Now some who stood by brought Hiarandi this tale. "Have a care," said they. "Thy neighbor Einar sets himself above thee."
"Then he must set himself high," answered Hiarandi with a laugh, "for his land lies far lower than mine."
Then others carried that tale to Einar, and he laid it up in his mind; but Hiarandi forgot all that had been said, nor did he remember to tell of it to Asdis when they had returned from the games.
Then the winter passed on with severe storms, and ships were wrecked on Cragness rocks, but no men reached shore. And Einar envied the more the riches that came to Hiarandi from the wrecks, in firewood, timber, and merchandise. And once a whale came ashore, and that was great fortune. But one evening, as those at Cragness sat within the hall, Asdis came and stood beside her husband, and said, "Listen to the wind."
"There is no need to listen," said Hiarandi. "The wind howls for a storm, and this night will be bad."
Then Thurid the bondservant, who sat by the fire, looked up and said, "Ships are off the land."
"Hearest thou that?" asked Asdis in a low voice. "The woman is strange, but she forecasts well."
"Aye," answered Hiarandi, "it is likely that ships will be on the rocks by morning.
"Now," asked Asdis, "dost thou remember the time thou camest ashore, these many years ago?"
"How should I forget it?" responded Hiarandi.
"But no one can rush into the water here," said Asdis, "to save those who are wrecked."
"That is true," quoth Hiarandi. "I am sorry for the mariners, yet how is one to help?"
Then the bondservant raised her head and sang this song:
"The sea brings money;
Money is bonny.
Bless then the sea
Which brings good to thee."
After that she sat silent and sunken as before.
"Hear the hag," said Asdis, shuddering. "But we prosper through the misfortunes of others."
"What is to be done?" asked Hiarandi.
"It is in my mind," said Asdis, "that if we made a fire-beacon, people could steer from shore and so into safe harbor farther up the firth."
"Now," quoth Hiarandi, "that might be done."
"Wilt thou do it?" asked Asdis.
Then the woman raised her head and sang again:
"He is a fool
Who leaves old rule.
Set heart 'gainst head.
How then butter thy bread?"
Then Hiarandi said to Asdis: "No man has ever yet set beacons against shipwreck. All men agree to take the fortune of the sea; and what is cast on a man's beaches, that is his by old custom."
"Thinkest thou that is right?" asked Asdis.
"Moreover," went on Hiarandi, "the sea is but giving me again what it took away."
"Never can the sea," answered Asdis, "give thee true happiness through other men's misfortunes."
"Remember the boy," said Hiarandi. "Shall I leave him with nothing to begin the world with? For my own earnings bring me at most a mark of silver in the year."
"For all that," replied Asdis, "it is in my mind that to do otherwise were to do better. Now canst thou have the heart that men should die longer on our rocks, and we not do our best to save them?"
Then Hiarandi, answering nothing, rose and paced up and down before the fire. And the carline sang once more:
"Take what is given.
No man is wise
Who asketh twice
If earth or heaven
Sends him his prize."
But Asdis stood upright, and she sang:
"Suffer not wrong
To happen long,
Lest punishment
From heaven be sent."
Now in Iceland all men loved the singing of skalds; but though Hiarandi had heard the carline sing many times before, never had he heard rhymes from his wife. So he stood astonished.
Then the bondservant sang again:
"Ill will attend
The beacon's lighting.
Bad spirit's guiding
Will bring false friend."
But Asdis sang with great vehemence:
"Let God decide
What fate shall ride
Upon the wind.
Be thou not blind
To duty's hest.
My rede is best.
List to the storm!
Go! Save from harm
The mariner
Whose fate is near.
To others do
As I did once to you."
And it seemed to Hiarandi as if she commanded him. Moreover, as he listened, the storm roared louder. Then he seized his cloak, and cried to his thralls, "Up, and out with me to make a beacon!"
Though they dared not disobey, they grumbled, and they got their cloaks slowly. For they saw slipping away from them the fine pickings from the wreck, which brought them warm clothes and handsome. Out they went with Hiarandi into the storm, and kindled a great fire at the edge of the cliff. And Rolf toiled too; but Asdis did best of all, for she brought out in a kettle great strips of whale's blubber, and flung them on the fire. Then the flames flared high and wide, as bright as day. And Rolf sprang to the edge of the cliffs and gazed upon the water. Then, pointing, he cried, "Look!"
Down below was a ship; its sail flapped in rags, and the crew were laboring mightily at the oars to save themselves, looking with dread at the white breakers and the looming rocks. Now in the strength of their fear they held the vessel where she was; and by the broad light of the fire every man of them was visible to the Cragness-dwellers. To Rolf that was a dreadful sight. But the bit of a sail was set, and men ran to the steering-oar to hold the vessel stiff; and behold, she moved forward, staggered past the rocks, made clearer water, and wore slowly out into the firth. Even the thralls shouted at the sight.
Then Hiarandi left one of the thralls to keep the fire, and went back to the hall with those others. There the carline still sat.
"So he is safe past the rocks?" she asked, yet speaking as if she knew.
"Aye, safe," answered Hiarandi.
"Now," said she, "thou hast brought thy evil fortune on thyself, and it will be hard to avoid the extreme of it."
"I care not," answered Hiarandi, "even though I suffer for a good deed."
"Nevertheless," said the carline, "the future may be safe, though without riches, if thou wilt be guided by me. Wilt thou follow my redes?"
"No advices of thine do I follow," replied Hiarandi. "For methinks thou still servest the old gods, and canst work witchcraft. Speak no more of this matter in my house; and practise not thy sorcery before my eyes, for the law gives death as punishment."
"Now," answered the woman, "like a foolish man, thou rushest on thy fate. And I see clearly that thou art not he who was spoken of in the prophecy. Not a fortunate Soursop art thou."
"Since the slaying of Kol, who put the curse on all our stock," answered Hiarandi, "has but one of the Soursops prospered. How then should I be fortunate?"
"Two were to prosper," the woman replied. "And each