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Updated: May 3, 2025
She could laugh and talk with one and all, she could be grave with the grave and gentle with those who mourned. But she would not let any know that she mourned herself. Any hint towards Einar turned her to smooth stone. She had that kind of pride from her father, the kind that is tender of itself. As for Thorbeorn, he was splendid, and the more splendid he was the more he felt himself to be so.
Nobody could have been more easy to quarrel with than Heriolf upon the subject of his son, except Thorbeorn upon that of his daughter; yet there was no quarrel. It may be that Thorbeorn was too happy to stretch his thin legs towards a driftwood fire again, or again, that he recognised the sweet kernel of his host under the cruddled husk.
In and out among his guests Heriolf ran in a great taking. "Heard any one the like of this, that I should think of everything, and fail for one?" But nobody knew the songs. In his naked bed behind the wall lay old Thorbeorn with the blanket up to his nose, and jerked his thin legs, losing not one tittle of all this.
He would not like it at all." The priest spoke to Halldis about it, and scared her. "It is not the custom here," she said, "but I will ask Orme." The priest himself asked Orme, who rubbed his chin. "One thing at a time is a good rule," he said. "We in Iceland are not much given to private talks between men and women. Husband and wife is all very well. And Thorbeorn is a peculiar man.
He resolved to give a great feast to all his friends and acquaintances, such a feast as should make men say that nobody had ever confronted misfortune more gallantly than Thorbeorn of Bathbrink. It was a noble feast, lasting three days and nights; the greatest there had been made within the memory of men. Everybody came, for enmities were all forgotten.
"All chattering together like starlings on a thatch. All talking at once, and none listening. Do you wish her fetched?" "No," said Thorbeorn, waving his hand. "She will do better where she is." He felt the impossibility of saying what he wished. Then he took his way homewards, and the couple looked at each other. "A love affair," Halldis said. "It looks like it," said Orme.
I think I could be useful to Thorbeorn, if he would allow it and I need not tell you I set no bounds in reason upon what I would put down for the sake of the match." "Well," said Orme, "I will go and see him." Gudrid could hear nothing of this until the morning; but then Einar told her what he had arranged with Orme.
"It may be that you will be glad enough to be sure of it before you have done with them. I am sure that I should be." That was all the comfort she got out of Freydis; but happily she had a diversion of her thoughts. Biorn Heriolfsson, who had come round the Ness soon after Thorbeorn sailed, now came up to see Eric Red.
There they remained for the autumn and winter following; and then went home to tell Eric Red and Lief the fate of young Thorwald. Thorbeorn of Stockness died of the winter sickness the winter before Thorwald sailed for Wineland. Thore himself had been very sick too, but he recovered and was almost himself that summer.
Thorbeorn waved his hand before him as though to brush gossamer from his path, and stalked away with his chin in the air, and his beard jutting out like a willow in the wind. He kept his word, though; and took himself to bed when the feast began. These were the preparations made for Thorberg's visit.
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