defied his archbishop, and went so far beyond the pale that he turned to the infidel, and actually went to the country of the Saracens to find out about ancient writings and the stars. Karlsefni would have done the same. I know that means nothing to you. Karlsefni isn’t in your Church; he has no authority for you. But he knew the call you know, to go on, and on, beyond the limits we’ve made for ourselves. He knew the importance of the stars, although he never heard the word you use, astronomy. You call it an art. To me, it’s the heart of the mystery, the thing that gives meaning to all sailing directions, which we in our ignorance do our best to follow. You wince; you think I blaspheme, and maybe I do. We were punished, as you’ll hear, not outwardly, of course; there was no Pope or Cardinal for us. But I think you and I are haunted by the same thing. We’ve both gone too far. We’ve seen too many ghosts. Isn’t your trouble now, Agnar, not that you have been reprimanded by your Church for pursuing pagan knowledge, but that you know that the world they tell you to stick to is not thewhole truth? You’ve brought something back from the wilds with you, that eats away at your faith. Isn’t that it?
* * * * *
I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have spoken. How did I get on to that? Oh yes, happiness. I was telling you about our first year at Brattahlid.
I was happy, although surrounded by tensions. The relief was that they weren’t mine. Feeling detached, as I did, I began to enjoy the drama. It may seem wicked to you, but I enjoyed the sexual tension too. I’d never been fought over before. It was foolish to think I’d get away unscathed, but I wasn’t part of Eirik’s family yet, and I thought I was still free.
Eirik welcomed my father as if they had been foster brothers. I hadn’t realised they were that close; in fact they weren’t. Eirik Raudi seems when you first meet him to be a bluff, simple sort of man, but in fact he’s as devious as a salmon. He rules – ruled – his Green Land with a wiliness which would do credit to your Lateran. When I say ruled, I mean it. A few of the settlers were also chieftains in their new territories, but there was nothing like the Thing Quarters that we have in Iceland. When we first went to Greenland, disputes in both settlements were referred to Eirik at Brattahlid. One chief can’t be the whole of the law, and Eirik had the sense never to claim to be anything but a chieftain among his peers.
In fact the very first summer I stayed at Brattahlid they had the first meeting of the Greenland Thing. It was carefully arranged that the meeting should not be at Eirik’s house, and so the first booths were built about a mile to the south, so as to seem like no man’s territory. Who came? Einar of Gardar, of course, with his son Thorkel, who later married Freydis, God help him. She had her eye on him even then, because Gardar is one of the richest farms in Greenland, now that they’ve drained that marshy plain. Who else? Thorkel of Hvalsey, Ketil, Hrafn, Thorbjorn from Siglufjord, Hafgrim from Vatnaherfdi, and, to my father’s embarrassment, Snorri Thorbrandsson and his brother Thorleif, old enemies from the Snaefelsnes feuds. They’darrived the year before and wintered at Dyrnes. Eirik said nothing about old grievances, and my father had to agree to do the same. Eirik was more interested in colonising his new land now than in pursuing old quarrels. No one came from the Western Settlement, but as it was, I was amazed to see how many neighbours we had, scattered among the apparently empty fjords. But Eirik Raudi always came first among them, not only because he was the first settler, but by sheer force of personality.
I had a child’s memory of him, as a great, red man towering over everything in our hall. I was a woman now, but that first impression was never quite superseded. Eirik’s family were unruly, to say the least of it, and the other settlers were proud and
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