The Sworn Brothers: A Tale of the Early Days of Iceland

by Gunnar Gunnarsson

The land they had come to was after Leif's heart. It made quite a different impression on him to any other land he had visited. The sense of power that brooded over it, and the almost palpable solitude, swallowed up the unrest of his mind and gave him peace. The mountains' strongly marked and infinitely varied shapes, a little copse hidden among grey cliffs, close up to a glacier, the heavily pouring rivers in deep ravines, the fjords where the swans swam among other fowls like royal dragon-ships among peaceful freighters, a seal bathing in the sun on a rock by the fjord, not wise enough to be afraid of men, the countless birds' nests with the snugly hidden, different-coloured eggs one came across everywhere, and then the soft, downy young ones hopping about between little hillocks—all filled his soul with a sense of wonder and calm hitherto unknown.

Ingolf and Leif made little excursions on their horses in the neighbourhood. They soon ascertained that the fjords north of the Svanefjords were very poor in pasture-land; the mountains descended for the most part steeply to the sea, while the land, on the other hand, seemed to become better the farther southward they went. When they had made that discovery they equipped themselves for a journey of some days in order to examine the land south of the Svanefjords more closely. Over a low, stony stretch of tableland they came to another inlocked fjord which was much broader than even the broad South Svanefjord. The greater part of the upland of this fjord was, however, covered with gravel and clay. Quite outside by the sea was a stretch of luxuriant meadow, and here and there stood rock-islets amid the sand, round which there were large green pastures. Farther up, right under the mountains, there was also pasture-land, and there they found the largest and most luxuriant wood they had yet seen. They came to a river with many rapidly flowing courses which streamed with clay-coloured, turbid water over a sandy and unsafe bottom. But they had caught sight of some sharp mountain-peaks far to the south-west, and since it could scarcely be difficult to cross the ravines between them, they resolved to proceed thither and see what was to be found on the other side. It was generally the case with this land, that one was not satisfied till one had seen what there was on the other side of all the mountains which came in view. They passed with some difficulty the dangerous river-current, and rode farther along high, steep mountain declivities striped with many-coloured gravel.

They found a ravine between the mountain-peaks, and when they had reached the other side of the mountains, there opened on them, while they rode along the edge of the steep descents which led down to the lowland, a view, the like of which they had never seen. A fjord dotted with small green islands, wide-stretching meadows and pastures intersected by gleaming watercourses, a wide bluish ring of mountains which locked in the luxuriant region with a mighty curve, and behind all this in the south and west, glaciers—an immense, slightly arched stretch of sparkling snow with white offshoots to all ravines.

It was on a clear, sunny day at noon that they stood there and surveyed this region, which arrested their minds with a sense of solemn wonder and irresistible fascination such as no view had ever done before. In his rapture, Leif laid his hand upon Ingolf's shoulder and pressed it; he had tears in his eyes, and his large mouth quivered. They had dismounted from their horses and stood silent for a long time. And when they mounted again to examine the district further, they rode on in silence. From that hour they were Icelanders; the land was theirs, and they belonged to it. In silence the compact was finally and irrevocably solemnized.

When they came back from their trip, Hallveig and Helga had an important and, as they themselves thought, serious piece of news to tell them. They had one day climbed up the green ascent above the encampment, quite up to the base of the cliffs, in order to get a wider view over the fjord and the district. And just as they sat and contemplated the low group of islands and a little island beyond it, they saw smoke rising from the island. It had been a perfectly calm and clear day; there could be no doubt that they had seen correctly. They had not said anything to the men, and they now only wished to ask Ingolf and Leif to be careful, and not to go about any more alone. Ingolf and Leif immediately put the larger of the two boats in the water, called some of their men, and bade them take their weapons with them. They wished to find out what kind of people they had for neighbours. It was in vain that Hallveig and Helga begged and prayed them not to insist on going out, and least of all in a little rowing-boat. The brothers were too resolved on finding out more about the smoke from the island. In answer to their wives they objected that the ship was too unwieldy, and was, moreover, not a ship of war. There was scarcely any chance of fighting; if there were people on the island, they were probably some peaceful, starving, shipwrecked men, whose vessel had been driven to sea and lost. For the rest, they promised to be careful, but they were resolved to go out to the island that day.

So they rowed out thither. Even when they had got quite close to it, they could see no sign that it was inhabited. They rowed round it, and still saw no inhabitants or buildings. They determined to land, and chose a creek on the south side of the island. As soon as they had landed, they saw a wretched little boat, in which they would hardly have trusted themselves to cross a fjord, hidden among the rocks. They went farther up on the island, and found a hut well concealed in a hollow.

As they approached, a man came forth in a splendid cloak and head-dress, with a staff in his hands, and followed by some lean shapes black with dirt, and meanly clad. They came out from the hut, but remained standing before the door, without going towards them. They had seen this kind of people before, and immediately perceived that they had what were called Irish monks before them.

Both Leif and Ingolf, as well as several of their men, knew some Irish, and therefore went nearer in order to hear a little why these people dwelt here on a desert island.

The monks, one of whom carried a cup of water, evidently did not wish them to come too near them or their dwelling. The sworn brothers remained standing at some distance and questioned them. The monks answered their questions reluctantly, but they gathered from them that they had lived here for several years, that they had long since heard reports of this land, and that other monks before them had journeyed to seek it out. They had not seen any of them, but the land was wide, and they had remained here on the island where they had first landed. This information Ingolf at last extracted from the monks, with many questions answered, for the most part, in monosyllables.

When the brothers could not think of anything more to ask them, and were going down to their boat again, the man with the head-dress, cloak, and staff stopped them with a question. "Why had they come hither?"