"Saga" - Chapter 16, Part 2
Saga, Chapter 16, Part 2
For content, rating, A/Ns and disclaimer, see the chapter’s Part 1.
One afternoon in late summer, Einnis Elmarson stood by one of the newly erected stone fences and surveyed his farm with approval. It was a hot sweltering day, and he was both sweaty and weary from the mind-numbingly hard and incessant work, but his eyes were filled with quiet pride.
In front of him the new farm stood proudly; the finished hall, weaving-house, fire-hall, storage house and beyond the yard, a solid cow shed and stable. Incessant hammering could be heard from inside the hall, where carpenters were finishing the interior wooden walls and benches. Another crew of men was working on the roof of the weaving-house, placing square-cut grass sods carefully on a thick layer of dried birch bark.
Einnis drew a deep breath. The farm was near completion. The construction work would soon be over, and a new phase would begin here on this place, and in his life. He’d seen it through. Once more he dried sweat off his brow, and turned to walk slowly in the direction of the paddock where he kept his horses. No matter how busy his day, he always found time to check on them, hand them some small prune-like apples from yesteryear’s harvest, and pat their warm flanks and soft noses soothingly.
Suddenly he stopped short. There was a long feather lying directly in his path, night-black and glistening. A raven’s wing feather. He sometimes heard ravens in the woods behind Einstad, but they rarely showed themselves near the farm anymore, being wary of all the humans and their hustle and bustle. Einnis stared at the feather for a moment, then carefully picked it up, his face suddenly pensive and his eyes distant. It was soft and yielding under his finger as he gently and repeatedly stroked the glistening dark length, following the finger’s slow movement with his eyes. He sighed.
At that very moment he heard horses approaching, and looked up to see Ketil Efni and a few of his men riding up to the farm at a very fast pace. Einnis instinctively made as if to throw the black feather away, but at the last moment let it slip down the front of his tunic instead. There it came to rest plastered on the slick sweaty skin of his chest, hidden from view.
Ketil greeted him with a bleak smile, and at first seemed to have no errand, but asked to be shown around. His brother was more than willing to comply, and they walked around the buildings for a while, Einnis pointing out and commenting on the construction details and the progress since Ketil last visited.
Ketil was oddly distracted and uneasy, though, and Einnis eventually caught on to his brother’s unusual absentmindedness.
“Is something the matter, brother? You seem out of sorts.”
“Nothing is the matter,” Ketil said gruffly, kicking a pebble out of his path impatiently. “Well, nothing important, I suppose. I visited with Helga Hauksdottir yesterday…. ”
With that, his tale ground to a halt before it had properly started. Einnis shot him a searching glance. “And…?” he prompted.
“We sat talking and drinking for a while,” Ketil muttered. “She was in good spirits, and I enjoyed myself.” He shrugged. “Then I found it to be time to get to the point of my visit, and get her response to the proposal at last, but she said she wanted time yet before she would consider marrying anyone. Time! She’s had months to decide! She’s kept me waiting, a wretched fool dancing to her merry tune, like one of those poor trained bears in Novgorod! So….”
“Yes?” Einnis said quietly when Ketil once more stalled.
“I grabbed her by the shoulders, and gave her my point of view. I shook her, and tried to kiss her. She’d been asking for it, hadn’t she, but now she resisted me!”
Einnis looked at his brother in consternation. “What?”
“Well, what can you expect!” Ketil blurted out, suddenly furious. ”The bitch has been leading me on for months, talking nicely and smiling so sweetly and laughing and jesting like a wanton. Did you see her at Sigrid’s wedding? She looked ready to bed me right there on the hall table, hair down and half undressed! What was I supposed to think?”
Einnis shook his head and groaned, horrified. “Ketil!”
“Well, she tore herself free and looked at me as haughtily as if I were a thrall or a pig’s turd. She ordered me off her property, told me I’d outstayed my welcome and that I needn’t come back ever again unless it was to offer her an apology she could truly believe in. And she said that if it still was not clear to me, her answer to my proposal was ‘no’, and that was her final word.”
Ketil squirmed, glancing furtively at Einnis. “I…. got very angry. I pretty much lost it. I slapped her across the face, so hard that she fell to the floor.”
“Ketil!”
“Well, I was drunk. Ale makes another man, as the saying goes. And she was treating me like a thrall after tempting me for Frey knows how long! I won’t take such insults from anyone, I tell you - least of all a woman!”
Einnis drew a deep breath. ”You haven’t apologized to her?”
”No!” Ketil blurted. He fidgeted and nervously bit his lip. ”Do you think I should?”
Einnis sighed. He looked out over his farm, its newly tarred log walls under the green turf roofs gleaming in the evening sun. His shoulders slumped wearily.
“You know you have to, and to offer her the proper fines under the law, too. You do not want a feud with her brothers or her husband once she marries, do you? You risk causing division and much strife in the valley over this.”
Ketil looked obstinate, his temper flaring again. “She deserved it!”
“No, she did not!”
Einnis drew a calming breath. “Even if she did, there must have been witnesses. They won’t support you. You have no case, Ketil. Here you have been lecturing me endlessly about my duties to the clan, and then you risk our honor and prosperity in this senseless manner? You know you need to apologize, or else leave the farm behind and travel abroad again. Is that what you want?”
Ketil squirmed. “By Hel, let’s go get some ale, Einnis. It feels as if Tor is using his hammer hunting giants inside my skull, and my tongue tastes like goat dung. I can’t think.”
Einnis shook his head and gripped Ketil’s shoulder. “Brother, you have to apologize and offer her the proper fines. Everything we’re trying to build for the clan may be wasted otherwise, everything you’ve worked for! Come to your senses! There will be another woman you can marry, since Helga isn’t willing. Ride back there now and end this.”
He relented a little, seeing Ketil’s pained expression. “If you want to stay away from the valley for a while afterwards, you can ride directly on to Mjod with a message from me. I’m sure you will be well received there, Ketil.”
Ketil looked at him questioningly, the hint of pleading in his bloodshot eyes a marked contrast to his strong and tall warrior’s frame.
“Tell him that the farm has been finalized for his daughter to move into, describe the way it looks now.” Einnis made a sweeping movement indicating the houses, fences, and fields. “Greet Mjod and Arna from me, and agree a date for the wedding on my behalf. Sometime in fall, but not too late. She and I must finish moving in here before it’s time for the fall butchering.”
Ketil was silent for a moment, but looked relieved. “I suppose, if you want me to…. Yes, I guess I could do that,” he eventually muttered, looking fixedly at the ground.
“But whatever you do,” Einnis said with emphasis, staring at his brother insistently. “For the honor of every god and the love of every goddess, tell Helga you’re sorry and bow to her as much as you need to, and put any risk of feuding at rest!”
He pushed a hard finger into Ketil’s chest, looked him firmly in the eye and raised his voice. “And while you’re at Mjod’s, stay off the ale!”
Tbc…………
Notes and explanations;
Padraig - the Irish name for St. Patrick, 387 - 493. The name is fitting in more ways than one: When he was about 14 years old Patrick was captured from Britain by Irish raiders and taken as a slave to Ireland, where he lived for six years before escaping and returning to his family. After entering the Church, he returned to Ireland as an ordained bishop in the north and west of the island. By the eighth century he had come to be revered as the patron saint of Ireland.
Sverri Svarte - The name means Sverri the Black (likely indicating the man’s hair). That Torgeirr names the boy after his mother’s father will mean that either Torgeirr's own father is still alive (and so not ready to “live again” through his grandson) or that Torgeirr is saving his father’s name for his first son born in legal marriage.
Ale makes another man - Another old saying from Grettir’s Saga
Gavlpryd - “Gable ornament”. This is the kind of pun the Norse enjoyed - especially since Gunnar is deemed to be ugly and hence no “ornament“, so the name also becomes a satire on his looks, not just the one drunken mishap he had and the gable carvings he had made.
Lawspeaker - A society where long written texts were still not available was dependant on men who knew the full law texts by heart and could recite them when required.
The Liberation of thralls - everything that Torgeirr explains here is according to the old Norse laws as eventually put down on parchment. Even after the one year’s service, and after paying his release fee and holding a prescribed “Liberation Ale Feast”, a previous thrall was bound to his master in many ways and through a number of obligations - for instance he could not travel out of the county without the master’s acceptance, or give witness against the interests of his previous master. If the conditions were broken he would revert to thralldom. It took 4 full generations(!) before the thrall’s family’s obligations to the master’s clan had been fulfilled and the fourth generation ex-thralls were considered “free-born men and women”. Liberated thralls therefore in reality became serfs. (The laws were written by the ruling, thrall-owning classes, and they evidently envisaged long-term needs for cheap labor…)
“A better burden may no man bear”, etc. - Another word of wisdom from Havamal (this is one of the poem’s better-known stanzas, in fact). Both Havamal and other Norse wisdom poems keep going on and on about the dangers and indignities of drinking too much, and the sagas are filled with men, including kings and lords, who are dead-drunk and therefore can’t defend themselves when someone attacks. Alcoholism clearly was a considerable Viking vice.
Padraig/Sverri’s two naming ceremonies - The baptism is based on a few elements of the old Catholic baptism ceremony, while Torgeirr’s name-giving is in abbreviated accordance with the Norse traditions of the times. He ensures that there are witnesses to his acceptance of the boy as his son (if this ceremony had not taken place, he would not legally be the child’s father and the boy would belong to whomever owned the boy’s mother). However, little Sverri is still not a full member of Torgeirr’s clan by any means - for instance he will not have equal rights of inheritance with any children born to Torgeirr in legal marriage.
Payment of fines - The Norse laws outlined fines to be paid either to the injured party or his/her clan for all possible crimes, up to and including premeditated murder. That was the only known punishment under the laws. It was up to the injured party whether he would accept payment of fines as recompense, however. If he didn’t, the matter was solved with swords.
The Viking homes and their bench spaces - (a relatively long explanation for those who might be interested)
The main Viking house/hall was rectangular with one main room inside. The houses would vary significantly in different sizes and levels of adornment depending on the wealth of the owner. Building material varied too. On Iceland, where wood has to be imported, the houses were built mostly of peat/sod, though wood paneling would be used for the interiors. Elsewhere in Scandinavia, logs or wattle was the outside building material.
The inside of these various Viking halls was surprisingly similar all over the “Viking world:” A main rectangular room with an open hearth in the middle, which was used for heat and for cooking on, even in big halls and manors, where there might also be an additional separate “fire-hall” (cooking house). The hall roof was supported by rows of wooden upright beams, and between those beams and the walls there were benches, which were used for sleeping on during the night, and for sitting on during meals and other daytime activities. At the far end of the hall would be a "high seat" and elevated bench space between decorated and /or finely carved upright poles, where the master and his family and guests would sit. Tables would be put up when needed and removed between meals, though the ordinary folks would take their food to the bench and eat it there, and wouldn't make use of a table.
Only the very noble and wealthy and their equally rich guests had their own beds in separate rooms, or closed-in bench spaces where they could retire and not be seen by all and sundry. Everyone else had to bed down in these communal sleeping quarters on the hall benches. It’s difficult to imagine now, but it’s a fair bet that modesty wasn’t high on the agenda.
People probably had rough sack “mattresses” filled with wool, straw or even dried sea-weed that they slept on, - if they didn’t just sleep right on the wooden bench, - and some sort of blanket as cover. The very rich could afford, and did actually have, mattresses, pillows and duvets made of down-filled linen.
Hall interiors:
Here are two pictures which show the interior of the reconstructed Stong Viking time farm on Iceland. You can see the hearth, and the benches. http://www.hurstwic.org/history/articles/daily_living/pix/Stong_hall_interior.jpg
http://www.hurstwic.org/history/articles/daily_living/pix/stong_int_skali.jpg
And here is a drawing of the interior of the great hall at Lejre, Denmark, based on archeological finds. The wooden beams, the benches and the hearth can all be seen. (Very few halls would have this huge size, though! I imagine that the farms in “Saga” are somewhere in the middle range between the sizes of the Stong and Lejre halls.) http://www.viking.ucla.edu/hrolf/media/Hallins.gif
Hall exteriors:
This is an example of the exterior of a Viking time hall, reconstructed at Trelleborg, Denmark:
https://netfiles.uiuc.edu/rwb/www/teaching/engl209/pics/trelleborg-hall.jpg
Houses further north in Scandinavia may well have been log cabin-built, at least the storage houses if not the large halls.
And just for the fun of it here is the exterior of the reconstructed Viking hall located at the furthest reaches of archeologically proved Viking settlements (this one ca. AD 1,000) - at L’Anse aux Meadows, Newfoundland: http://rst.gsfc.nasa.gov/Sect6/l-27anse-aux-meadows.jpg
As can be seen, this was made in the Icelandic style.