“Sure? Ay, as sure as I am that a horse is not a cow,” replied Hake, smiling.
“Go then, and luck go with you.”
The nets were soon set in the bay, near the point of the ness on which the huts were built, and near to which a small mountain-stream entered the lake.
Suddenly a shrill angry voice was heard issuing from one of the smaller huts near the lake. It was Freydissa storming at poor Bertha. There was an occasional bass growl intermingled with it. That was Thorward remonstrating.
“Poor Bertha,” said Karlsefin to Biarne, who was standing beside him at the time, “she has a hard mistress.”
“Poor Thorward,” said Biarne, “he has a tough wife.”
“Thorward will cure or kill her,” rejoined Karlsefin, with a laugh. “He is a long-suffering man, and very tender to women withal, but he is not made of butter.”
Biarne shook his head. He evidently had not much opinion of Thorward’s resolution when opposed by the will and passion of such a termagant as Freydissa.
“How much better ’twould have been,” said he, “if Thorward had married her maid—the sweet little fair-haired blue-eyed Bertha.”
“Why, Biarne, methinks that thou art somewhat like to try that plan,” said his friend, looking at him in surprise, for he had spoken with much enthusiasm.
“Not I, man,” returned Biarne, with a smile and a shake of the head. “It is long since my heart was buried in Iceland. I am doomed to be an old bachelor now.”
They both listened at this point, for the domestic brawl in the small hut seemed to be waxing furious. Thorward’s voice was not heard so often, but when it did sound there was an unusually stern tone in it, and Freydissa’s became so loud that her words were audible.
“It has been killed, I tell you, Bertha, by sheer carelessness. If you had fed it properly it would have been as well as the others. Don’t say you did your best for it. You didn’t. You know you didn’t. You’re a smooth-faced vixen. You are. Don’t speak. Don’t speak back, I say. Hold your tongue. You killed that kitten by carelessness.”
“If you don’t hold your tongue, wife,” said Thorward, in a loud stern voice, “I’ll kill the cat too.”
There was a pause here, as if the threat had taken away Freydissa’s breath.
“Oho! that’s the poor little kitten,” whispered Karlsefin to Biarne, referring to one of a litter that had been born at sea, “that was nigh eaten by one of the dogs. Bertha had no hand in its death. I wonder it lived so long.”
“Kill the cat?” shrieked Freydissa, stamping her foot.
This was instantly followed by an unearthly caterwaul and the sudden appearance of a dark object in the air, which, issuing from the door of the hut, flew upwards like a sky-rocket, described a wide curve, and fell heavily about fifty yards out into the lake. Next moment Freydissa sprang from the hut and stood with clasped hands on the shore in speechless horror. Thorward immediately after came forth with a dark frown on his face, and walked away into the forest. Freydissa stood like a statue for some minutes, and then, seeing that the cat lay quite motionless, she turned, and, with a face that was deadly pale, re-entered the hut.
“It was cruel,” observed Karlsefin sadly.
“But salutary, perhaps,” said Biarne.
“It may be so,” rejoined the other; “but even if Thorward’s end be a good one, a right end does not justify a wrong action.—Ah! here comes sunshine. How goes it, Gudrid?”
Gudrid, who came forward at the moment, and knew nothing of what had occurred, said that she wanted Karlsefin’s help, if he could spare time, in order to arrange some of the fixtures in their new home.
Assuring her that she herself was the most valuable “fixture” in the house, Karlsefin left his work and the two walked off together, while Biarne went down to the ship.
Meanwhile Thorward returned to his hut, where he found Freydissa alone, sitting on a box with her face buried in her hands. She did not move, so he sat down beside her with a subdued look.
“Freydissa,” he said, “I’m sorry I did that. ’Twas cruel, ’twas hard; but it is done now, and can’t be undone. Forgive me, lass, if you can.”
She raised her head suddenly, and gazed at him with a flushed countenance.
“Thorward,” she said with energy, “if you had come with any other tone or word I would have hated you with all the power of my heart—”
“And that’s a strong power, Freydissa.”
“It is. But now—”
She threw her arms round her husband’s neck and kissed him. Thorward returned the kiss with the vigour of a man who is wont to give back more than he gets.
“Thanks, my girl,” said he, rising, “thanks. That puts my heart at ease. As for the poor cat, she’s beyond the influence of anger or repentance now; but trust me, Freydissa, I shall fetch you the handsomest cat that can be had for love or money in all Greenland, or Iceland; ay, even if I should have to make a special voyage to get hold of it.”
Thus did Thorward and Freydissa fall out, and thus were they reconciled, on the first day in their new home in Vinland.
Talking this matter over with Thorward next day, Karlsefin took occasion to give his friend some sage advice.
“Depend upon it, Thorward,” said he, “no good ever comes of quarrelling or violence, but, on the contrary, much evil. ’Tis well that you confessed your fault to her, else had she ever after held you in light esteem; because, although she deserved reproof, the cat did not deserve to be killed.”
“Beshrew me!”
“Nay,” interrupted Karlsefin, with a laugh, “that is the last thing you ought to say, seeing that you have had so much beshrewing already.”
“Well, well,” said Thorward, “thou art wonderfully smart at giving good advice.”
“Would that I could say thou wert equally smart at taking it! However, I have hope of thee, Thorward. Come, let us go see what the nets have produced. I observe Hake and Heika rowing to land.”
It was found that the fishermen had loaded their boat with magnificent trout of all sizes—some above five or six pounds’ weight—besides a large quantity of excellent fish of other kinds, but not a single salmon had been taken. Nevertheless they had good reason to be content with their success, for the supply was sufficient to provide a hearty supper for the whole party, so that the first night in the new home,—like the first night in the new land,—was a merry one.
Chapter Eleven.
SETTLING DOWN—HAKE Proves that his Arms, as well as his Legs, are Good—A Wonderful Fishing Incident, which Ends in a Scene Between Freydissa and Krake.
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THE LITTLE HAMLET ON the Vinland lake, which had been so long silent and deserted, resounded from that time forth with the voices and activities of energetic labourers, for these adventurous Norsemen had much to do before their new home could be made comfortable.
The forest and undergrowth around had to be cleared; the huts, of which there were six, had to be cleaned out, fitted up with new parchment in the windows—for there was no glass in those days—and new thatch on the roofs, besides being generally repaired; additional huts had to be built for the people, pens for the sheep, and stabling for the cattle, all of which implied felling and squaring timber, while the smaller articles of household