Some men stopped eating as they heard him; some turned away and would not begin to eat. Karlsefne, when he knew what was going on, came down like a flame of fire. "What is this he says? That this is his doing—with prayers to Thor? And you of the new faith and the true faith, eat of what he offers to his idols! Cast that beastliness to the sea, and be done with it." Some of the eaters were ill already, and many were to be so; but Karlsefne was obeyed. The cauldrons were emptied over the cliffs, and the birds gathered from all quarters. They went hungry, and suffered much that winter; but by leading the cattle far into the woods they managed to keep them alive, and Gudrid did not fail of milk. Her boy was born on Christmas Eve, and christened by Karlsefne himself. He named him Snorre after his own grandfather.
After that things went better. There came rain which broke up the ice and thinned off all the snow. They began to get fish again; mild westerly winds enabled them to go farther afield. Biorn came up from his anchorage to see Karlsefne, and debates about the future were renewed.
Karlsefne was now bent on going south, and Biorn, with Thorhall, equally set upon the north. It was clear that the two ships must part company; and so they did as soon as the spring weather was come. The tale has little more to say of Biorn and his party. It is supposed that they fell in with bad weather in the north, and that they were driven over the ocean. Thorhall was heard of long afterwards in Ireland, as having fought and died there.
XXVII
But Karlsefne, the prosperous man, did well. He sailed along the land in and out of beautiful wooded islands until he came to the mouth of a great river.[1] He entered that on the flood and sailed up for many days. It was a broad and noble river which came, as they discovered, out of a lake. Here was such a land as they had never seen before, so beautiful, so fruitful that they had no desire to seek further. They called this land Hope, for here was the utmost they had dreamed of. There were broad acres of wheat growing here, self-sown; upon the slopes of the hills wild vines were thick and full of bud; the streams were full of fish; there were deer in the woods, and everywhere in the early mornings the piping of birds. Karlsefne said: "My Gudrid, we have found Wineland the Good. Here we will stay awhile." She was happy to be in so good a place.
They made their camp on the shores of the lake, and built themselves houses of timber, with a stockade and trench about the whole Settlement. There was abundance of food for the animals, abundance for themselves, with promise of a harvest both of corn and of wine. No signs of human occupation had been found as yet. They began to think that they had Wineland to themselves, and used to go far afield, even to being out for days together and sleeping in the open. But Karlsefne kept his eyes wide for some possible attack, and was proved to be right.
Early one morning when he went down to the lake shore he saw boats upon the quiet water. He counted nine of them. They kept close company and came on steadily. He looked beyond them but could see no more. "With no more than nine of them, this won't be a long affair," he thought to himself; but he went back to the Settlement and called out his men. Then he went into his own house and called Gudrid to come. "Are you minded to see some of the Winelanders, my Gudrid? Bring your baby with you, and I will show them to you. I don't think they mean us any harm." Gudrid went with him without question.
By this time the settlers had lined the shore, and the hide-boats had drawn up within bowshot and were making signals. A man stood up in each boat and waved a pole over his head. He swept it round in circles, and moved it from east to west, following the course of the sun. "What do they want with us?" says Karlsefne. "Not war, I think. Now who will come out to meet them with me? We will show them a white shield, but there shall be weapons at the bottom of the boat." He soon had a crew, and was soon afloat.
The native boats scattered out in a half-moon as the adventurers came on. Karlsefne saw that he was being hemmed in, but having the notion fixed in his head that no harm was intended, he did not give orders to cease rowing, and stood up in the bows himself with his white shield displayed. When he was within speaking distance he bade his men rest on their oars. By and by, as he had expected, curiosity did his work for him. The hide-boats came in and in, each of them holding five or six men. In one at least he saw a woman with a baby. "If they bring their babies out to see us, it's no more than I have done," Karlsefne said. "They mean peace, and they shall have it."
He invited them forward with open arms, and all signs of friendliness, and presently they were all crowded about. Small people they were, very dark brown, very ugly, with flat faces, coarse black hair twisted and tortured into peaks and knots. They had broad fat cheeks and enormous eyes. Their talk was like the chattering of birds.