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By Root 2193 0

of wool for her, for he, like Gunnar, had this knack, but they hardly ever exchanged words, and never spoke of Gunnar. It seemed to Margret Asgeirsdottir from time to time that it was Gunnar himself sitting beside her, but most times it did not seem like this. One day it happened that she was sitting at her weaving when Kollgrim appeared with a dozen hares, and then he sat down near Margret and looked at her work without speaking. Sigrid was away from the steading. Margret threw her shuttle quickly and rhythmically, hardly pausing to count her threads. She was weaving wadmal for one of Sigrid’s shifts, and it was the purplish color that folk from Gunnars Stead were known by. A little time passed, then Margret said, “It seems to me, my Kollgrim, that we are dead sticks among this chattering flock at Solar Fell.”

“These Icelanders make a great deal of noise.”

Now they sat silently again, listening to the click of the shuttle. Then Margret said, “But those who chatter are always apprehensive of those who say nothing.”

“They may be. I have thought little of this.”

“Asgeir Gunnarsson used to say of Hauk, his brother, that he could make killing the fiercest bear sound like a day at the butter churn.”

“Some don’t have the trick of storytelling.”

Now Margret turned from the loom and looked Kollgrim straight in the eye, and she saw that he saw her and was listening to her, and she said in a low voice, “But some do.” And they were silent again for a space. Then she said, “It is not such a good usage to seek the waste places all the time.”

“There must be meat on the table.”

“And herbs and greens. But there must be folk in the steading as well. My father’s brother took no wife, and no wife brought him sorrow and he brought sorrow to no wife.”

“It is hard for a man with fixed habits to hear such things. I am accustomed to my sister Helga, and now she has been stolen from me, and all that folk do about it is to shrug their shoulders and say that that is the purpose of sisters, to go elsewhere.”

“She has not gone far.”

“Far enough. She thinks little of me anymore. Her heart is full of him.”

“You speak like a child, my Kollgrim.” But she said this in such a kindly, low voice that he did not take offense, and only sat quietly as she turned back to the shuttle. Just after this, Sigrid came into the steading, and her eyes fell upon the two sitting together, and she was much pleased. Toward Kollgrim, she was never sharp, for she was a little afraid of him. Now she came up to him and said, “My Kollgrim, you look in need of refreshment,” and he put his hand lightly on her sleeve, for truly she was a pretty bird, and it raised his spirits somewhat to gaze upon her. She turned away, and bustled about the steading, and soon there was food before him, and she gazed upon him while he ate it.

One day when Helga was at Gunnars Stead with Elisabet Thorolfsdottir and the child Egil, Kollgrim came into the steading, although he was not expected for two or three more days. He laid down his weapons and threw off his furs and sat without speaking at the table. Elisabet Thorolfsdottir was also sitting at the table, holding the child far too loosely in her arms, it seemed to Helga. Egil was not crying. He had his mother’s listless way about him. “Welcome back, my Kollgrim,” said Helga. “You have cut short your trip.” She set a bowl in front of him, full of the sourmilk she had been dishing up for herself.

“It seemed to me that I wanted to see this boy here.” He reached over and took Egil into his own hands and gazed upon him.

“He is a handsome child,” offered Helga. “Not so many infants his age have such hair on their heads.”

Kollgrim said nothing for a while, only looked at the child, but then he said, “It seems to me that he has the look of death on him, like an early lamb.” He took the boy’s fingers and bent them over his forefinger with his thumb. They were long, thin, and bluish. “All the parts are here, but little is holding them together.”

The boy had looked this way to Helga, too, but she said, “Indeed, you are seeking after evil, and