there was never anyone from Hvalsey Fjord, for the Hvalsey Fjorders were not especially interesting to the folk from Solar Fell, nor interested in them. But now every time anyone went into the booth, Bjorn Bollason asked after some of the Hvalsey Fjord folk, and about every fourth time he brought up the name of Gunnar Asgeirsson: was Gunnar at the Thing; where was his booth; had he brought any of his folk with him; did Kollgrim Gunnarsson come with him or have a booth of his own; were the father and son on good terms, or were they estranged, as some folk said; was it true that the daughter had been betrothed to a family enemy, and at this very Thing, did Gunnars Stead belong to Gunnar or to Kollgrim; what sort of steading was it, as prosperous as it had once been, or fallen off; was it intact, with two large fields, or had it only the one; what would happen concerning these matters when the marriage took place between Helga and Jon Andres? In short, Bjorn Bollason’s curiosity about Gunnar’s affairs could not be satisfied, and news of this got back to Gunnar, who sat outside his booth and smiled to himself, for he thought that surely Bjorn was thinking to make an offer for Johanna on behalf of one of his sons, and though folk said that the sons were all but indistinguishable from each other, Gunnar thought it would be a good household for Johanna, and he recollected that as matters had turned out, he had not done badly for his daughters after all. But although many folk reported to Gunnar that his name was always in the lawspeaker’s mouth, the lawspeaker himself never appeared, and so Gunnar began to get annoyed, and decided to strike his booth and pack up a little early—on the morning of the fourth day rather than toward evening. And so he was packing his furnishings when a boy who must have been one of the sons came up to him and said in a polite but authoritative way, “Gunnar Asgeirsson, Bjorn Bollason the lawspeaker wishes to see you privily in his booth.” Such was not the courteous procedure for betrothal, so Gunnar took his time in finishing his task and arranging his clothing and walking over to the lawspeaker’s booth.
The lawspeaker had grown heavy in the years since the great hunger, for indeed, there was no stint of provisions at Solar Fell. He was also finely dressed, and the weaving of the stuff of his robe attracted Gunnar’s gaze with its softness and the complexity of the pattern. It was not dyed at all, for the lawspeaker was known to affect clothing that was as white as possible. As soon as Gunnar entered the booth, Bjorn bustled about to put him in the high seat and find him refreshment. Then he turned to everyone else in the booth and sent them away, even Signy, his wife, and Bolli, his eldest son. It seemed to Gunnar that he might be a little offended, if the procedure weren’t so unusual. Now Gunnar sat with his bowl of sourmilk, and Bjorn watched him taste it, and nodded, smiling, as if he wished Gunnar to appreciate especially its smoothness and thickness. Gunnar said nothing and looked boldly about. The booth was a rich one, made partly of reindeer skins and partly of foxskins, with decorated wadmal hung about inside. Finally, Bjorn began in this way: “It seems to me that the marriages of one’s children turn out to call for more care and effort than they should. Why is it that they can’t simply be matched up as a father sees that they should be? Instead of this, there is much exertion of will and a great deal of noise about the steading.”
“No father would disagree with what you say.”
“And yet, two of your daughters have made great matches.”
“Folk say so.”
“It seems to me that it must be different for you than it is for me, as you have many daughters and I have many sons. Sons are said to be more rowdy and troublesome, but all of my four sons give me less grief than my one daughter.”
Gunnar smiled. “Folk would say the same of my one son. Folk would say that trouble is in his nature.”
“Indeed, I am not a little sorry