The Greenlanders - Jane Smiley [61]
One day just before the beginning of the spring work, Gunnar took one of the horses and went to Gardar, where he spent the night. The next day, he spoke to his usual friends, but was also seen in discussion with the farmer Helgi. Then he came home. The result was that after the spring work was completed, and the sheep were in their summer pasture and the fjords were free of ice, four beams were brought to Gunnars Stead in the large boat belonging to Osmund Thordarson, and these were from the farmhouse at Mel, for Helgi had decided to tear down the ill-omened house, and Gunnar had bought the beams for one cow apiece. These cows were taken over to Gardar in the same boat, and kept in the Gardar herd along with Helgi’s other cows. Now many folk in Vatna Hverfi said that Gunnar had made a good bargain, and had not had to travel far to make it, but others said that the calculated insult to Erlend Ketilsson weighed heavily against Gunnar’s thrift. Olaf and Gunnar now fixed up the old outbuilding for Hrafn and Katla, and Gunnar let it be known that he had three beams of wood to trade. The peculiar happenings at Mel were never explained, though folk spoke of them for a good while.
Skuli Gudmundsson was little impressed by Kollbein Sigurdsson, who complained unceasingly of the discomforts of Thjodhilds Stead, which were certainly greater than those of the court or either of Kollbein’s two estates in Norway, and also greater than all but the poorest farms of the Greenlanders. Kollbein was always scheming for invitations to Gardar or Brattahlid and always asking about the prosperous farmers of other districts—how big were their houses, how much hay did they have for the winter, how many sheep and cows and horses and servants. He spoke always of an accounting—the king would have to know what these Greenlanders had, and how much they owed to him, through his trusted tax collector, but beyond sitting with his clerk, an Englishman named Martin of Chester, from time to time, he made no effort to do this accounting, but frittered away what his neighbors gave him for his support. After a while, these sessions with Martin became fewer, and the king with his court seemed farther and farther away.
Of Kollbein’s retainers, all were sailors and city men by birth except Skuli and two others, brothers who were a farmer’s sons named Egil and Erik from the Vestfold. These three often commented on what fine farms Thjodhilds Stead and Foss had once been, with large, well-manured fields, sturdy buildings, and a good water supply, but it was beyond their strength to farm it by themselves, as heedless as Kollbein was, and the result was that Egil and Erik, like Skuli, preferred to be away from Thjodhilds Stead as much as they could.
In this spring, Skuli Gudmundsson began to meet Margret Asgeirsdottir in the hills above Vatna Hverfi where she was accustomed to roam, setting snares and gathering herbs. Always he spoke about her figure and her countenance in a way that she had never heard before, and after a little, it got to be something that she was consumingly curious to hear. Or he told her tales of life with Kollbein that made her laugh, or tales of Norway and the court of Hakon and Margarethe that dazzled her, or simple bits about himself and his thoughts that intrigued her. Always he made her gifts. His hands were never idle.
These meetings, which were neither frequent nor infrequent, had no effect on Skuli’s visits to the Gunnars Stead folk, who welcomed him as readily as ever, and who were especially glad of his assistance in the building of the