Therefore on account of all that he stood for--home, freedom, loving-kindness, hopefulness--she was enthralled by Biorn's talk, and could not hear enough of the new countries which he had seen. Einar's account of what he had done and where been was quite true. A fair wind took him out from Reekness, and he sailed before it until he had lost the land for two days. Two more days it held, then veered to the northward and blew down upon them the dense Greenland fog. He was now helpless, and for a week or more had no knowledge of his course; but he observed that a strong current was bearing him, as he thought, westward. That might be all to the good, he judged, forgetting how far south he had run before the thick weather caught him; anyhow, there was nothing to be done except to keep a sharp look-out for land a-starboard. He pa.s.sed several icebergs and had a touch-and-go business with some of them, he said.

At last the fog lifted a little, and a light and fitful wind began to blow--from what quarter they had no means of knowing, but it was a chill wind. Biorn guessed it was northerly. He saw the stars before he saw the sun, and got his bearings. Next day it was fair. The sun rose out of the sea. The ship was heading nor'-nor'-west. He hoisted all sail, and made brave work of it. In the course of that day they saw land ahead, a long low line of dark, like a bank of rain-cloud.

Biorn ran on, heading straight for it, but he had his doubts from the first, and when they could make out the country better he said to his mate, "That's never Greenland."

Sounding carefully, they came within two miles of the land, and could hear the thunder of the surf, and see it too. The sea was like a hilly country with troughs between the rollers like broad ghylls, Biorn said.

He would be a bold man who tried to land there from a boat.

The country looked to be low-lying, with a sandy sh.o.r.e blown into small pointed hills. Behind those, so far as the eye could reach, there was a dense woodland--most of it black, or looking so, but with patches and belts of red and rose-colour; like flames, said Biorn. No mountains, no snow at all, though by now it was winter in Iceland. Biorn said, "I knew very little about it, to be sure, but knew it was not Greenland the White."

Eric asked him why he had not landed. "How should I land in a surf like that? And what was I to do in the country with my Norway merchandise still aboard, and my father G.o.d knew where? I knew he was not there--and that was enough for me."

"But, Biorn," said Gudrid, flushed and eager, "that was a new country you had found. How could you pa.s.s it by?"

"All very well," said Biorn, "but I'll trouble you to remember that Greenland was a new country to me--and my father in it moreover. And one new country at a time is enough, I suppose."

He went on to say that he coasted those flat wooded sh.o.r.es for the better part of two days and nights, keeping the land on his port bow, but when, as it seemed to him, the coast-line turned westward as if to make a great bay, thinking he would cut across it, he held on his course. It was another two-three days before they made land again, and then it was the same thing as before--woods, swamps, sand, driving rain, or good sunshine; and still no snow. Now he had trouble with his crew, who were for running into the land. They wanted wood and water, they said; but Biorn wouldn't have it. "I wanted my father," he said, "and besides there was abundance of water."

"What you wanted your father for beats me," said Eric, and Gudrid's bright eyes sparkled their approval of his judgment.

"A man may want to see his father more than a foreign country, I suppose," said Biorn. "You forget that I have seen a deal of foreign countries--Russia, Sweden, Dantzick and what-not."

Well, then they sailed for three days and nights before a spanking breeze from the southwest, and ran into the true winter cold, and presently saw land for the third time--snow mountains wreathed with cloud, snow upon the sea-beach itself. Biorn said it was an unchancy, inhospitable kind of country where his father would never choose to live. It was deep water so that they could come close in. There were no signs of habitancy; but there were white bears to be seen, in plenty. That was an island, he said. They held on their course, which was N.E. by E., the breeze stiffened into a gale; and then it came on to blow hard. They had more than enough of it under shortened sail, and shipping green seas every fourth wave. Then, for the fourth time, they sighted land, and a great ness which ran far out into the sea.

"Greenland!" said Biorn; and Greenland it was. On the lee side of that ness was the very town about his father's house; and the very first man he saw was his father, with lobster-pots all round him.

That, he said, was how it had been, and anybody was welcome to the news. As for himself, he was a trader, and had no mind for fancy voyages. Eric said that he might take the adventure up himself, but at any rate his son Leif would take it up. Thorwald said that he intended to go if Leif would take him. "I want to see that country where there is no winter. That's the place for me. Will you come too, Thorstan?"

But Thorstan was looking at Gudrid and did not hear him.

XI

Biorn stayed on some time longer with Eric Red, and had some talk with Gudrid. He had had his eye on her from the beginning, with curious, considering looks. After several attempts, swallowed down by himself with abrupt decision, he did manage to speak out. "It was of you that Thorberg prophesied at the Ness, I expect," he said.

"Yes, it was," said rueful Gudrid.

He tossed his foot from the knee, and looked at it swinging. "Such things as that make a man thoughtful."

Gudrid bent over her needlework. "You may be sure that she made me thoughtful."

"Well," said Biorn, "it is a glory to a woman to hear the like of that.

But it makes a man think twice. Now, I daresay my father spoke to you about me, with a nod and wink, as we say? He is fond of me, is my father."

"And you, certainly, of him," Gudrid said. "You seem to be a loving couple."

"He spoke to me about you," Biorn went on, pursuing his own thoughts.

"He was much taken with you, and seemed to think you were singled out for great honour. And clearly you are. But I value my life--and so I told my father. And then he spoke scornfully to me, and hurt my feelings." Gudrid found something to smile at in this.

But while she scared Biorn she attracted the brothers at Brattalithe, and others besides them. Thorstan Ericsson was exceedingly shy, and would never go into the bower to talk to the girls, nor into kitchen or wash-house when they were working there if he could help it. So he saw very little of Gudrid, and had nothing to say to her when he did see her. Yet he loved her deeply within himself, in an honourable way of worship, with no jealousy about it. Thorwald, his younger brother, was always in and out of the women's quarters, teasing the girls, getting in their way, and making them laugh. He was often outrageous, but they all liked him, and Thorstan trusted in his loyalty. He told Gudrid that Thorstan thought a great deal about her; but she knew that already. She used to sing in the evenings when the hall was full, and everybody praised her except Thorstan; yet she knew that he was more affected than any one. She felt his heavy eyes on her, and used to think of songs which would please him.

But Thorstan was dumb, and others were not. One day in the spring Gudrid was sent for. She was in the wash-house, up to the elbows in lather and foam, in no state for company. All the girls stopped work, and one said, "A wooer for Gudrid," and another, "Thorstan has found his voice." But they all helped her to make herself tidy, and wished her joy. She went out with all her colours flying. Her father was by the fire in the hall; Eric Red with him; and another man was standing there, tall and heavily made, in a red cloak. She had not seen him before. He was a dark-hued man, with bent brows, rather s.h.a.ggy, and had a black beard. He kept his head bent, and his hands behind his back, but looked at her as she came in. So did Eric, in a kindly way.

Thorbeorn only looked at the fire.

She went up to her father and put her hand on his shoulder. There was a short silence--but not enough time for her to collect her thoughts.

Indeed, she had no thoughts.

"Gudrid," said Thorbeorn, "we think it is time for you to be settled, and have here an honourable man who has asked for you. He is our friend, Th.o.r.e Easterling. He is well-descended and of good estimation with our host. His family is of Ramfirth in Iceland, and he has a fine estate here in Ericshaven. He has the new faith which we believe to be the true faith. Now we think you ought to feel yourself happy, being sure that you have every reason to be so. It will be a good marriage for you."

Gudrid said nothing, and kept her eyes fixed on the ground. Presently she removed her hand from her father's shoulder, let it fall to her side, and stood alone. It was a painful pause, felt to be so by all four, and broken presently by Th.o.r.e himself. "Lady," he said, "I hope to have your good will in this. I have few pretentions to a lady's liking, but believe I am an honest and friendly man. If you will accept of my love and service I am content to trust myself to win yours."

Gudrid's throat was dry. She had difficulty in speaking. "I shall do my duty," she said. And then, "I shall obey my father in all things, as I ought."

Eric went over to her and took her hand. "I won't deny I shall be sorry to see you leave Brattalithe," he said. "I tell Th.o.r.e here that if my Leif had been at home there's no saying what might have happened--but as it is, he's the lucky one. He will have a sweet wife, and owe it to us that she is as happy as she is good." She gave him a swift and searching look, a flash of grat.i.tude in it for his humanity, but resumed her searching of the floor. Thorbeorn rose from his chair and said to Eric that they had better leave the pair together--but then Gudrid looked wild. "May I not go now? Must I stay here?" Her eyes asked so of Eric, but he only smiled. She caught at her father's sleeve. Then Thorbeorn kissed her forehead and said a few words of blessing. He and Eric went out together.

When they were gone Th.o.r.e went over to Gudrid and put his arm firmly round her. "I see, my dear, that you are upset by this news of ours.

Be sure that I understand it. My belief is, that you will be happy with me. I have a good house, warm and dry. You will see company, you will have your maids to see after; and when we have settled down together--maybe before the end of the summer, we will take ship to Iceland and pay a visit to my old mother who is in charge of my property out there. Now let me hear your voice. I know how sweetly you can talk--for I've heard you. And your singing makes me younger: a dreamer of dreams."

He seemed kind; his arm was strong and temperate. She imagined him much older than he was. But she didn't in the least know what to say to him. He waited for her, still holding her close, but she said nothing. So then: "Come, come," he said, "just a word or two"; and when she looked up and saw him laughing, she laughed too; and then he kissed her. "There," he said, "that is better," and drew her closer.

"You seem kind," she said.

"Ah," said Th.o.r.e, "you will find me so. The fonder I grow the kinder I shall be." He gave her a very friendly squeeze, and she began at once to be sorry for this strong, gentle-hearted man as she thought him.

Her face was now against his shoulder, his black beard brushed and tickled her forehead. She was rather breathless, but quite determined to tell him her trouble. "There is something which I ought to tell you."

"Is there, indeed? I thought that you might find your tongue perhaps, if I gave you time."

"But I should have found it before," she said, "if it had not been for my trouble."

"Well," he said, "and now for your trouble. Mind you, I've seen a good deal of the world, and don't expect miracles out of the church. So if you have had a sweetheart or two, think no more about it. Bless you--do you think I don't know?"

"No," she said, "it's not that. But it is that I have heard prophecies about myself. I am not a fortunate woman at all."

"Hum," he said. "Perhaps we had better clear up that. Now, you come and sit on my knee by the fire, and let me hear all about it." She did not decline that seat, but still she chose another. He sat in Eric's great chair, and she brought up a stool. He noticed that, and approved of it. "This is a girl who is not for the mere asking," he thought.

When she had told him all about Thorberg, he did not scoff, nor laugh, nor take it seriously either. He just considered it, with one large hand grasping his beard. "Well," he said, "some people have the gift, there's no doubt, and if your Thorberg had it not, all her mummeries would avail her nothing. You set them up for a deal, I fancy, but they are little to me. I am willing to believe her story, but what then?

So long as I am the first husband you have you may have twenty when I am gone. Likely enough that you will see to the burying of me. I must be twice your age. So much for your trouble, my dear."

"It was horrible to me," said Gudrid; "I have been unhappy ever since.

It seemed to me that I was accursed, and that no man ought to look at me."

"But how can they help looking at you, foolish girl, and you like a rose!" That gave her roses indeed, and a good deal more too.

"You are certainly very kind," she said, and he replied that if that was kindness, there need be no end to it.

She went away after a time, so free of her shadowy load that she sang as soon as she was out of the hall. She accepted the exuberant greeting of the girls with evident pleasure. Her colour was clear, her eyes shone like stars. They had plenty to tell her of Th.o.r.e. He was very rich, they said, and a widower. He had had a querulous and sick wife, and had always treated her well. He was not exactly "near," but thought twice about what he spent. He had a stone-built house up the country. A just man, and one who did not bend his knee to any one.

Eric Red had often quarrelled with him. Except Theodhild he was the only Christian among the great men. It was a pity he was so much older, with such a great beard. They wanted to know if it scratched you, but Gudrid wouldn't say.