and Egil also intended to go to this feast, although Helga was very far gone with her first child. One day while Helga was standing about the fire on which the servingmen had seared the sheeps’ heads for svid, and she was stirring up the bits of wood, so that the ashes could burn all the way down for soapmaking, it came to her that she must go around the hill to Gunnars Stead, although it also seemed to her that this would be a great labor for her, as her ankles and legs were much swollen with the humors of the coming child. Still, she could not put this thought of seeing Kollgrim off from her mind, and so she called a servingman to her, and sent him to find Jon Andres, who was about the farm buildings somewhere. But the servingman returned to say that Jon Andres had gone off after some horses that were hobbled in the hills above Undir Hofdi church, and could not be found, and then Helga was tempted to send the servingman to Kollgrim, and she began to give him the message, that the knowledge had come to her that he must not go to the Gardar feast. She saw at once that the message did not fit the man, and when he repeated it back to her, she saw that it was unconvincing in his mouth, and would have no effect on Kollgrim—indeed, he would not even remember it as soon as the man was departed, and so she took a few steps away from the fire, thinking that she might go off to Gunnars Stead herself after all, but these few steps gave her such burning pains in the tops of her legs, that she sat down upon the ground, and sent the servingman off after all. And this seemed to be the case to Helga, that her own child would bring about the death of her brother. And this was something else that she thought, that folk had been expecting Kollgrim’s death through misadventure for the whole of his life, and he was still walking about. So it happened that the message was given, but not heard, and all of the Ketils Stead folk and the Gunnars Stead folk went together in the large Gunnars Stead boat to Gardar, and it was so late in the season that two servingmen had to push off the ice floes with ax handles.
Sira Pall Hallvardsson was much bent with the joint ill and went about on two sticks. His knees and hips were much misshapen, and he was unable to kneel at prayer, but indeed, he said to Gunnar, if the Lord has no eyes in his head to see the burdens of his folk, then no one has such eyes. Whatever men see, the Lord sees with infinitely greater clarity. Sira Jon, he said, was indeed still alive, and he asked Gunnar please to come into the man’s chamber and speak to him, for it was the case that Jon spoke of Gunnar from time to time. “My friend,” said Sira Pall, “it may not soothe his spirits to see you, but it will help his eternal soul.” And Gunnar followed Sira Pall Hallvardsson to the other priest’s chamber with some trepidation.
Sira Jon was as small as a handful of twigs lashed together, and he lay covered with a piece of wadmal on a pallet of woven rushes. The room was close and damp, small enough so that the breathings of the man warmed it. Gunnar stood hunched beneath the low ceiling. Sira Jon’s hands lay upon the coverlet. The fingers were so afflicted with the joint ill that they were turned back upon themselves, and the flesh of the man’s arms had wasted away to bone. Sira Pall Hallvardsson said, “My brother, here is a soul who seeks comfort from you.”
“He is a Greenlander, I see by his brawn.” He spoke with bitterness.
Gunnar looked at Sira Pall Hallvardsson, and then at Sira Jon, and said, “All men seek the Lord’s forgiveness for their sins. I, as well.”
“It may be that the Lord forgives them, it may be that He does not. Such things are not for a priest to know, that is the substance of the tale I have to tell. Seek nothing from me, Gunnar Asgeirsson.”
“Indeed, I know not what I seek, except a kindness between men.”
“The Lord cares nothing for the kindness of men.”
“But men care for it.”
“I care not for it. You and your sister were as ripe figs, swollen with pride in your beauty and the sweetness of your wayward natures.