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booksum | You are a highly sophisticated AI summarization expert with an exceptional ability to distill complex narratives into comprehensive yet concise summaries. Your task is to create a detailed summary that captures the essence of the given text, including key plot points, character developments, themes, and significant events. Ensure your summary is coherent, well-structured, and maintains the narrative flow of the original text. Aim for a summary length of approximately 1000-1500 words, adjusting as necessary based on the complexity and length of the source material. Your summary should be optimized for high precision, focusing on lexical overlap and semantic similarity with the original text. | Chapter: <CHAPTER>
1. AT THE BAY. Chapter 1.I.
Very early morning. The sun was not yet risen, and the whole of Crescent
Bay was hidden under a white sea-mist. The big bush-covered hills at the
back were smothered. You could not see where they ended and the paddocks
and bungalows began. The sandy road was gone and the paddocks and
bungalows the other side of it; there were no white dunes covered with
reddish grass beyond them; there was nothing to mark which was beach and
where was the sea. A heavy dew had fallen. The grass was blue. Big drops
hung on the bushes and just did not fall; the silvery, fluffy toi-toi
was limp on its long stalks, and all the marigolds and the pinks in the
bungalow gardens were bowed to the earth with wetness. Drenched were the
cold fuchsias, round pearls of dew lay on the flat nasturtium leaves. It
looked as though the sea had beaten up softly in the darkness, as though
one immense wave had come rippling, rippling--how far? Perhaps if you
had waked up in the middle of the night you might have seen a big fish
flicking in at the window and gone again....
Ah-Aah! sounded the sleepy sea. And from the bush there came the sound
of little streams flowing, quickly, lightly, slipping between the smooth
stones, gushing into ferny basins and out again; and there was the
splashing of big drops on large leaves, and something else--what was
it?--a faint stirring and shaking, the snapping of a twig and then such
silence that it seemed some one was listening.
Round the corner of Crescent Bay, between the piled-up masses of broken
rock, a flock of sheep came pattering. They were huddled together, a
small, tossing, woolly mass, and their thin, stick-like legs trotted
along quickly as if the cold and the quiet had frightened them. Behind
them an old sheep-dog, his soaking paws covered with sand, ran along
with his nose to the ground, but carelessly, as if thinking of something
else. And then in the rocky gateway the shepherd himself appeared. He
was a lean, upright old man, in a frieze coat that was covered with a
web of tiny drops, velvet trousers tied under the knee, and a wide-awake
with a folded blue handkerchief round the brim. One hand was crammed
into his belt, the other grasped a beautifully smooth yellow stick. And
as he walked, taking his time, he kept up a very soft light whistling,
an airy, far-away fluting that sounded mournful and tender. The old
dog cut an ancient caper or two and then drew up sharp, ashamed of his
levity, and walked a few dignified paces by his master's side. The sheep
ran forward in little pattering rushes; they began to bleat, and ghostly
flocks and herds answered them from under the sea. "Baa! Baaa!" For a
time they seemed to be always on the same piece of ground. There ahead
was stretched the sandy road with shallow puddles; the same soaking
bushes showed on either side and the same shadowy palings. Then
something immense came into view; an enormous shock-haired giant with
his arms stretched out. It was the big gum-tree outside Mrs. Stubbs'
shop, and as they passed by there was a strong whiff of eucalyptus.
And now big spots of light gleamed in the mist. The shepherd stopped
whistling; he rubbed his red nose and wet beard on his wet sleeve and,
screwing up his eyes, glanced in the direction of the sea. The sun
was rising. It was marvellous how quickly the mist thinned, sped away,
dissolved from the shallow plain, rolled up from the bush and was gone
as if in a hurry to escape; big twists and curls jostled and shouldered
each other as the silvery beams broadened. The far-away sky--a bright,
pure blue--was reflected in the puddles, and the drops, swimming along
the telegraph poles, flashed into points of light. Now the leaping,
glittering sea was so bright it made one's eyes ache to look at it. The
shepherd drew a pipe, the bowl as small as an acorn, out of his breast
pocket, fumbled for a chunk of speckled tobacco, pared off a few
shavings and stuffed the bowl. He was a grave, fine-looking old man.
As he lit up and the blue smoke wreathed his head, the dog, watching,
looked proud of him.
"Baa! Baaa!" The sheep spread out into a fan. They were just clear of
the summer colony before the first sleeper turned over and lifted a
drowsy head; their cry sounded in the dreams of little children... who
lifted their arms to drag down, to cuddle the darling little woolly
lambs of sleep. Then the first inhabitant appeared; it was the Burnells'
cat Florrie, sitting on the gatepost, far too early as usual, looking
for their milk-girl. When she saw the old sheep-dog she sprang up
quickly, arched her back, drew in her tabby head, and seemed to give a
little fastidious shiver. "Ugh! What a coarse, revolting creature!" said
Florrie. But the old sheep-dog, not looking up, waggled past, flinging
out his legs from side to side. Only one of his ears twitched to prove
that he saw, and thought her a silly young female.
The breeze of morning lifted in the bush and the smell of leaves and wet
black earth mingled with the sharp smell of the sea. Myriads of birds
were singing. A goldfinch flew over the shepherd's head and, perching on
the tiptop of a spray, it turned to the sun, ruffling its small breast
feathers. And now they had passed the fisherman's hut, passed the
charred-looking little whare where Leila the milk-girl lived with her
old Gran. The sheep strayed over a yellow swamp and Wag, the sheep-dog,
padded after, rounded them up and headed them for the steeper, narrower
rocky pass that led out of Crescent Bay and towards Daylight Cove. "Baa!
Baa!" Faint the cry came as they rocked along the fast-drying road. The
shepherd put away his pipe, dropping it into his breast-pocket so that
the little bowl hung over. And straightway the soft airy whistling began
again. Wag ran out along a ledge of rock after something that smelled,
and ran back again disgusted. Then pushing, nudging, hurrying, the sheep
rounded the bend and the shepherd followed after out of sight.
Chapter 1.II.
A few moments later the back door of one of the bungalows opened, and a
figure in a broad-striped bathing suit flung down the paddock, cleared
the stile, rushed through the tussock grass into the hollow, staggered
up the sandy hillock, and raced for dear life over the big porous
stones, over the cold, wet pebbles, on to the hard sand that gleamed
like oil. Splish-Splosh! Splish-Splosh! The water bubbled round his
legs as Stanley Burnell waded out exulting. First man in as usual! He'd
beaten them all again. And he swooped down to souse his head and neck.
"Hail, brother! All hail, Thou Mighty One!" A velvety bass voice came
booming over the water.
Great Scott! Damnation take it! Stanley lifted up to see a dark head
bobbing far out and an arm lifted. It was Jonathan Trout--there before
him! "Glorious morning!" sang the voice.
"Yes, very fine!" said Stanley briefly. Why the dickens didn't the
fellow stick to his part of the sea? Why should he come barging over to
this exact spot? Stanley gave a kick, a lunge and struck out, swimming
overarm. But Jonathan was a match for him. Up he came, his black hair
sleek on his forehead, his short beard sleek.
"I had an extraordinary dream last night!" he shouted.
What was the matter with the man? This mania for conversation irritated
Stanley beyond words. And it was always the same--always some piffle
about a dream he'd had, or some cranky idea he'd got hold of, or some
rot he'd been reading. Stanley turned over on his back and kicked with
his legs till he was a living waterspout. But even then... "I dreamed I
was hanging over a terrifically high cliff, shouting to some one below."
You would be! thought Stanley. He could stick no more of it. He stopped
splashing. "Look here, Trout," he said, "I'm in rather a hurry this
morning."
"You're WHAT?" Jonathan was so surprised--or pretended to be--that he
sank under the water, then reappeared again blowing.
"All I mean is," said Stanley, "I've no time to--to--to fool about.
I want to get this over. I'm in a hurry. I've work to do this
morning--see?"
Jonathan was gone before Stanley had finished. "Pass, friend!" said the
bass voice gently, and he slid away through the water with scarcely
a ripple... But curse the fellow! He'd ruined Stanley's bathe. What an
unpractical idiot the man was! Stanley struck out to sea again, and
then as quickly swam in again, and away he rushed up the beach. He felt
cheated.
Jonathan stayed a little longer in the water. He floated, gently moving
his hands like fins, and letting the sea rock his long, skinny body. It
was curious, but in spite of everything he was fond of Stanley Burnell.
True, he had a fiendish desire to tease him sometimes, to poke fun at
him, but at bottom he was sorry for the fellow. There was something
pathetic in his determination to make a job of everything. You couldn't
help feeling he'd be caught out one day, and then what an almighty
cropper he'd come! At that moment an immense wave lifted Jonathan, rode
past him, and broke along the beach with a joyful sound. What a beauty!
And now there came another. That was the way to live--carelessly,
recklessly, spending oneself. He got on to his feet and began to wade
towards the shore, pressing his toes into the firm, wrinkled sand. To
take things easy, not to fight against the ebb and flow of life, but to
give way to it--that was what was needed. It was this tension that was
all wrong. To live--to live! And the perfect morning, so fresh and fair,
basking in the light, as though laughing at its own beauty, seemed to
whisper, "Why not?"
But now he was out of the water Jonathan turned blue with cold. He ached
all over; it was as though some one was wringing the blood out of him.
And stalking up the beach, shivering, all his muscles tight, he too felt
his bathe was spoilt. He'd stayed in too long.
Chapter 1.III.
Beryl was alone in the living-room when Stanley appeared, wearing a blue
serge suit, a stiff collar and a spotted tie. He looked almost uncannily
clean and brushed; he was going to town for the day. Dropping into his
chair, he pulled out his watch and put it beside his plate.
"I've just got twenty-five minutes," he said. "You might go and see if
the porridge is ready, Beryl?"
"Mother's just gone for it," said Beryl. She sat down at the table and
poured out his tea.
"Thanks!" Stanley took a sip. "Hallo!" he said in an astonished voice,
"you've forgotten the sugar."
"Oh, sorry!" But even then Beryl didn't help him; she pushed the basin
across. What did this mean? As Stanley helped himself his blue
eyes widened; they seemed to quiver. He shot a quick glance at his
sister-in-law and leaned back.
"Nothing wrong, is there?" he asked carelessly, fingering his collar.
Beryl's head was bent; she turned her plate in her fingers.
"Nothing," said her light voice. Then she too looked up, and smiled at
Stanley. "Why should there be?"
"O-oh! No reason at all as far as I know. I thought you seemed rather--"
At that moment the door opened and the three little girls appeared, each
carrying a porridge plate. They were dressed alike in blue jerseys and
knickers; their brown legs were bare, and each had her hair plaited
and pinned up in what was called a horse's tail. Behind them came Mrs.
Fairfield with the tray.
"Carefully, children," she warned. But they were taking the very
greatest care. They loved being allowed to carry things. "Have you said
good morning to your father?"
"Yes, grandma." They settled themselves on the bench opposite Stanley
and Beryl.
"Good morning, Stanley!" Old Mrs. Fairfield gave him his plate.
"Morning, mother! How's the boy?"
"Splendid! He only woke up once last night. What a perfect morning!" The
old woman paused, her hand on the loaf of bread, to gaze out of the
open door into the garden. The sea sounded. Through the wide-open
window streamed the sun on to the yellow varnished walls and bare floor.
Everything on the table flashed and glittered. In the middle there was
an old salad bowl filled with yellow and red nasturtiums. She smiled,
and a look of deep content shone in her eyes.
"You might cut me a slice of that bread, mother," said Stanley. "I've
only twelve and a half minutes before the coach passes. Has anyone given
my shoes to the servant girl?"
"Yes, they're ready for you." Mrs. Fairfield was quite unruffled.
"Oh, Kezia! Why are you such a messy child!" cried Beryl despairingly.
"Me, Aunt Beryl?" Kezia stared at her. What had she done now? She had
only dug a river down the middle of her porridge, filled it, and was
eating the banks away. But she did that every single morning, and no one
had said a word up till now.
"Why can't you eat your food properly like Isabel and Lottie?" How
unfair grown-ups are!
"But Lottie always makes a floating island, don't you, Lottie?"
"I don't," said Isabel smartly. "I just sprinkle mine with sugar and put
on the milk and finish it. Only babies play with their food."
Stanley pushed back his chair and got up.
"Would you get me those shoes, mother? And, Beryl, if you've finished,
I wish you'd cut down to the gate and stop the coach. Run in to your
mother, Isabel, and ask her where my bowler hat's been put. Wait a
minute--have you children been playing with my stick?"
"No, father!"
"But I put it here." Stanley began to bluster. "I remember distinctly
putting it in this corner. Now, who's had it? There's no time to lose.
Look sharp! The stick's got to be found."
Even Alice, the servant-girl, was drawn into the chase. "You haven't
been using it to poke the kitchen fire with by any chance?"
Stanley dashed into the bedroom where Linda was lying. "Most
extraordinary thing. I can't keep a single possession to myself. They've
made away with my stick, now!"
"Stick, dear? What stick?" Linda's vagueness on these occasions could
not be real, Stanley decided. Would nobody sympathize with him?
"Coach! Coach, Stanley!" Beryl's voice cried from the gate.
Stanley waved his arm to Linda. "No time to say good-bye!" he cried. And
he meant that as a punishment to her.
He snatched his bowler hat, dashed out of the house, and swung down the
garden path. Yes, the coach was there waiting, and Beryl, leaning over
the open gate, was laughing up at somebody or other just as if nothing
had happened. The heartlessness of women! The way they took it for
granted it was your job to slave away for them while they didn't even
take the trouble to see that your walking-stick wasn't lost. Kelly
trailed his whip across the horses.
"Good-bye, Stanley," called Beryl, sweetly and gaily. It was easy enough
to say good-bye! And there she stood, idle, shading her eyes with her
hand. The worst of it was Stanley had to shout good-bye too, for the
sake of appearances. Then he saw her turn, give a little skip and run
back to the house. She was glad to be rid of him!
Yes, she was thankful. Into the living-room she ran and called "He's
gone!" Linda cried from her room: "Beryl! Has Stanley gone?" Old Mrs.
Fairfield appeared, carrying the boy in his little flannel coatee.
"Gone?"
"Gone!"
Oh, the relief, the difference it made to have the man out of the house.
Their very voices were changed as they called to one another; they
sounded warm and loving and as if they shared a secret. Beryl went over
to the table. "Have another cup of tea, mother. It's still hot." She
wanted, somehow, to celebrate the fact that they could do what they
liked now. There was no man to disturb them; the whole perfect day was
theirs.
"No, thank you, child," said old Mrs. Fairfield, but the way at that
moment she tossed the boy up and said "a-goos-a-goos-a-ga!" to him
meant that she felt the same. The little girls ran into the paddock like
chickens let out of a coop.
Even Alice, the servant-girl, washing up the dishes in the kitchen,
caught the infection and used the precious tank water in a perfectly
reckless fashion.
"Oh, these men!" said she, and she plunged the teapot into the bowl and
held it under the water even after it had stopped bubbling, as if it too
was a man and drowning was too good for them.
Chapter 1.IV.
"Wait for me, Isa-bel! Kezia, wait for me!"
There was poor little Lottie, left behind again, because she found it so
fearfully hard to get over the stile by herself. When she stood on the
first step her knees began to wobble; she grasped the post. Then you had
to put one leg over. But which leg? She never could decide. And when she
did finally put one leg over with a sort of stamp of despair--then the
feeling was awful. She was half in the paddock still and half in the
tussock grass. She clutched the post desperately and lifted up her
voice. "Wait for me!"
"No, don't you wait for her, Kezia!" said Isabel. "She's such a little
silly. She's always making a fuss. Come on!" And she tugged Kezia's
jersey. "You can use my bucket if you come with me," she said kindly.
"It's bigger than yours." But Kezia couldn't leave Lottie all by
herself. She ran back to her. By this time Lottie was very red in the
face and breathing heavily.
"Here, put your other foot over," said Kezia.
"Where?"
Lottie looked down at Kezia as if from a mountain height.
"Here where my hand is." Kezia patted the place.
"Oh, there do you mean!" Lottie gave a deep sigh and put the second foot
over.
"Now--sort of turn round and sit down and slide," said Kezia.
"But there's nothing to sit down on, Kezia," said Lottie.
She managed it at last, and once it was over she shook herself and began
to beam.
"I'm getting better at climbing over stiles, aren't I, Kezia?"
Lottie's was a very hopeful nature.
The pink and the blue sunbonnet followed Isabel's bright red sunbonnet
up that sliding, slipping hill. At the top they paused to decide where
to go and to have a good stare at who was there already. Seen from
behind, standing against the skyline, gesticulating largely with their
spades, they looked like minute puzzled explorers.
The whole family of Samuel Josephs was there already with their
lady-help, who sat on a camp-stool and kept order with a whistle that
she wore tied round her neck, and a small cane with which she directed
operations. The Samuel Josephs never played by themselves or managed
their own game. If they did, it ended in the boys pouring water down
the girls' necks or the girls trying to put little black crabs into the
boys' pockets. So Mrs. S. J. and the poor lady-help drew up what she
called a "brogramme" every morning to keep them "abused and out of
bischief." It was all competitions or races or round games. Everything
began with a piercing blast of the lady-help's whistle and ended with
another. There were even prizes--large, rather dirty paper parcels which
the lady-help with a sour little smile drew out of a bulging string
kit. The Samuel Josephs fought fearfully for the prizes and cheated and
pinched one another's arms--they were all expert pinchers. The only time
the Burnell children ever played with them Kezia had got a prize,
and when she undid three bits of paper she found a very small rusty
button-hook. She couldn't understand why they made such a fuss....
But they never played with the Samuel Josephs now or even went to their
parties. The Samuel Josephs were always giving children's parties at
the Bay and there was always the same food. A big washhand basin of
very brown fruit-salad, buns cut into four and a washhand jug full of
something the lady-help called "Limonadear." And you went away in the
evening with half the frill torn off your frock or something spilled all
down the front of your open-work pinafore, leaving the Samuel Josephs
leaping like savages on their lawn. No! They were too awful.
On the other side of the beach, close down to the water, two little
boys, their knickers rolled up, twinkled like spiders. One was digging,
the other pattered in and out of the water, filling a small bucket. They
were the Trout boys, Pip and Rags. But Pip was so busy digging and Rags
was so busy helping that they didn't see their little cousins until they
were quite close.
"Look!" said Pip. "Look what I've discovered." And he showed them an old
wet, squashed-looking boot. The three little girls stared.
"Whatever are you going to do with it?" asked Kezia.
"Keep it, of course!" Pip was very scornful. "It's a find--see?"
Yes, Kezia saw that. All the same....
"There's lots of things buried in the sand," explained Pip. "They get
chucked up from wrecks. Treasure. Why--you might find--"
"But why does Rags have to keep on pouring water in?" asked Lottie.
"Oh, that's to moisten it," said Pip, "to make the work a bit easier.
Keep it up, Rags."
And good little Rags ran up and down, pouring in the water that turned
brown like cocoa.
"Here, shall I show you what I found yesterday?" said Pip mysteriously,
and he stuck his spade into the sand. "Promise not to tell."
They promised.
"Say, cross my heart straight dinkum."
The little girls said it.
Pip took something out of his pocket, rubbed it a long time on the front
of his jersey, then breathed on it and rubbed it again.
"Now turn round!" he ordered.
They turned round.
"All look the same way! Keep still! Now!"
And his hand opened; he held up to the light something that flashed,
that winked, that was a most lovely green.
"It's a nemeral," said Pip solemnly.
"Is it really, Pip?" Even Isabel was impressed.
The lovely green thing seemed to dance in Pip's fingers. Aunt Beryl had
a nemeral in a ring, but it was a very small one. This one was as big as
a star and far more beautiful.
Chapter 1.V.
As the morning lengthened whole parties appeared over the sand-hills
and came down on the beach to bathe. It was understood that at eleven
o'clock the women and children of the summer colony had the sea to
themselves. First the women undressed, pulled on their bathing dresses
and covered their heads in hideous caps like sponge bags; then the
children were unbuttoned. The beach was strewn with little heaps of
clothes and shoes; the big summer hats, with stones on them to keep them
from blowing away, looked like immense shells. It was strange that even
the sea seemed to sound differently when all those leaping, laughing
figures ran into the waves. Old Mrs. Fairfield, in a lilac cotton dress
and a black hat tied under the chin, gathered her little brood and got
them ready. The little Trout boys whipped their shirts over their heads,
and away the five sped, while their grandma sat with one hand in her
knitting-bag ready to draw out the ball of wool when she was satisfied
they were safely in.
The firm compact little girls were not half so brave as the tender,
delicate-looking little boys. Pip and Rags, shivering, crouching down,
slapping the water, never hesitated. But Isabel, who could swim twelve
strokes, and Kezia, who could nearly swim eight, only followed on the
strict understanding they were not to be splashed. As for Lottie, she
didn't follow at all. She liked to be left to go in her own way,
please. And that way was to sit down at the edge of the water, her legs
straight, her knees pressed together, and to make vague motions with her
arms as if she expected to be wafted out to sea. But when a bigger wave
than usual, an old whiskery one, came lolloping along in her direction,
she scrambled to her feet with a face of horror and flew up the beach
again.
"Here, mother, keep those for me, will you?"
Two rings and a thin gold chain were dropped into Mrs Fairfield's lap.
"Yes, dear. But aren't you going to bathe here?"
"No-o," Beryl drawled. She sounded vague. "I'm undressing farther along.
I'm going to bathe with Mrs. Harry Kember."
"Very well." But Mrs. Fairfield's lips set. She disapproved of Mrs Harry
Kember. Beryl knew it.
Poor old mother, she smiled, as she skimmed over the stones. Poor old
mother! Old! Oh, what joy, what bliss it was to be young....
"You look very pleased," said Mrs. Harry Kember. She sat hunched up on
the stones, her arms round her knees, smoking.
"It's such a lovely day," said Beryl, smiling down at her.
"Oh my dear!" Mrs. Harry Kember's voice sounded as though she knew
better than that. But then her voice always sounded as though she
knew something better about you than you did yourself. She was a long,
strange-looking woman with narrow hands and feet. Her face, too, was
long and narrow and exhausted-looking; even her fair curled fringe
looked burnt out and withered. She was the only woman at the Bay who
smoked, and she smoked incessantly, keeping the cigarette between her
lips while she talked, and only taking it out when the ash was so long
you could not understand why it did not fall. When she was not playing
bridge--she played bridge every day of her life--she spent her time
lying in the full glare of the sun. She could stand any amount of
it; she never had enough. All the same, it did not seem to warm her.
Parched, withered, cold, she lay stretched on the stones like a piece
of tossed-up driftwood. The women at the Bay thought she was very, very
fast. Her lack of vanity, her slang, the way she treated men as though
she was one of them, and the fact that she didn't care twopence about
her house and called the servant Gladys "Glad-eyes," was disgraceful.
Standing on the veranda steps Mrs. Kember would call in her indifferent,
tired voice, "I say, Glad-eyes, you might heave me a handkerchief if
I've got one, will you?" And Glad-eyes, a red bow in her hair instead of
a cap, and white shoes, came running with an impudent smile. It was an
absolute scandal! True, she had no children, and her husband... Here the
voices were always raised; they became fervent. How can he have married
her? How can he, how can he? It must have been money, of course, but
even then!
Mrs. Kember's husband was at least ten years younger than she was, and
so incredibly handsome that he looked like a mask or a most perfect
illustration in an American novel rather than a man. Black hair, dark
blue eyes, red lips, a slow sleepy smile, a fine tennis player, a
perfect dancer, and with it all a mystery. Harry Kember was like a man
walking in his sleep. Men couldn't stand him, they couldn't get a word
out of the chap; he ignored his wife just as she ignored him. How did
he live? Of course there were stories, but such stories! They simply
couldn't be told. The women he'd been seen with, the places he'd been
seen in... but nothing was ever certain, nothing definite. Some of the
women at the Bay privately thought he'd commit a murder one day. Yes,
even while they talked to Mrs. Kember and took in the awful concoction
she was wearing, they saw her, stretched as she lay on the beach; but
cold, bloody, and still with a cigarette stuck in the corner of her
mouth.
Mrs. Kember rose, yawned, unsnapped her belt buckle, and tugged at the
tape of her blouse. And Beryl stepped out of her skirt and shed her
jersey, and stood up in her short white petticoat, and her camisole with
ribbon bows on the shoulders.
"Mercy on us," said Mrs. Harry Kember, "what a little beauty you are!"
"Don't!" said Beryl softly; but, drawing off one stocking and then the
other, she felt a little beauty.
"My dear--why not?" said Mrs. Harry Kember, stamping on her own
petticoat. Really--her underclothes! A pair of blue cotton knickers and
a linen bodice that reminded one somehow of a pillow-case... "And you
don't wear stays, do you?" She touched Beryl's waist, and Beryl sprang
away with a small affected cry. Then "Never!" she said firmly.
"Lucky little creature," sighed Mrs. Kember, unfastening her own.
Beryl turned her back and began the complicated movements of some one
who is trying to take off her clothes and to pull on her bathing-dress
all at one and the same time.
"Oh, my dear--don't mind me," said Mrs. Harry Kember. "Why be shy? I
shan't eat you. I shan't be shocked like those other ninnies." And she
gave her strange neighing laugh and grimaced at the other women.
But Beryl was shy. She never undressed in front of anybody. Was that
silly? Mrs. Harry Kember made her feel it was silly, even something
to be ashamed of. Why be shy indeed! She glanced quickly at her friend
standing so boldly in her torn chemise and lighting a fresh cigarette;
and a quick, bold, evil feeling started up in her breast. Laughing
recklessly, she drew on the limp, sandy-feeling bathing-dress that was
not quite dry and fastened the twisted buttons.
"That's better," said Mrs. Harry Kember. They began to go down the
beach together. "Really, it's a sin for you to wear clothes, my dear.
Somebody's got to tell you some day."
The water was quite warm. It was that marvellous transparent blue,
flecked with silver, but the sand at the bottom looked gold; when you
kicked with your toes there rose a little puff of gold-dust. Now the
waves just reached her breast. Beryl stood, her arms outstretched,
gazing out, and as each wave came she gave the slightest little jump, so
that it seemed it was the wave which lifted her so gently.
"I believe in pretty girls having a good time," said Mrs. Harry Kember.
"Why not? Don't you make a mistake, my dear. Enjoy yourself." And
suddenly she turned turtle, disappeared, and swam away quickly, quickly,
like a rat. Then she flicked round and began swimming back. She was
going to say something else. Beryl felt that she was being poisoned
by this cold woman, but she longed to hear. But oh, how strange, how
horrible! As Mrs. Harry Kember came up close she looked, in her black
waterproof bathing-cap, with her sleepy face lifted above the water,
just her chin touching, like a horrible caricature of her husband.
Chapter 1.VI.
In a steamer chair, under a manuka tree that grew in the middle of
the front grass patch, Linda Burnell dreamed the morning away. She did
nothing. She looked up at the dark, close, dry leaves of the manuka, at
the chinks of blue between, and now and again a tiny yellowish flower
dropped on her. Pretty--yes, if you held one of those flowers on the
palm of your hand and looked at it closely, it was an exquisite small
thing. Each pale yellow petal shone as if each was the careful work of a
loving hand. The tiny tongue in the centre gave it the shape of a bell.
And when you turned it over the outside was a deep bronze colour. But
as soon as they flowered, they fell and were scattered. You brushed them
off your frock as you talked; the horrid little things got caught in
one's hair. Why, then, flower at all? Who takes the trouble--or the
joy--to make all these things that are wasted, wasted... It was uncanny.
On the grass beside her, lying between two pillows, was the boy. Sound
asleep he lay, his head turned away from his mother. His fine dark hair
looked more like a shadow than like real hair, but his ear was a bright,
deep coral. Linda clasped her hands above her head and crossed her feet.
It was very pleasant to know that all these bungalows were empty, that
everybody was down on the beach, out of sight, out of hearing. She had
the garden to herself; she was alone.
Dazzling white the picotees shone; the golden-eyed marigold glittered;
the nasturtiums wreathed the veranda poles in green and gold flame. If
only one had time to look at these flowers long enough, time to get over
the sense of novelty and strangeness, time to know them! But as soon as
one paused to part the petals, to discover the under-side of the leaf,
along came Life and one was swept away. And, lying in her cane chair,
Linda felt so light; she felt like a leaf. Along came Life like a wind
and she was seized and shaken; she had to go. Oh dear, would it always
be so? Was there no escape?
... Now she sat on the veranda of their Tasmanian home, leaning against
her father's knee. And he promised, "As soon as you and I are old
enough, Linny, we'll cut off somewhere, we'll escape. Two boys together.
I have a fancy I'd like to sail up a river in China." Linda saw that
river, very wide, covered with little rafts and boats. She saw the
yellow hats of the boatmen and she heard their high, thin voices as they
called...
"Yes, papa."
But just then a very broad young man with bright ginger hair walked
slowly past their house, and slowly, solemnly even, uncovered. Linda's
father pulled her ear teasingly, in the way he had.
"Linny's beau," he whispered.
"Oh, papa, fancy being married to Stanley Burnell!"
Well, she was married to him. And what was more she loved him. Not
the Stanley whom every one saw, not the everyday one; but a timid,
sensitive, innocent Stanley who knelt down every night to say his
prayers, and who longed to be good. Stanley was simple. If he believed
in people--as he believed in her, for instance--it was with his whole
heart. He could not be disloyal; he could not tell a lie. And how
terribly he suffered if he thought any one--she--was not being dead
straight, dead sincere with him! "This is too subtle for me!" He flung
out the words, but his open, quivering, distraught look was like the
look of a trapped beast.
But the trouble was--here Linda felt almost inclined to laugh, though
Heaven knows it was no laughing matter--she saw her Stanley so seldom.
There were glimpses, moments, breathing spaces of calm, but all the rest
of the time it was like living in a house that couldn't be cured of the
habit of catching on fire, on a ship that got wrecked every day. And it
was always Stanley who was in the thick of the danger. Her whole time
was spent in rescuing him, and restoring him, and calming him down, and
listening to his story. And what was left of her time was spent in the
dread of having children.
Linda frowned; she sat up quickly in her steamer chair and clasped her
ankles. Yes, that was her real grudge against life; that was what she
could not understand. That was the question she asked and asked, and
listened in vain for the answer. It was all very well to say it was
the common lot of women to bear children. It wasn't true. She, for one,
could prove that wrong. She was broken, made weak, her courage was gone,
through child-bearing. And what made it doubly hard to bear was, she did
not love her children. It was useless pretending. Even if she had had
the strength she never would have nursed and played with the little
girls. No, it was as though a cold breath had chilled her through and
through on each of those awful journeys; she had no warmth left to give
them. As to the boy--well, thank Heaven, mother had taken him; he was
mother's, or Beryl's, or anybody's who wanted him. She had hardly
held him in her arms. She was so indifferent about him that as he lay
there... Linda glanced down.
The boy had turned over. He lay facing her, and he was no longer asleep.
His dark-blue, baby eyes were open; he looked as though he was peeping
at his mother. And suddenly his face dimpled; it broke into a wide,
toothless smile, a perfect beam, no less.
"I'm here!" that happy smile seemed to say. "Why don't you like me?"
There was something so quaint, so unexpected about that smile that Linda
smiled herself. But she checked herself and said to the boy coldly, "I
don't like babies."
"Don't like babies?" The boy couldn't believe her. "Don't like me?" He
waved his arms foolishly at his mother.
Linda dropped off her chair on to the grass.
"Why do you keep on smiling?" she said severely. "If you knew what I was
thinking about, you wouldn't."
But he only squeezed up his eyes, slyly, and rolled his head on the
pillow. He didn't believe a word she said.
"We know all about that!" smiled the boy.
Linda was so astonished at the confidence of this little creature... Ah
no, be sincere. That was not what she felt; it was something far
different, it was something so new, so... The tears danced in her eyes;
she breathed in a small whisper to the boy, "Hallo, my funny!"
But by now the boy had forgotten his mother. He was serious again.
Something pink, something soft waved in front of him. He made a grab at
it and it immediately disappeared. But when he lay back, another, like
the first, appeared. This time he determined to catch it. He made a
tremendous effort and rolled right over.
Chapter 1.VII.
The tide was out; the beach was deserted; lazily flopped the warm sea.
The sun beat down, beat down hot and fiery on the fine sand, baking
the grey and blue and black and white-veined pebbles. It sucked up the
little drop of water that lay in the hollow of the curved shells; it
bleached the pink convolvulus that threaded through and through
the sand-hills. Nothing seemed to move but the small sand-hoppers.
Pit-pit-pit! They were never still.
Over there on the weed-hung rocks that looked at low tide like shaggy
beasts come down to the water to drink, the sunlight seemed to spin like
a silver coin dropped into each of the small rock pools. They danced,
they quivered, and minute ripples laved the porous shores. Looking
down, bending over, each pool was like a lake with pink and blue houses
clustered on the shores; and oh! the vast mountainous country behind
those houses--the ravines, the passes, the dangerous creeks and
fearful tracks that led to the water's edge. Underneath waved the
sea-forest--pink thread-like trees, velvet anemones, and orange
berry-spotted weeds. Now a stone on the bottom moved, rocked, and there
was a glimpse of a black feeler; now a thread-like creature wavered by
and was lost. Something was happening to the pink, waving trees; they
were changing to a cold moonlight blue. And now there sounded the
faintest "plop." Who made that sound? What was going on down there? And
how strong, how damp the seaweed smelt in the hot sun...
The green blinds were drawn in the bungalows of the summer colony. Over
the verandas, prone on the paddock, flung over the fences, there were
exhausted-looking bathing-dresses and rough striped towels. Each back
window seemed to have a pair of sand-shoes on the sill and some lumps of
rock or a bucket or a collection of pawa shells. The bush quivered in
a haze of heat; the sandy road was empty except for the Trouts' dog
Snooker, who lay stretched in the very middle of it. His blue eye
was turned up, his legs stuck out stiffly, and he gave an occasional
desperate-sounding puff, as much as to say he had decided to make an end
of it and was only waiting for some kind cart to come along.
"What are you looking at, my grandma? Why do you keep stopping and sort
of staring at the wall?"
Kezia and her grandmother were taking their siesta together. The little
girl, wearing only her short drawers and her under-bodice, her arms and
legs bare, lay on one of the puffed-up pillows of her grandma's bed, and
the old woman, in a white ruffled dressing-gown, sat in a rocker at the
window, with a long piece of pink knitting in her lap. This room
that they shared, like the other rooms of the bungalow, was of light
varnished wood and the floor was bare. The furniture was of the
shabbiest, the simplest. The dressing-table, for instance, was a
packing-case in a sprigged muslin petticoat, and the mirror above was
very strange; it was as though a little piece of forked lightning was
imprisoned in it. On the table there stood a jar of sea-pinks, pressed
so tightly together they looked more like a velvet pincushion, and a
special shell which Kezia had given her grandma for a pin-tray, and
another even more special which she had thought would make a very nice
place for a watch to curl up in.
"Tell me, grandma," said Kezia.
The old woman sighed, whipped the wool twice round her thumb, and drew
the bone needle through. She was casting on.
"I was thinking of your Uncle William, darling," she said quietly.
"My Australian Uncle William?" said Kezia. She had another.
"Yes, of course."
"The one I never saw?"
"That was the one."
"Well, what happened to him?" Kezia knew perfectly well, but she wanted
to be told again.
"He went to the mines, and he got a sunstroke there and died," said old
Mrs. Fairfield.
Kezia blinked and considered the picture again... a little man fallen
over like a tin soldier by the side of a big black hole.
"Does it make you sad to think about him, grandma?" She hated her
grandma to be sad.
It was the old woman's turn to consider. Did it make her sad? To look
back, back. To stare down the years, as Kezia had seen her doing. To
look after them as a woman does, long after they were out of sight. Did
it make her sad? No, life was like that.
"No, Kezia."
"But why?" asked Kezia. She lifted one bare arm and began to draw things
in the air. "Why did Uncle William have to die? He wasn't old."
Mrs. Fairfield began counting the stitches in threes. "It just
happened," she said in an absorbed voice.
"Does everybody have to die?" asked Kezia.
"Everybody!"
"Me?" Kezia sounded fearfully incredulous.
"Some day, my darling."
"But, grandma." Kezia waved her left leg and waggled the toes. They felt
sandy. "What if I just won't?"
The old woman sighed again and drew a long thread from the ball.
"We're not asked, Kezia," she said sadly. "It happens to all of us
sooner or later."
Kezia lay still thinking this over. She didn't want to die. It meant she
would have to leave here, leave everywhere, for ever, leave--leave her
grandma. She rolled over quickly.
"Grandma," she said in a startled voice.
"What, my pet!"
"You're not to die." Kezia was very decided.
"Ah, Kezia"--her grandma looked up and smiled and shook her head--"don't
let's talk about it."
"But you're not to. You couldn't leave me. You couldn't not be there."
This was awful. "Promise me you won't ever do it, grandma," pleaded
Kezia.
The old woman went on knitting.
"Promise me! Say never!"
But still her grandma was silent.
Kezia rolled off her bed; she couldn't bear it any longer, and lightly
she leapt on to her grandma's knees, clasped her hands round the old
woman's throat and began kissing her, under the chin, behind the ear,
and blowing down her neck.
"Say never... say never... say never--" She gasped between the kisses. And
then she began, very softly and lightly, to tickle her grandma.
"Kezia!" The old woman dropped her knitting. She swung back in the
rocker. She began to tickle Kezia. "Say never, say never, say never,"
gurgled Kezia, while they lay there laughing in each other's arms.
"Come, that's enough, my squirrel! That's enough, my wild pony!" said
old Mrs. Fairfield, setting her cap straight. "Pick up my knitting."
Both of them had forgotten what the "never" was about.
Chapter 1.VIII.
The sun was still full on the garden when the back door of the Burnells'
shut with a bang, and a very gay figure walked down the path to the
gate. It was Alice, the servant-girl, dressed for her afternoon out. She
wore a white cotton dress with such large red spots on it and so many
that they made you shudder, white shoes and a leghorn turned up under
the brim with poppies. Of course she wore gloves, white ones, stained
at the fastenings with iron-mould, and in one hand she carried a very
dashed-looking sunshade which she referred to as her "perishall."
Beryl, sitting in the window, fanning her freshly-washed hair, thought
she had never seen such a guy. If Alice had only blacked her face with
a piece of cork before she started out, the picture would have been
complete. And where did a girl like that go to in a place like this? The
heart-shaped Fijian fan beat scornfully at that lovely bright mane. She
supposed Alice had picked up some horrible common larrikin and they'd
go off into the bush together. Pity to have made herself so conspicuous;
they'd have hard work to hide with Alice in that rig-out.
But no, Beryl was unfair. Alice was going to tea with Mrs Stubbs, who'd
sent her an "invite" by the little boy who called for orders. She had
taken ever such a liking to Mrs. Stubbs ever since the first time she
went to the shop to get something for her mosquitoes.
"Dear heart!" Mrs. Stubbs had clapped her hand to her side. "I never
seen anyone so eaten. You might have been attacked by canningbals."
Alice did wish there'd been a bit of life on the road though. Made her
feel so queer, having nobody behind her. Made her feel all weak in the
spine. She couldn't believe that some one wasn't watching her. And yet
it was silly to turn round; it gave you away. She pulled up her gloves,
hummed to herself and said to the distant gum-tree, "Shan't be long
now." But that was hardly company.
Mrs. Stubbs's shop was perched on a little hillock just off the road. It
had two big windows for eyes, a broad veranda for a hat, and the sign on
the roof, scrawled MRS. STUBBS'S, was like a little card stuck rakishly
in the hat crown.
On the veranda there hung a long string of bathing-dresses, clinging
together as though they'd just been rescued from the sea rather than
waiting to go in, and beside them there hung a cluster of sandshoes so
extraordinarily mixed that to get at one pair you had to tear apart and
forcibly separate at least fifty. Even then it was the rarest thing
to find the left that belonged to the right. So many people had lost
patience and gone off with one shoe that fitted and one that was a
little too big... Mrs. Stubbs prided herself on keeping something
of everything. The two windows, arranged in the form of precarious
pyramids, were crammed so tight, piled so high, that it seemed only a
conjurer could prevent them from toppling over. In the left-hand corner
of one window, glued to the pane by four gelatine lozenges, there
was--and there had been from time immemorial--a notice.
LOST! HANSOME GOLE BROOCH SOLID GOLD ON OR NEAR BEACH REWARD OFFERED
Alice pressed open the door. The bell jangled, the red serge curtains
parted, and Mrs. Stubbs appeared. With her broad smile and the long
bacon knife in her hand, she looked like a friendly brigand. Alice was
welcomed so warmly that she found it quite difficult to keep up her
"manners." They consisted of persistent little coughs and hems, pulls at
her gloves, tweaks at her skirt, and a curious difficulty in seeing what
was set before her or understanding what was said.
Tea was laid on the parlour table--ham, sardines, a whole pound
of butter, and such a large johnny cake that it looked like an
advertisement for somebody's baking-powder. But the Primus stove roared
so loudly that it was useless to try to talk above it. Alice sat down
on the edge of a basket-chair while Mrs. Stubbs pumped the stove
still higher. Suddenly Mrs. Stubbs whipped the cushion off a chair and
disclosed a large brown-paper parcel.
"I've just had some new photers taken, my dear," she shouted cheerfully
to Alice. "Tell me what you think of them."
In a very dainty, refined way Alice wet her finger and put the tissue
back from the first one. Life! How many there were! There were three
dozzing at least. And she held it up to the light.
Mrs. Stubbs sat in an arm-chair, leaning very much to one side. There
was a look of mild astonishment on her large face, and well there might
be. For though the arm-chair stood on a carpet, to the left of it,
miraculously skirting the carpet-border, there was a dashing water-fall.
On her right stood a Grecian pillar with a giant fern-tree on either
side of it, and in the background towered a gaunt mountain, pale with
snow.
"It is a nice style, isn't it?" shouted Mrs. Stubbs; and Alice had
just screamed "Sweetly" when the roaring of the Primus stove died
down, fizzled out, ceased, and she said "Pretty" in a silence that was
frightening.
"Draw up your chair, my dear," said Mrs. Stubbs, beginning to pour out.
"Yes," she said thoughtfully, as she handed the tea, "but I don't care
about the size. I'm having an enlargemint. All very well for Christmas
cards, but I never was the one for small photers myself. You get no
comfort out of them. To say the truth, I find them dis'eartening."
Alice quite saw what she meant.
"Size," said Mrs. Stubbs. "Give me size. That was what my poor dear
husband was always saying. He couldn't stand anything small. Gave him
the creeps. And, strange as it may seem, my dear"--here Mrs. Stubbs
creaked and seemed to expand herself at the memory--"it was dropsy that
carried him off at the larst. Many's the time they drawn one and a half
pints from 'im at the 'ospital... It seemed like a judgmint."
Alice burned to know exactly what it was that was drawn from him. She
ventured, "I suppose it was water."
But Mrs. Stubbs fixed Alice with her eyes and replied meaningly, "It was
liquid, my dear."
Liquid! Alice jumped away from the word like a cat and came back to it,
nosing and wary.
"That's 'im!" said Mrs. Stubbs, and she pointed dramatically to the
life-size head and shoulders of a burly man with a dead white rose in
the buttonhole of his coat that made you think of a curl of cold mutting
fat. Just below, in silver letters on a red cardboard ground, were the
words, "Be not afraid, it is I."
"It's ever such a fine face," said Alice faintly.
The pale-blue bow on the top of Mrs. Stubbs's fair frizzy hair quivered.
She arched her plump neck. What a neck she had! It was bright pink where
it began and then it changed to warm apricot, and that faded to the
colour of a brown egg and then to a deep creamy.
"All the same, my dear," she said surprisingly, "freedom's best!" Her
soft, fat chuckle sounded like a purr. "Freedom's best," said Mrs.
Stubbs again.
Freedom! Alice gave a loud, silly little titter. She felt awkward. Her
mind flew back to her own kitching. Ever so queer! She wanted to be back
in it again.
Chapter 1.IX.
A strange company assembled in the Burnells' washhouse after tea. Round
the table there sat a bull, a rooster, a donkey that kept forgetting it
was a donkey, a sheep and a bee. The washhouse was the perfect place for
such a meeting because they could make as much noise as they liked, and
nobody ever interrupted. It was a small tin shed standing apart from the
bungalow. Against the wall there was a deep trough and in the corner a
copper with a basket of clothes-pegs on top of it. The little window,
spun over with cobwebs, had a piece of candle and a mouse-trap on the
dusty sill. There were clotheslines criss-crossed overhead and, hanging
from a peg on the wall, a very big, a huge, rusty horseshoe. The table
was in the middle with a form at either side.
"You can't be a bee, Kezia. A bee's not an animal. It's a ninseck."
"Oh, but I do want to be a bee frightfully," wailed Kezia... A tiny bee,
all yellow-furry, with striped legs. She drew her legs up under her and
leaned over the table. She felt she was a bee.
"A ninseck must be an animal," she said stoutly. "It makes a noise. It's
not like a fish."
"I'm a bull, I'm a bull!" cried Pip. And he gave such a tremendous
bellow--how did he make that noise?--that Lottie looked quite alarmed.
"I'll be a sheep," said little Rags. "A whole lot of sheep went past
this morning."
"How do you know?"
"Dad heard them. Baa!" He sounded like the little lamb that trots behind
and seems to wait to be carried.
"Cock-a-doodle-do!" shrilled Isabel. With her red cheeks and bright eyes
she looked like a rooster.
"What'll I be?" Lottie asked everybody, and she sat there smiling,
waiting for them to decide for her. It had to be an easy one.
"Be a donkey, Lottie." It was Kezia's suggestion. "Hee-haw! You can't
forget that."
"Hee-haw!" said Lottie solemnly. "When do I have to say it?"
"I'll explain, I'll explain," said the bull. It was he who had the
cards. He waved them round his head. "All be quiet! All listen!" And he
waited for them. "Look here, Lottie." He turned up a card. "It's got two
spots on it--see? Now, if you put that card in the middle and somebody
else has one with two spots as well, you say 'Hee-haw,' and the card's
yours."
"Mine?" Lottie was round-eyed. "To keep?"
"No, silly. Just for the game, see? Just while we're playing." The bull
was very cross with her.
"Oh, Lottie, you are a little silly," said the proud rooster.
Lottie looked at both of them. Then she hung her head; her lip quivered.
"I don't want to play," she whispered. The others glanced at one another
like conspirators. All of them knew what that meant. She would go away
and be discovered somewhere standing with her pinny thrown over her
head, in a corner, or against a wall, or even behind a chair.
"Yes, you do, Lottie. It's quite easy," said Kezia.
And Isabel, repentant, said exactly like a grown-up, "Watch me, Lottie,
and you'll soon learn."
"Cheer up, Lot," said Pip. "There, I know what I'll do. I'll give you
the first one. It's mine, really, but I'll give it to you. Here you
are." And he slammed the card down in front of Lottie.
Lottie revived at that. But now she was in another difficulty. "I
haven't got a hanky," she said; "I want one badly, too."
"Here, Lottie, you can use mine." Rags dipped into his sailor blouse and
brought up a very wet-looking one, knotted together. "Be very careful,"
he warned her. "Only use that corner. Don't undo it. I've got a little
starfish inside I'm going to try and tame."
"Oh, come on, you girls," said the bull. "And mind--you're not to look
at your cards. You've got to keep your hands under the table till I say
'Go.'"
Smack went the cards round the table. They tried with all their might to
see, but Pip was too quick for them. It was very exciting, sitting there
in the washhouse; it was all they could do not to burst into a little
chorus of animals before Pip had finished dealing.
"Now, Lottie, you begin."
Timidly Lottie stretched out a hand, took the top card off her pack, had
a good look at it--it was plain she was counting the spots--and put it
down.
"No, Lottie, you can't do that. You mustn't look first. You must turn it
the other way over."
"But then everybody will see it the same time as me," said Lottie.
The game proceeded. Mooe-ooo-er! The bull was terrible. He charged over
the table and seemed to eat the cards up.
Bss-ss! said the bee.
Cock-a-doodle-do! Isabel stood up in her excitement and moved her elbows
like wings.
Baa! Little Rags put down the King of Diamonds and Lottie put down the
one they called the King of Spain. She had hardly any cards left.
"Why don't you call out, Lottie?"
"I've forgotten what I am," said the donkey woefully.
"Well, change! Be a dog instead! Bow-wow!"
"Oh yes. That's much easier." Lottie smiled again. But when she and
Kezia both had a one Kezia waited on purpose. The others made signs to
Lottie and pointed. Lottie turned very red; she looked bewildered, and
at last she said, "Hee-haw! Ke-zia."
"Ss! Wait a minute!" They were in the very thick of it when the bull
stopped them, holding up his hand. "What's that? What's that noise?"
"What noise? What do you mean?" asked the rooster.
"Ss! Shut up! Listen!" They were mouse-still. "I thought I heard a--a
sort of knocking," said the bull.
"What was it like?" asked the sheep faintly.
No answer.
The bee gave a shudder. "Whatever did we shut the door for?" she said
softly. Oh, why, why had they shut the door?
While they were playing, the day had faded; the gorgeous sunset had
blazed and died. And now the quick dark came racing over the sea, over
the sand-hills, up the paddock. You were frightened to look in the
corners of the washhouse, and yet you had to look with all your might.
And somewhere, far away, grandma was lighting a lamp. The blinds
were being pulled down; the kitchen fire leapt in the tins on the
mantelpiece.
"It would be awful now," said the bull, "if a spider was to fall from
the ceiling on to the table, wouldn't it?"
"Spiders don't fall from ceilings."
"Yes, they do. Our Min told us she'd seen a spider as big as a saucer,
with long hairs on it like a gooseberry."
Quickly all the little heads were jerked up; all the little bodies drew
together, pressed together.
"Why doesn't somebody come and call us?" cried the rooster.
Oh, those grown-ups, laughing and snug, sitting in the lamp-light,
drinking out of cups! They'd forgotten about them. No, not really
forgotten. That was what their smile meant. They had decided to leave
them there all by themselves.
Suddenly Lottie gave such a piercing scream that all of them jumped off
the forms, all of them screamed too. "A face--a face looking!" shrieked
Lottie.
It was true, it was real. Pressed against the window was a pale face,
black eyes, a black beard.
"Grandma! Mother! Somebody!"
But they had not got to the door, tumbling over one another, before it
opened for Uncle Jonathan. He had come to take the little boys home.
Chapter 1.X.
He had meant to be there before, but in the front garden he had come
upon Linda walking up and down the grass, stopping to pick off a dead
pink or give a top-heavy carnation something to lean against, or to take
a deep breath of something, and then walking on again, with her little
air of remoteness. Over her white frock she wore a yellow, pink-fringed
shawl from the Chinaman's shop.
"Hallo, Jonathan!" called Linda. And Jonathan whipped off his shabby
panama, pressed it against his breast, dropped on one knee, and kissed
Linda's hand.
"Greeting, my Fair One! Greeting, my Celestial Peach Blossom!" boomed
the bass voice gently. "Where are the other noble dames?"
"Beryl's out playing bridge and mother's giving the boy his bath... Have
you come to borrow something?"
The Trouts were for ever running out of things and sending across to the
Burnells' at the last moment.
But Jonathan only answered, "A little love, a little kindness;" and he
walked by his sister-in-law's side.
Linda dropped into Beryl's hammock under the manuka-tree, and Jonathan
stretched himself on the grass beside her, pulled a long stalk and began
chewing it. They knew each other well. The voices of children cried from
the other gardens. A fisherman's light cart shook along the sandy road,
and from far away they heard a dog barking; it was muffled as though the
dog had its head in a sack. If you listened you could just hear the soft
swish of the sea at full tide sweeping the pebbles. The sun was sinking.
"And so you go back to the office on Monday, do you, Jonathan?" asked
Linda.
"On Monday the cage door opens and clangs to upon the victim for another
eleven months and a week," answered Jonathan.
Linda swung a little. "It must be awful," she said slowly.
"Would ye have me laugh, my fair sister? Would ye have me weep?"
Linda was so accustomed to Jonathan's way of talking that she paid no
attention to it.
"I suppose," she said vaguely, "one gets used to it. One gets used to
anything."
"Does one? Hum!" The "Hum" was so deep it seemed to boom from underneath
the ground. "I wonder how it's done," brooded Jonathan; "I've never
managed it."
Looking at him as he lay there, Linda thought again how attractive he
was. It was strange to think that he was only an ordinary clerk, that
Stanley earned twice as much money as he. What was the matter with
Jonathan? He had no ambition; she supposed that was it. And yet one felt
he was gifted, exceptional. He was passionately fond of music; every
spare penny he had went on books. He was always full of new ideas,
schemes, plans. But nothing came of it all. The new fire blazed in
Jonathan; you almost heard it roaring softly as he explained, described
and dilated on the new thing; but a moment later it had fallen in and
there was nothing but ashes, and Jonathan went about with a look like
hunger in his black eyes. At these times he exaggerated his absurd
manner of speaking, and he sang in church--he was the leader of the
choir--with such fearful dramatic intensity that the meanest hymn put on
an unholy splendour.
"It seems to me just as imbecile, just as infernal, to have to go to the
office on Monday," said Jonathan, "as it always has done and always will
do. To spend all the best years of one's life sitting on a stool from
nine to five, scratching in somebody's ledger! It's a queer use to make
of one's... one and only life, isn't it? Or do I fondly dream?" He
rolled over on the grass and looked up at Linda. "Tell me, what is the
difference between my life and that of an ordinary prisoner. The only
difference I can see is that I put myself in jail and nobody's ever
going to let me out. That's a more intolerable situation than the other.
For if I'd been--pushed in, against my will--kicking, even--once the
door was locked, or at any rate in five years or so, I might have
accepted the fact and begun to take an interest in the flight of
flies or counting the warder's steps along the passage with particular
attention to variations of tread and so on. But as it is, I'm like an
insect that's flown into a room of its own accord. I dash against the
walls, dash against the windows, flop against the ceiling, do everything
on God's earth, in fact, except fly out again. And all the while I'm
thinking, like that moth, or that butterfly, or whatever it is, 'The
shortness of life! The shortness of life!' I've only one night or
one day, and there's this vast dangerous garden, waiting out there,
undiscovered, unexplored."
"But, if you feel like that, why--" began Linda quickly.
"Ah!" cried Jonathan. And that "ah!" was somehow almost exultant.
"There you have me. Why? Why indeed? There's the maddening, mysterious
question. Why don't I fly out again? There's the window or the door or
whatever it was I came in by. It's not hopelessly shut--is it? Why don't
I find it and be off? Answer me that, little sister." But he gave her no
time to answer.
"I'm exactly like that insect again. For some reason"--Jonathan paused
between the words--"it's not allowed, it's forbidden, it's against the
insect law, to stop banging and flopping and crawling up the pane even
for an instant. Why don't I leave the office? Why don't I seriously
consider, this moment, for instance, what it is that prevents me
leaving? It's not as though I'm tremendously tied. I've two boys to
provide for, but, after all, they're boys. I could cut off to sea, or
get a job up-country, or--" Suddenly he smiled at Linda and said in
a changed voice, as if he were confiding a secret, "Weak... weak. No
stamina. No anchor. No guiding principle, let us call it." But then the
dark velvety voice rolled out:
"Would ye hear the story
How it unfolds itself... "
and they were silent.
The sun had set. In the western sky there were great masses of
crushed-up rose-coloured clouds. Broad beams of light shone through the
clouds and beyond them as if they would cover the whole sky. Overhead
the blue faded; it turned a pale gold, and the bush outlined against
it gleamed dark and brilliant like metal. Sometimes when those beams of
light show in the sky they are very awful. They remind you that up there
sits Jehovah, the jealous God, the Almighty, Whose eye is upon you, ever
watchful, never weary. You remember that at His coming the whole earth
will shake into one ruined graveyard; the cold, bright angels will drive
you this way and that, and there will be no time to explain what could
be explained so simply... But to-night it seemed to Linda there was
something infinitely joyful and loving in those silver beams. And now
no sound came from the sea. It breathed softly as if it would draw that
tender, joyful beauty into its own bosom.
"It's all wrong, it's all wrong," came the shadowy voice of Jonathan.
"It's not the scene, it's not the setting for... three stools, three
desks, three inkpots and a wire blind."
Linda knew that he would never change, but she said, "Is it too late,
even now?"
"I'm old--I'm old," intoned Jonathan. He bent towards her, he passed his
hand over his head. "Look!" His black hair was speckled all over with
silver, like the breast plumage of a black fowl.
Linda was surprised. She had no idea that he was grey. And yet, as he
stood up beside her and sighed and stretched, she saw him, for the first
time, not resolute, not gallant, not careless, but touched already with
age. He looked very tall on the darkening grass, and the thought crossed
her mind, "He is like a weed."
Jonathan stooped again and kissed her fingers.
"Heaven reward thy sweet patience, lady mine," he murmured. "I must go
seek those heirs to my fame and fortune... " He was gone.
Chapter 1.XI.
Light shone in the windows of the bungalow. Two square patches of gold
fell upon the pinks and the peaked marigolds. Florrie, the cat, came
out on to the veranda, and sat on the top step, her white paws close
together, her tail curled round. She looked content, as though she had
been waiting for this moment all day.
"Thank goodness, it's getting late," said Florrie. "Thank goodness, the
long day is over." Her greengage eyes opened.
Presently there sounded the rumble of the coach, the crack of Kelly's
whip. It came near enough for one to hear the voices of the men from
town, talking loudly together. It stopped at the Burnells' gate.
Stanley was half-way up the path before he saw Linda. "Is that you,
darling?"
"Yes, Stanley."
He leapt across the flower-bed and seized her in his arms. She was
enfolded in that familiar, eager, strong embrace.
"Forgive me, darling, forgive me," stammered Stanley, and he put his
hand under her chin and lifted her face to him.
"Forgive you?" smiled Linda. "But whatever for?"
"Good God! You can't have forgotten," cried Stanley Burnell. "I've
thought of nothing else all day. I've had the hell of a day. I made up
my mind to dash out and telegraph, and then I thought the wire mightn't
reach you before I did. I've been in tortures, Linda."
"But, Stanley," said Linda, "what must I forgive you for?"
"Linda!"--Stanley was very hurt--"didn't you realize--you must have
realized--I went away without saying good-bye to you this morning? I
can't imagine how I can have done such a thing. My confounded temper, of
course. But--well"--and he sighed and took her in his arms again--"I've
suffered for it enough to-day."
"What's that you've got in your hand?" asked Linda. "New gloves? Let me
see."
"Oh, just a cheap pair of wash-leather ones," said Stanley humbly. "I
noticed Bell was wearing some in the coach this morning, so, as I
was passing the shop, I dashed in and got myself a pair. What are you
smiling at? You don't think it was wrong of me, do you?"
"On the con-trary, darling," said Linda, "I think it was most sensible."
She pulled one of the large, pale gloves on her own fingers and looked
at her hand, turning it this way and that. She was still smiling.
Stanley wanted to say, "I was thinking of you the whole time I bought
them." It was true, but for some reason he couldn't say it. "Let's go
in," said he.
Chapter 1.XII.
Why does one feel so different at night? Why is it so exciting to be
awake when everybody else is asleep? Late--it is very late! And yet
every moment you feel more and more wakeful, as though you were slowly,
almost with every breath, waking up into a new, wonderful, far more
thrilling and exciting world than the daylight one. And what is this
queer sensation that you're a conspirator? Lightly, stealthily you move
about your room. You take something off the dressing-table and put it
down again without a sound. And everything, even the bed-post, knows
you, responds, shares your secret...
You're not very fond of your room by day. You never think about it.
You're in and out, the door opens and slams, the cupboard creaks. You
sit down on the side of your bed, change your shoes and dash out again.
A dive down to the glass, two pins in your hair, powder your nose and
off again. But now--it's suddenly dear to you. It's a darling little
funny room. It's yours. Oh, what a joy it is to own things! Mine--my
own!
"My very own for ever?"
"Yes." Their lips met.
No, of course, that had nothing to do with it. That was all nonsense
and rubbish. But, in spite of herself, Beryl saw so plainly two people
standing in the middle of her room. Her arms were round his neck; he
held her. And now he whispered, "My beauty, my little beauty!"
She jumped off her bed, ran over to the window and kneeled on the
window-seat, with her elbows on the sill. But the beautiful night, the
garden, every bush, every leaf, even the white palings, even the stars,
were conspirators too. So bright was the moon that the flowers were
bright as by day; the shadow of the nasturtiums, exquisite lily-like
leaves and wide-open flowers, lay across the silvery veranda. The
manuka-tree, bent by the southerly winds, was like a bird on one leg
stretching out a wing.
But when Beryl looked at the bush, it seemed to her the bush was sad.
"We are dumb trees, reaching up in the night, imploring we know not
what," said the sorrowful bush.
It is true when you are by yourself and you think about life, it is
always sad. All that excitement and so on has a way of suddenly leaving
you, and it's as though, in the silence, somebody called your name, and
you heard your name for the first time. "Beryl!"
"Yes, I'm here. I'm Beryl. Who wants me?"
"Beryl!"
"Let me come."
It is lonely living by oneself. Of course, there are relations, friends,
heaps of them; but that's not what she means. She wants some one who
will find the Beryl they none of them know, who will expect her to be
that Beryl always. She wants a lover.
"Take me away from all these other people, my love. Let us go far away.
Let us live our life, all new, all ours, from the very beginning. Let us
make our fire. Let us sit down to eat together. Let us have long talks
at night."
And the thought was almost, "Save me, my love. Save me!"
... "Oh, go on! Don't be a prude, my dear. You enjoy yourself while
you're young. That's my advice." And a high rush of silly laughter
joined Mrs. Harry Kember's loud, indifferent neigh.
You see, it's so frightfully difficult when you've nobody. You're so
at the mercy of things. You can't just be rude. And you've always this
horror of seeming inexperienced and stuffy like the other ninnies at the
Bay. And--and it's fascinating to know you've power over people. Yes,
that is fascinating...
Oh why, oh why doesn't "he" come soon?
If I go on living here, thought Beryl, anything may happen to me.
"But how do you know he is coming at all?" mocked a small voice within
her.
But Beryl dismissed it. She couldn't be left. Other people, perhaps, but
not she. It wasn't possible to think that Beryl Fairfield never married,
that lovely fascinating girl.
"Do you remember Beryl Fairfield?"
"Remember her! As if I could forget her! It was one summer at the
Bay that I saw her. She was standing on the beach in a blue"--no,
pink--"muslin frock, holding on a big cream"--no, black--"straw hat. But
it's years ago now."
"She's as lovely as ever, more so if anything."
Beryl smiled, bit her lip, and gazed over the garden. As she gazed, she
saw somebody, a man, leave the road, step along the paddock beside their
palings as if he was coming straight towards her. Her heart beat. Who
was it? Who could it be? It couldn't be a burglar, certainly not a
burglar, for he was smoking and he strolled lightly. Beryl's heart
leapt; it seemed to turn right over, and then to stop. She recognized
him.
"Good evening, Miss Beryl," said the voice softly.
"Good evening."
"Won't you come for a little walk?" it drawled.
Come for a walk--at that time of night! "I couldn't. Everybody's in bed.
Everybody's asleep."
"Oh," said the voice lightly, and a whiff of sweet smoke reached her.
"What does everybody matter? Do come! It's such a fine night. There's
not a soul about."
Beryl shook her head. But already something stirred in her, something
reared its head.
The voice said, "Frightened?" It mocked, "Poor little girl!"
"Not in the least," said she. As she spoke that weak thing within her
seemed to uncoil, to grow suddenly tremendously strong; she longed to
go!
And just as if this was quite understood by the other, the voice said,
gently and softly, but finally, "Come along!"
Beryl stepped over her low window, crossed the veranda, ran down the
grass to the gate. He was there before her.
"That's right," breathed the voice, and it teased, "You're not
frightened, are you? You're not frightened?"
She was; now she was here she was terrified, and it seemed to her
everything was different. The moonlight stared and glittered; the
shadows were like bars of iron. Her hand was taken.
"Not in the least," she said lightly. "Why should I be?"
Her hand was pulled gently, tugged. She held back.
"No, I'm not coming any farther," said Beryl.
"Oh, rot!" Harry Kember didn't believe her. "Come along! We'll just go
as far as that fuchsia bush. Come along!"
The fuchsia bush was tall. It fell over the fence in a shower. There was
a little pit of darkness beneath.
"No, really, I don't want to," said Beryl.
For a moment Harry Kember didn't answer. Then he came close to her,
turned to her, smiled and said quickly, "Don't be silly! Don't be
silly!"
His smile was something she'd never seen before. Was he drunk? That
bright, blind, terrifying smile froze her with horror. What was she
doing? How had she got here? the stern garden asked her as the gate
pushed open, and quick as a cat Harry Kember came through and snatched
her to him.
"Cold little devil! Cold little devil!" said the hateful voice.
But Beryl was strong. She slipped, ducked, wrenched free.
"You are vile, vile," said she.
"Then why in God's name did you come?" stammered Harry Kember.
Nobody answered him.
Chapter 1.XIII.
A cloud, small, serene, floated across the moon. In that moment of
darkness the sea sounded deep, troubled. Then the cloud sailed away,
and the sound of the sea was a vague murmur, as though it waked out of a
dark dream. All was still.
</CHAPTER>
| I The whole of Crescents Bay was hidden under a white sea mist, the beach barely distinguishable from the waters beyond. The sun had not yet risen but over the horizon a flock of sheep came into view. A shepherd and his companion, Wag the dog, led them. The shepherd was a tall older gentleman with a yellow walking stick and a pipe. He whistled as Wag corralled the bleating heard onto a sandy road and toward a gigantic gum tree near Mrs. Stubb's show. Squinting his eyes against the rising sun, the shepherd marveled at how quickly the mist on the sea receded each morning. " leaping, glittering sea was so bright it made one's eyes ache to look at it" . The Burnell's cat, Florrie, appeared. She spotted Wag and gave a disgruntled shiver. He ignored her but thought her a silly young thing. A bird flew above the shepherd's head, past the fisherman's hut and the little house owned by the milkmaid, Leila, and her Gran. The sheep began to stray but Wag rounded them up again and led them toward Daylight Cove. The shepherd trailed after and out of sight. II Moments later the back door of a nearby bungalow opened and Stanley Burnell appeared. He ran to the sea and dived in. It was his usual custom each morning, to be the fist in the water. A voice called out to him and Stanley was very displeased to see the head of Jonathan Trout bobbing in the water nearby. He had beaten Stanley into the water. Annoyed that Jonathan refused to stick to his own part of the sea, Stanly struck out, swimming as far away as he could. Jonathan kept up with him and began to tell Stanley about a strange dream he had had the night before. "What was the matter with the man? This mania for conversation irritated Stanley beyond words" . Stanley interrupted Jonathan and said he was on a tight schedule that morning and didn't have time to talk. Unperturbed, Jonathan glided away. Stanley left the water and returned to the beach and his bungalow feeling he had been cheated out of his morning bathe. Jonathan stayed it the water and watched Stanley leave. Overall he was fond of the other man but thought Stanley often overdid things, making everything into a job. Jonathan preferred an uncomplicated existence. He floated on his back, letting the waves take him to shore. Once on the beach Jonathan began to shiver, his body ached all over. He had stayed too long in the water and felt his bathe had been ruined too. III Beryl Fairchild was alone in the living room when her brother -in-law, Stanley Burnell sat down at the table and announced that he had twenty-five minutes before his coach arrived to take him into town for work. Beryl poured his tea but forgot to add sugar. Stanley looked up at his sister-in-law skeptically and asked for sugar. Instead of putting it in his tea as she normally would, Beryl pushed the sugar bowl toward him. Perplexed by her behavior, Stanley asked if there was anything wrong. Beryl said there wasn't. Her mother, Mrs. Fairfield, came in carrying Stanley's youngest child, a baby boy. Stanley's three little girls, Isabel, Kezia, and Lottie followed her. They carried the porridge tray and set it down carefully on the table. Mrs. Fairfield reported that the baby had only woken up once in the night and declared that today was a perfect day. The sea sounded through the open windows, the sun shone on the table and everything sparkled and glistened. Mrs. Fairfield felt deeply contented. Stanley interrupted her thoughts by asking for a slice of bread. Then Beryl scolded Kezia for playing with her food and Stanley couldn't find his walking stick and blamed everyone but himself for losing it. Even Alice, the maid, came out of the kitchen to look for it and Stanley accused her of using it to poke the fire. Still searching Stanley made his way into his bedroom where his wife, Linda, was lying down. He told her the children had taken his stick. Upset by Linda's vague response and lack of interest, he did not say goodbye to her as punishment for not paying attention to him. Beryl called out to him that the coach had arrived, and Stanley went to meet it. As he boarded he thought of the heartlessness of woman and how they took it for granted that men would provide for them but they didn't have the decency to keep his walking stick from disappearing. Beryl called out a farewell to him and out of politeness Stanley returned the gesture. He caught Beryl's little skip of joy as she ran into the house. Back at the bungalow, Beryl announce with glee "He's gone!" and the house came to life with renewed feminine energy. "Oh, the relief, the difference it made to have the man out of the house. Their voices changed as they called to one another; they sounded warm and loving... There was no man to disturb them; the whole perfect day was theirs" . Alice, caught up in the moment, pretended the teapot she was washing was a man and cheerfully drowned him in the sink. IV Little Lottie called out to her older sisters, Isabel and Kezia, and asked them to wait for her. Lottie always had trouble climbing over the stile on their way to the beach. Kezia kindly went back and helped Lottie over. The three sisters stood at the top of a sand hill and discussed who they should play with today. The Samuel Josephs were an unruly bunch of young boys and girls who were looked after by a servant who made up games to keep them occupied. The servant wore a whistle around her neck and used it to call the Samuel Josephs together or to start or stop a game. Their playtime was always fiercely competitive and the only game the three Burnell sisters had ever played with them Kezia had won. Her prize had been an old rusted boot hook. Since then the Burnells no longer associated with the Samuel Josephs, finding their prizes and manners lacking. Thankfully the sisters spotted their cousins, Jonathan Trout's sons, Pip and Rags, on the other side of the beach. They made their way toward them and saw that Pip was digging in the sand for treasure and Rags was pouring water onto the sand to keep it moist for his brother. Pip proudly showed the girls a boot he discovered while Rags dutifully ran back forth between his brother and the sea with his water bucket. Perhaps sensing his cousins were less than impressed with the boot, Pip took from his pocket a large green stone and held it out to them, making them promise they would never tell anyone that he had it. The beautiful stone was in fact an emerald, or, as Pip called it, a "nemeral." It seemed to dance in Pip's hand. V It was understood among the residents of Crescent Bay that the beaches at eleven o'clock belonged to the women and children. First the women undressed and put on bathing dresses and then the children were unbuttoned and let loose. The beach was strewn with piles of clothes and hats. Mrs. Fairfield gathered her grandchildren and watched as her grandsons, Pip and Rags, whipped off their shirts and ran into the sea. Her little granddaughters were not as brave. Isabel and Kezia swam out carefully toward the boys but little Lottie remained on the beach and sat by the edge of the water. She made vague gestures with her hands as if she expected the sea to take her away at anytime but whenever there was a large wave she would scamper up the beach, away from the water. Beryl arrived and asked her mother to hold her jewelry while she bathed. She said she was going to bathe with Mrs. Harry Kember and ignored her mother's disapproving look. She made her way to a different section of the beach and soon saw her friend lounging on the rocks and smoking. Mrs. Harry Kember was the only woman in Crescent Bay who smoked and was very unpopular among the other women as a result. She was a strange looking woman with a narrow hands and feet, her face was thin and always looked exhausted. Mrs. Harry Kember spent her days lying in the sun and playing cards but it was her lack of vanity and her tendencies to act more like a man than a woman that really set the women of Crescent Bay against her. Beryl thought herself the exception but when Mrs. Harry Kember undressed before her even Beryl could not excuse the state of the other woman's underclothes. Then there was Mr. Harry Kember himself, who was so handsome his face looked painted on. No one understood their marriage. She was almost ten years older than him and childless. Mr. Harry Kember was a quiet fellow that did not get on well with other men. Rumor had it that he was unfaithful to his wife and perhaps that was why he ignored her strange behavior and sloppy housekeeping. Their marriage was a mystery to everyone else but Beryl suspected there was more to them than the obvious. Crescent Bay; however, had long ago determined that one day Mr. Harry Kember would murder his wife and they would find her lifeless body still with a cigarette in her mouth. Mrs. Harry Kember was very much alive today and was just telling Beryl what a beauty she had become. Beryl began the complicated process of taking off her clothes while at the same time putting on her bathing dress. Mrs. Harry Kember simply dropped her outerwear without a hint of self-consciousness and encouraged Beryl to do the same. Feeling devilish, Beryl took off her clothes in from of Mrs. Harry Kember and put on her bathing dress. "Really, it's a sin for you to wear clothes, my dear. Somebody's got to tell you some day" , Mrs. Harry Kember said, complementing Beryl's beauty. They walked together into the warm water and Beryl stretched her arms out luxuriously, allowing the waves to lift her up. Mrs. Harry Kember swam beside her all the while encouraging her not settle for just one man, to have a good time while she was young. Beryl felt sinful listening to such talk but also very curious. Mrs. Harry Kember swam closer and for one horrible moment Beryl thought the other woman with her black bathing cap, looked like a disturbing caricature of her husband, Mr. Harry Kember. VI Linda Burnell lounged in a steamer chair under the manuka tree in the front yard of the bungalow. She sat and contemplated the life of the flowers that fell from the tree. She thought of how beautifully intricate they were and how easy it was to disregard them as simply something that should be kept off the lawn. "Who takes the trouble - or the joy- to make all these things that are wasted...." . She thought it uncanny. On the lawn beside her, situated between two pillows, was the baby. He was asleep and Linda had the bungalow all to herself. She wished she had time to look and truly appreciate each flower but she knew Life would come along and interrupt her day. It always did and there was no escape. Years before she was married she remembered sitting on the veranda with her father. They had been very close. He always said they would run away one day, just the two of them but then Stanley Burnell walked by, slowly and solemnly, his ginger hair aglow. Her father teased her and called Stanley her beau. At the time Linda couldn't have imagined being married especially to someone like Stanley Burnell but married they were. She loved him, most of the time. She didn't love the Stanley everyone else saw. Her Stanley was timid, he said is prayers in earnest and believed in others with his whole heart and was never disloyal but she so rarely saw her Stanley anymore. She only had glimpses of him every so often. Usually he was in the thick of whatever daily drama was taking place and she spent all of her time calming him down, listening to his side of the story, and rescuing him from himself. "And what was left of her was spent in the dread of having children" . It was her greatest grudge against life. She knew it was a woman's lot to birth children, to carry them for months and then bring them whole into the world but afterward she found that she did not love her children in the way that she should. The burden of too many births had weakened her and she had nothing left to give the girls. Thankfully her mother had taken the boy and as far as Linda was concerned, she could have him. Linda was so indifferent about the new baby -- she had hardly ever held him in her arms. Glancing down she was surprised to see the boy was awake. His dark-blue eyes were fixed on her and he suddenly smiled, his dimples showing. His happy smile called out to his mother for love, and she found herself returning the smile. She sat down on the grass beside him. She said that she didn't like babies and if he knew what she was thinking about him he would stop smiling but the boy only turned his head and squinted his eyes. Linda was astonished by the baby's confidence, his demand of her love that she felt something inside of her shift, making room, and a tear slide down her face. "Hello my funny" she said but the boy had already forgotten about his mother. His eyes were fixated on the tree's falling flowers, and he shot his hand out to grab one. VII The sun warmed the beach as the day wore on. Only the sand hoppers moved. The rock pools rippled in the ocean breeze, a smaller world unknown to man. The scent of seaweed was strong under the hot lazy sun. The blinds were drawn over the windows of the bungalow. Kezia and her grandmother were taking their afternoon siesta. Her grandmother's room was a small with shabby furniture. Kezia lay on the bed in her underclothes and was watching her grandmother knit in a chair on the other side of the room. Kezia asked her grandmother why she was staring at the wall. Her grandmother hesitated, winding the wool around her fingers before answering that she was thinking of her son, William. Kezia knew him as the uncle from Australia that she had never met. Grandmother said he went there to work in the mines but got sunstroke and died. Kezia asked her grandmother if she was sad and Mrs. Fairfield took a moment to consider the question. It had happened so long ago but she carried her love for her son still as women are meant to do but time had helped to heal that wound. She told Kezia, no, she was not sad. Kezia asked why Uncle William died? He wasn't old. Her grandmother said that everyone dies eventually. Kezia was upset and said she would not die. Her grandmother said again that everyone dies and they have no choice in the matter. To this Kezia grew deeply upset and forbad her grandmother from dying, ever. "You couldn't leave me. You couldn't not be there... Promise me you won't ever do it, grandma" . The old woman was silent. Kezia cried out to her "say never" but still her grandmother would not speak. So Kezia climbed onto her grandmothers' lap and tickled and kissed the old woman until she promised not to die. They hugged and laughed and soon forgot their melancholy. VIII The backdoor of the Burnell's slammed shut and a flamboyantly dressed Alice walked down the path and away from the bungalow. Beryl watched Alice leave and thought the maid was on her way to meet some local man. She thought they'd have a hard time of hiding a pregnancy on Alice, especially dressed like that. Alice was not meeting in a man. Mrs. Stubbs had invited her to tea; she had taken a liking to the maid. Alice wore a white cotton dress dotted with red spots, white shoes, and gloves. She completed the ensemble with a frayed umbrella. No one was on the road to greet her and she felt very silly walking alone. Alice thought someone must be watching her but she didn't want to turn around to check. Mrs. Stubb's shop was perched on a hill up the road. Bathing outfits hung on the veranda near a box of mismatched sandshoes. A very old sign in the window display read: "LOST! HANSOME GOLE BROOCH SOLID GOLD ON OR NEAR BEACH REWARD OFFERED" . Alice opened the door to the shop and a bell sounded as she entered. Mrs. Stubbs appeared and the two women went to the parlor and Alice tried to remember her manners. Tea was laid out and their conversation turned to a set of new photographs that Mrs. Stubbs had acquired. Alice thought they captured the essence of life but only said they were pretty when asked. Mrs. Stubbs was a collector of photographs; behind her were various images of a waterfalls, a Grecian pillar, and a white snowcapped mountain. Mrs. Stubbs said she was going to have the photos enlarged just as her husband would have done had he still be alive. He had died of dropsy years before. Mrs. Stubbs had a life-like bust made of her husband. Alice said he had a pleasant face and Mrs. Stubbs agreed but said although she loved her husband, she preferred her freedom. Alice had a sudden urge to return to her kitchen at the bungalow. IX A small company of animals gathered in the Burnell's washhouse to play cards. There was a bull, a rooster, a sheep, and a bee. The washhouse was set apart form the bungalow and the animals could make as much noise as they wanted without being interrupted. Pip was the bull, Isabel the rooster, Rags the sheep, Kezia the bee who had won her argument that bees were indeed animals because they made noise. The animals bellowed, clucked, bleated, and buzzed in preparation for their game. Lottie had the habit of forgetting what animal she was part way through their games and Kezia suggested she be a donkey because "hee-haw" was easy to say. Lottie was content with the choice and Pip explained the card game to her, which involved each of the players putting down a card at the same time. If two or more players put down matching cards the first to cry out their animals sound won the round. Pip was getting irritated with Lottie who was confused by the rules. Her bottom lip quivered and the other children rushed to comfort her before Lottie grew truly upset and would run away and be found sometime later crying in a corner with her dress pulled up over her head. To pacify her, Pip gave Lottie the first card off the top of the deck and Rags gave her a corner of his handkerchief, its other half was occupied by a starfish he was trying to tame. Pip handed out all of the cards and the game began. The bull charged the table in his excitement; the rooster flapped her wings and crowed while the bee buzzed. At one point Rags and Lottie put down two Kings at the same time but poor little Lottie forgot what animal she was and Rags won the hand. Later Kezia and Lottie put down the same cards and the other children silently pointed this out to Lottie until she cried out "hee-haw!" Just then Pip thought he heard a knocking on the door and told the other children to be quiet. They sat still, listening and for the first time noticed they that night was coming on. Suddenly scared the children gathered close together and were worried a spider might fall on them from the ceiling. "Why doesn't someone come and get us," cried Isabel; then Lottie screamed and they all jumped. A face appeared in the window. Tumbling over one another they raced out the door and into Uncle Jonathan who had come to take the boys home with him. X Jonathan Trout had meant to take his sons home earlier in the day, but he had stopped to talk to his sister-in-law, Linda Burnell, who was in the garden. They had known each other a long time and Linda was no longer impressed with Jonathan's poetic introductions but still thought him handsome. He dropped to one knee in greeting and kissed her fingertips. She was used to this behavior and they settled in for a long conversation, she on a hammock and he on the grass. Linda asked if he was going back to work on Monday to which Jonathan replied that the cage door would shut on him at the end of the weekend and there was no chance of escape. Linda thought it must be awful to be trapped in an office for so many hours and yet she felt one could adapt to the situation but not Jonathan. Jonathan had a wandering spirit and although he very ambitious and talented, he would rather spend his time reading poetry than working as a clerk and had never amounted to anything. Stanley made more money than he did and Linda wondered what was the matter with him? He was gifted but nothing ever came of it. She thought of him leading their church choir and of his hungry eyes that never seemed to rest and yet he made no effort to be anything more than what he was. Jonathan said it was ridiculous to have to spend one's life sitting on someone else's stool, working on someone else's ledger nine to five for years. "It is a queer use to make of one's...one and only life, isn't it?" and yet he felt like an insect who had wandered into a room from the outside of its own accord and spent the rest of its life banging against the window panes but never going through the open door and back out into the unexplored garden. He felt he was a prisoner in his own life and asked Linda why he didn't attempt to escape? Answering his own question, Jonathan said, "for some reason... it's not allowed, it's forbidden..." to quit his job and take off somewhere, out to sea perhaps. His two boys were his responsibility to provide for, but he could move up country and try his luck; but then, his voice faded and the light behind his eyes was gone. He had no stamina for such adventures anymore. "Would you hear the story. How it unfolds itself..." . The sun had set as broad beams of light covered the sky and Linda thought of Jehovah the jealous God who would one day return to earth and there would be no time left for explanations. The sea was silent and in the diminishing light of the sun the sky rested above them. Linda suddenly noticed how old Jonathan was looking these days and as if to prove this point he showed her how his hair was going gray. She saw him for the first time as he truly was, not gallant or resolute at all but like a weed. Jonathan stooped down and kissed her before setting off to find "those heirs to my fame and fortune...and he was gone" . XI Two gold patches of light shone on the Burnell's veranda where Florrie, the cat, sat with her paws together and tail curled under. She was content. "Thank goodness, the long day is over" she said. A coach rumbled by, stopping at the front gate. Stanley got out and ran toward Linda who was still in the garden. He took her in his arms and lifted her chin, asking for forgiveness, but Linda had no idea what she was to forgive him for. Slightly exasperated with his wife, Stanley explained he deeply regretted not having said goodbye to her this morning and had been in agony all day because of it. She smiled up at him and tugged at a pair of new gloves that he had bought himself earlier in the day. He said they were cheap pair but he had seen another man wearing them and bought himself a pair. He asked if she thought it was wrong of him to buy himself and she said "on the con-trary, darling" . Linda put them on and playfully modeled them for him. Stanley wanted to tell her he had been thinking of her when he bought them but he swallowed his words and ushered her inside the bungalow. XII Beryl thought the world a different place at night. It was getting late and yet she felt more alive with each passing hour. With every breath she thought she were "waking up into a new, wonderful, far more thrilling and exciting world than the daylight one" as if she and the night were conspirators sharing a secret. Even her room felt more alive and she found she enjoyed it more at nighttime. During the day it was a transitional place where she went when she needed to change clothes or powder her nose but at night it was dear to her and everything in it belonged to her. For a moment Beryl thought she saw a vision of herself and man in her room holding one another and kissing. She rushed to the window seat and sat down with her elbows on the sill, gazing outward. The moon shone so brightly that the flowers were illuminated as if it were day. The tress, the leaves, even the sad little bushes were all apart of her nightly conspiracy. Beryl felt suddenly sad looking at the bushes that reached skyward but would never be trees. "It is true when you are by yourself and you think about life, it is always sad" as if all of the excitement of the day has waned and only silence remains. Then a voice would sound and call Beryl's name as if for the first time, crying for her to let it in. She was lonely, always surrounded by family but truly alone. She wanted to belong to someone else, to find the Beryl that no one else knew or could understand. She wanted to become the Beryl she always suspected she was, a lover. "Save me my love. Save me!" The thought of Mrs. Harry Kember came to mind and her suggestion that Beryl enjoy herself with men while she was young. Even if she wanted to Beryl was at the mercy of her family's whims and societal norms. She felt she was such a "nobody" but was fascinated by Mrs. Harry Kember's suggestions. She wished her "somebody" would come soon to save her but a little voice deep inside of Beryl doubted this would ever happen. She refused to listen to the little voice: others may be left behind, but not her. Then she imagined the women of Crescent Bay speaking of her in years to come, saying she was still pretty, that there was still time for her to marry. Her heart sank. Then she saw a man walking nearby. He left the road and made his way through the Burnell garden and straight toward her. Beryl thought he couldn't be a burglar because he was smoking and strolling toward her in a leisurely way. It was Mr. Harry Kember. He invited her out for a walk. Beryl hesitated; it was late. Mr. Harry Kember insisted, saying there was no one else around. Something stirred within Beryl -- she wanted to go with him. "Don't be frightened," he said as she lowered herself out the window. The world was different now, the moonlight shone, the shadows like bars as Mr. Harry Kember took her hand in his. Now she was truly afraid. He tugged her hand gently but she struggled against him. "His terrifying smile froze her with horror" and he led her out the garden gate and drew her to him. Beryl slipped out of his embrace and told him he was vile. "Then why did you come?" He asked; nobody answered. A small cloud obscured the moon for a moment. The sea was troubled and then the cloud passed and it gave a mummer as if it woke from a bad dream. Then all was still.
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booksum | You are a highly sophisticated AI summarization expert with an exceptional ability to distill complex narratives into comprehensive yet concise summaries. Your task is to create a detailed summary that captures the essence of the given text, including key plot points, character developments, themes, and significant events. Ensure your summary is coherent, well-structured, and maintains the narrative flow of the original text. Aim for a summary length of approximately 1000-1500 words, adjusting as necessary based on the complexity and length of the source material. Your summary should be optimized for high precision, focusing on lexical overlap and semantic similarity with the original text. | Chapter: 146. THE AWARD OF ATONEMENT WITH THORGEIR CRAGGEIR
Hall of the Side and his son Kol, seven of them in all, rode west
over Loomnip's Sand, and so west over Amstacksheath, and did not
draw bridle till they came into Myrdale. There they asked
whether Thorgeir would be at home at Holt, and they were told
that they would find him at home.
The men asked whither Hall meant to go.
"Thither to Holt," he said.
They said they were sure he went on a good errand.
He stayed there some while and baited their horses, and after
that they mounted their horses and rode to Solheim about even,
and they were there that night, but the day after they rode to
Holt.
Thorgeir was out of doors, and Kari too, and their men, for they
had seen Hall's coming. He rode in a blue cape, and had a little
axe studded with silver in his hand; but when they came into the
"town," Thorgeir went to meet him, and helped him off his horse,
and both he and Kari kissed him and led him in between them into
the sittingroom, and sate him down in the high seat on the dais,
and they asked him tidings about many things.
He was there that night. Next morning Hall raised the question
of the atonement with Thorgeir, and told him what terms they
offered him; and he spoke about them with many fair and kindly
words.
"It may be well known to thee," answers Thorgeir, "that I said I
would take no atonement from the burners."
"That was quite another matter then," says Hall; "ye were then
wroth with fight, and, besides, ye have done great deeds in the
way of manslaying since."
"I daresay ye think so," says Thorgeir, "but what atonement do ye
offer to Kari?"
"A fitting atonement shall be offered him," says Hall, "if he
will take it."
Then Kari said, "I pray this of thee, Thorgeir, that thou wilt be
atoned, for thy lot cannot be better than good."
"Methinks," says Thorgeir, "it is ill done to take in atonement,
and sunder myself from thee, unless thou takest the same
atonement as I."
"I will not take any atonement," says Kari, "but yet I say that
we have avenged the burning; but my son, I say, is still
unavenged, and I mean to take that on myself alone, and see what
I can get done."
But Thorgeir would take no atonement before Kari said that he
would take it ill if he were not atoned. Then Thorgeir
handselled a truce to Flosi and his men, as a step to a meeting
for atonement; but Hall did the same on behalf of Flosi and the
sons of Sigfus.
But ere they parted, Thorgeir gave Hall a gold ring and a scarlet
cloak, but Kari gave him a silver brooch, and there were hung to
it four crosses of gold. Hall thanked them kindly for their
gifts, and rode away with the greatest honour. He did not draw
bridle till he came to Swinefell, and Flosi gave him a hearty
welcome. Hall told Flosi all about his errand and the talk he
had with Thorgeir, and also that Thorgeir would not take the
atonement till Kari told him he would quarrel with him if he did
not take it; but that Kari would take no atonement.
"There are few men like Kari," said Flosi, "and I would that my
mind were shapen altogether like his."
Hall and Kol stayed there some while, and afterwards they rode
west at the time agreed on to the meeting for atonement, and met
at Headbrink, as had been settled between them.
Then Thorgeir came to meet them from the west, and then they
talked over their atonement, and all went off as Hall had said.
Before the atonement, Thorgeir said that Kari should still have
the right to be at his house all the same if he chose.
"And neither side shall do the others any harm at my house; and I
will not have the trouble of gathering in the fines from each of
the burners; but my will is that Flosi alone shall be answerable
for them to me, but he must get them in from his followers. My
will also is that all that award which was made at the Thing
about the burning shall be kept and held to; and my will also is,
Flosi, that thou payest me up my third share in unclipped coin."
Flosi went quickly into all these terms.
Thorgeir neither gave up the banishment nor the outlawry.
Now Flosi and Hall rode home east, and then Hall said to Flosi,
"Keep this atonement well, son-in-law, both as to going abroad
and the pilgrimage to Rome (1), and the fines, and then thou wilt
be thought a brave man, though thou hast stumbled into this
misdeed, if thou fulfillest handsomely all that belongs to it."
Flosi said it should be so.
Now Hall rode home east, but Flosi rode home to Swinefell, and
was at home afterwards.
ENDNOTES:
(1) "Pilgrimage to Rome." This condition had not been mentioned
before.
147. KARI COMES TO BJORN'S HOUSE IN THE MARK
Thorgeir Craggeir rode home from the peace meeting, and Kari
asked whether the atonement had come about. Thorgeir said that
they now fully atoned.
Then Kari took his horse and was for riding away.
"Thou hast no need to ride away," says Thorgeir, "for it was laid
down in our atonement that thou shouldst be here as before if
thou chosest."
"It shall not be so, cousin, for as soon as ever I slay a man
they will be sure to say that thou wert in the plot with me, and
I will not have that! But I wish this, that thou wouldst let me
hand over in trust to thee my goods, and the estates of me and my
wife Helga Njal's daughter, and my three daughters, and then they
will not be seized by those adversaries of mine."
Thorgeir agreed to what Kari wished to ask of him, and then
Thorgeir had Kari's goods handed over to him in trust.
After that Kari rode away. He had two horses and his weapons and
outer clothing, and some ready money in gold and silver.
Now Kari rode west by Selialandsmull and up along Markfleet, and
so on up into Thorsmark. There there are three farms all called
"Mark." At the midmost farm dwelt that man whose name was Bjorn,
and his surname was Bjorn the White; he was the son of Kadal, the
son of Bjalfi. Bjalfi had been the freedman of Asgerda, the
mother of Njal and Holt-Thorir; Bjorn had to wife Valgerda, she
was the daughter of Thorbrand, the son of Asbrand. Her mother's
name was Gudlauga, she was a sister of Hamond, the father of
Gunnar of Lithend; she was given away to Bjorn for his money's
sake, and she did not love him much, but yet they had children
together, and they had enough and to spare in the house.
Bjorn was a man who was always boasting and praising himself, but
his housewife thought that bad. He was sharpsighted and swift of
foot.
Thither Kari turned in as a guest, and they took him by both
hands, and he was there that night. But the next morning Kari
said to Bjorn, "I wish thou wouldst take me in, for I should think
myself well housed here with thee. I would too that thou
shouldst be with me in my journeyings, as thou art a
sharpsighted, swiftfooted man, and besides I think thou wouldst
be dauntless in an onslaught."
"I can't blame myself," says Bjorn, "for wanting either sharp
sight, or dash, or any other bravery; but no doubt thou camest
hither because all thy other earths are stopped. Still at thy
prayer, Kari, I will not look on thee as an everyday man; I will
surely help thee in all that thou askest."
"The trolls take thy boasting and bragging," said his housewife,
"and thou shouldst not utter such stuff and silliness to any one
than thyself. As for me, I will willingly give Kari meat and
other good things, which I know will be useful to him; but on
Bjorn's hardihood, Kari, thou shalt not trust, for I am afraid
that thou wilt find it quite otherwise than he says."
"Often hast thou thrown blame upon me," said Bjorn, "but for all
that I put so much faith in myself that though I am put to the
trial I will never give way to any man; and the best proof of it
is this, that few try a tussle with me because none dare to do
so."
Kari was there some while in hiding, and few men knew of it.
Now men think that Kari must have ridden to the north country to
see Gudmund the Powerful, for Kari made Bjorn tell his neighbours
that he had met Kari on the beaten track, and that he rode thence
up into Godaland, and so north to Goose-sand, and then north to
Gudmund the Powerful at Modruvale.
So that story was spread over all the country.
148. OF FLOSI AND THE BURNERS
Now Flosi spoke to the burners, his companions, "It will no
longer serve our turn to sit still, for now we shall have to
think of our going abroad and of our fines, and of fulfilling our
atonement as bravely as we can, and let us take a passage
wherever it seems most likely to get one."
They bade him see to all that. Then Flosi said, "We will ride
east to Hornfirth; for there that ship is laid up, which is owned
by Eyjolf Nosy, a man from Drontheim, but he wants to take to him
a wife here, and he will not get the match made unless he settles
himself down here. We will buy the ship of him, for we shall
have many men and little freight. The ship is big and will take
us all."
Then they ceased talking of it.
But a little after they rode east, and did not stop before they
came east to Bjornness in Homfirth, and there they found Eyjolf,
for he had been there as a guest that winter.
There Flosi and his men had a hearty welcome, and they were there
the night. Next morning Flosi dealt with the captain for the
ship, but he said he would not be hard to sell the ship if he
could get what he wanted for her. Flosi asked him in what coin
he wished to be paid for her; the Easterling says he wanted land
for her near where he then was.
Then Eyjolf told Flosi all about his dealings with his host, and
Flosi says he will pull an oar with him, so that his marriage
bargain might be struck, and buy the ship of him afterwards. The
Easterling was glad at that. Flosi offered him land at
Borgarhaven, and now the Easterling holds on with his suit to his
host when Flosi was by, and Flosi threw in a helping word, so
that the bargain was brought about between them.
Flosi made over the land at Borgarhaven to the Easterling, but
shook hands on the bargain for the ship. He got also from the
Easterling twenty hundreds in wares, and that was also in their
bargain for the land.
Now Flosi rode back home. He was so beloved by his men that
their wares stood free to him to take either on loan or gift,
just as he chose.
He rode home to Swinefell, and was at home a while.
Then Flosi sent Kol Thorstein's son and Gunnar Lambi's son east
to Hornfirth. They were to be there by the ship, and to fit her
out, and set up booths, and sack the wares, and get all things
together that were needful.
Now we must tell of the sons of Sigfus how they say to Flosi that
they will ride west to Fleetlithe to set their houses in order,
and get wares thence, and such other things as they needed.
"Kari is not there now to be guarded against," they say, "if he
is in the north country as is said."
"I know not," answers Flosi, "as to such stories, whether there
be any truth in what is said of Kari's journeyings; methinks, we
have often been wrong in believing things which are nearer to
learn than this. My counsel is that ye go many of you together,
and part as little as ye can, and be as wary of yourselves as ye
may. Thou, too, Kettle of the Mark shalt bear in mind that dream
which I told thee, and which thou prayedst me to hide; for many
are those in thy company who were then called."
"All must come to pass as to man's life," said Kettle, "as it is
foredoomed; but good go with thee for thy warning."
Now they spoke no more about it.
After that the sons of Sigfus busked them and those men with them
who were meant to go with them. They were eight in all, and then
they rode away, and ere they went they kissed Flosi, and he bade
them farewell, and said he and some of those who rode away would
not see each other more. But they would not let themselves be
hindered. They rode now on their way, and Flosi said that they
should take his wares in Middleland, and carry them east, and do
the same in Landsbreach and Woodcombe.
After that they rode to Skaptartongue, and so on the fell, and
north of Eyjafell Jokul, and down into Godaland, and so down into
the woods in Thorsmark.
Bjorn of the Mark caught sight of them coming, and went at once
to meet them.
Then they greeted each other well, and the sons of Sigfus asked
after Kari Solmund's son.
"I met Kari," said Bjorn, "and that is now very long since; he
rode hence north on Goose-sand, and meant to go to Gudmund the
Powerful, and methought if he were here now, he would stand in
awe of you, for he seemed to be left all alone."
Grani Gunnar's son said, "He shall stand more in awe of us yet
before we have done with him, and he shall learn that as soon as
ever he comes within spearthrow of us; but as for us, we do not
fear him at all, now that he is all alone."
Kettle of the Mark bade them be still, and bring out no big
words.
Bjorn asked when they would be coming back.
"We shall stay near a week in Fleetlithe," said they, and so they
told him when they should be riding back on the fell.
With that they parted.
Now the sons of Sigfus rode to their homes, and their households
were glad to see them. They were there near a week.
Now Bjorn comes home and sees Kari, and told him all about the
doings of the sons of Sigfus, and their purpose.
Kari said he had shown in this great faithfulness to him, and
Bjorn said, "I should have thought there was more risk of any
other man's failing in that than of me if I had pledged my help
or care to any one."
"Ah," said his mistress, "but you may still be bad and yet not be
so bad as to be a traitor to thy master."
Kari stayed there six nights after that.
149. OF KARI AND BJORN
Now Kari talks to Bjorn and says, "We shall ride east across the
fell and down into Skaptartongue, and fare stealthily over
Flosi's country, for I have it in my mind to get myself carried
abroad east in Alftafirth."
"This is a very riskful journey," said Bjorn, "and few would have
the heart to take it save thou and I."
"If thou backest Kari ill," said his housewife, "know this, that
thou shalt never come afterwards into my bed, and my kinsmen
shall share our goods between us."
"It is likelier, mistress," said he, "that thou wilt have to look
out for something else than this if thou hast a mind to part from
me: for I will bear my own witness to myself what a champion and
daredevil I am when weapons clash."
Now they rode that day east on the fell to the north of the
Jokul, but never on the highway, and so down into Skaptartongue,
and above all the homesteads to Skaptarwater, and led their
horses into a dell, but they themselves were on the look-out, and
had so placed themselves that they could not be seen.
Then Kari said to Bjorn, "What shall we do now if they ride down
upon us here from the fell?"
"Are there not but two things to be done," said Bjorn; "one to
ride away from them north under the crags, and so let them ride
by us, or to wait and see if any of them lag behind, and then to
fall on them."
They talked much about this, and one while Bjorn was for flying
as fast as he could in every word he spoke, and at another for
staying and fighting it out with them, and Kari thought this the
greatest sport.
The sons of Sigfus rode from their homes the same day that they
had named to Bjorn. They came to the Mark and knocked at the
door there, and wanted to see Bjorn; but his mistress went to the
door and greeted them. They asked at once for Bjorn, and she
said he had ridden away down under Eyjafell, and so east under
Selialandsmull, and on east to Holt, "for he has some money to
call in thereabouts," she said.
They believed this, for they knew that Bjorn had money out at
call there.
After that they rode east on the fell, and did not stop before
they came to Skaptartongue, and so rode down along Skaptarwater,
and baited their horses just where Kari had thought they would.
Then they split their band. Kettle of the Mark rode east into
Middleland, and eight men with him, but the others laid them down
to sleep, and were not ware of aught until Kari and Bjorn came up
to them. A little ness ran out there into the river; into it
Kari went and took his stand, and bade Bjorn stand back to back
with him, and not to put himself too forward, "but give me all
the help thou canst."
"Well," says Bjorn, "I never had it in my head that any man
should stand before me as a shield, but still as things are thou
must have thy way; but for all that, with my gift of wit and my
swiftness I may be of some use to thee, and not harmless to our
foes."
Now they all rose up and ran at them, and Modolf Kettle's son was
quickest of them, and thrust at Kari with his spear. Kari had
his shield before him, and the blow fell on it, and the spear
stuck fast in the shield. Then Kari twists the shield so
smartly, that the spear snapped short off, and then he drew his
sword and smote at Modolf; but Modolf made a cut at him too, and
Kari's sword fell on Modolf's hilt, and glanced off it on to
Modolf's wrist, and took the arm off, and down it fell, and the
sword too. Then Kari's sword passed on into Modolf's side, and
between his ribs, and so Modolf fell down and was dead on the
spot.
Grani Gunnar's son snatched up a spear and hurled it at Kari, but
Kari thrust down his shield so hard that the point stood fast in
the ground, but with his left hand he caught the spear in the
air, and hurled it back at Grani, and caught up his shield again
at once with his left hand. Grani had his shield before him, and
the spear came on the shield and passed right through it, and
into Grani's thigh just below the small guts, and through the
limb, and so on, pinning him to the ground, and he could not get
rid of the spear before his fellows drew him off it, and carried
him away on their shields, and laid him down in a dell.
There was a man who ran up to Kari's side, and meant to cut off
his leg, but Bjorn cut off that man's arm, and sprang back again
behind Kari, and they could not do him any hurt. Kari made a
sweep at that same man with his sword, and cut him asunder at the
waist.
Then Lambi Sigfus' son rushed at Kari, and hewed at him with his
sword. Kari caught the blow sideways on his shield, and the
sword would not bite; then Kari thrust at Lambi with his sword
just below the breast, so that the point came out between his
shoulders, and that was his deathblow.
Then Thorstein Geirleif's son rushed at Kari, and thought to take
him in flank, but Kari caught sight of him, and swept at him with
his sword across the shoulders, so that the man was cleft asunder
at the chine.
A little while after he gave Gunnar of Skal, a good man and true,
his deathblow. As for Bjorn, he had wounded three men who had
tried to give Kari wounds, and yet he was never so far forward
that he was in the least danger, nor was he wounded, nor was
either of those companions hurt in that fight, but all those that
got away were wounded.
Then they ran for their horses, and galloped them off across
Skaptarwater as hard as they could, and they were so scared that
they stopped at no house, nor did they dare to stay and tell the
tidings anywhere.
Kari and Bjorn hooted and shouted after them as they galloped
off. So they rode east to Woodcombe, and did not draw bridle
till they came to Swinefell.
Flosi was not at home when they came thither, and that was why no
hue and cry was made thence after Kari.
This journey of theirs was thought most shameful by all men.
Kari rode to Skal, and gave notice of these manslayings as done
by his hand; there, too, he told them of the death of their
master and five others, and of Grani's wound, and said it would
be better to bear him to the house if he were to live.
Bjorn said he could not bear to slay him, though he said he was
worthy of death; but those who answered him said they were sure
few had bitten the dust before him. But Bjorn told them he had
it now in his power to make as many of the Sidemen as he chose
bite the dust; to which they said it was a bad look out.
Then Kari and Bjorn ride away from the house.
150. MORE OF KARI AND BJORN
Then Kari asked Bjorn, "What counsel shall we take now? Now I
will try what thy wit is worth."
"Dost thou think now," answered Bjorn, "that much lies on our
being as wise as ever we can?"
"Ay," said Kari, "I think so surely."
"Then our counsel is soon taken," says Bjorn. "We will cheat
them all as though they were giants; and now we will make as
though we were riding north on the fell, but as soon as ever we
are out of sight behind the brae, we will turn down along
Skaptarwater, and hide us there where we think handiest, so long
as the hue and cry is hottest, if they ride after us."
"So will we do," said Kari; "and this I had meant to do all
along."
"And so you may put it to the proof," said Bjorn, "that I am no
more of an every-day body in wit than I am in bravery."
Now Kari and his companion rode as they had purposed down along
Skaptarwater, till they came where a branch of the stream ran
away to the south-east; then they turned down along the middle
branch, and did not draw bridle till they came into Middleland,
and on that moor which is called Kringlemire; it has a stream of
lava all around it.
Then Kari said to Bjorn that he must watch their horses, and keep
a good look-out; "But as for me," he says, "I am heavy with
sleep."
So Bjorn watched the horses, but Kari lay him down, and slept but
a very short while ere Bjorn waked him up again, and he had
already led their horses together, and they were by their side.
Then Bjorn said to Kari, "Thou standest in much need of me
though! A man might easily have run away from thee if he had not
been as brave-hearted as I am; for now thy foes are riding upon
thee, and so thou must up and be doing."
Then Kari went away under a jutting crag, and Bjorn said, "Where
shall I stand now?"
"Well!" answers Kari, "now there are two choices before thee; one
is, that thou standest at my back and have my shield to cover
thyself with, if it can be of any use to thee; and the other is,
to get on thy horse and ride away as fast as thou canst."
"Nay," says Bjorn, "I will not do that, and there are many things
against it; first of all, may be, if I ride away, some spiteful
tongues might begin to say that I ran away from thee for faint-
heartedness; and another thing is, that I well know what game
they will think there is in me, and so they will ride after me,
two or three of them, and then I should be of no use or help to
thee after all. No! I will rather stand by thee and keep them
off so long as it is fated."
Then they had not long to wait ere horses with packsaddles were
driven by them over the moor, and with them went three men.
Then Kari said, "These men see us not."
"Then let us suffer them to ride on," said Bjorn.
So those three rode on past them; but the six others then came
riding right up to them, and they all leapt off their horses
straightway in a body, and turned on Kari and his companion.
First, Glum Hildir's son rushed at them, and thrust at Kari with
a spear; Kari turned short round on his heel, and Glum missed
him, and the blow fell against the rock. Bjorn sees that and
hewed at once the head off Glum's spear. Kari leant on one side
and smote at Glum with his sword, and the blow fell on his thigh,
and took off the limb high up in the thigh, and Glum died at
once.
Then Vebrand and Asbrand the sons of Thorbrand ran up to Kari,
but Kari flew at Vebrand and thrust his sword through him, but
afterwards he hewed off both of Asbrand's feet from under him.
In this bout both Kari and Bjorn were wounded.
Then Kettle of the Mark rushed at Kari, and thrust at him with
his spear. Kari threw up his leg, and the spear stuck in the
ground, and Kari leapt on the spear-shaft, and snapped it in
sunder.
Then Kari grasped Kettle in his arms, and Bjorn ran up just then,
and wanted to slay him, but Kari said, "Be still now. I will
give Kettle peace; for though it may be that Kettle's life is in
my power, still I will never slay him."
Kettle answers never a word, but rode away after his companions,
and told those the tidings who did not know them already.
They told also these tidings to the men of the Hundred, and they
gathered together at once a great force of armed men, and went
straightway up all the water-courses, and so far up on the fell
that they were three days in the chase; but after that they
turned back to their own homes, but Kettle and his companions
rode east to Swinefell, and told the tidings there.
Flosi was little stirred at what had befallen them, but said, "No
one could tell whether things would stop there, for there is no
man like Kari of all that are now left in Iceland."
151. OF KARI AND BJORN AND THORGEIR
Now we must tell of Bjorn and Kari that they ride down on the
Sand, and lead their horses under the banks where the wild oats
grew, and cut the oats for them, that they might not die of
hunger. Kari made such a near guess, that he rode away thence at
the very time that they gave over seeking for him. He rode by
night up through the Hundred, and after that he took to the fell;
and so on all the same way as they had followed when they rode
east, and did not stop till they came at Midmark.
Then Bjorn said to Kari, "Now shalt thou be my great friend
before my mistress, for she will never believe one word of what I
say; but everything lies on what you do, so now repay me for the
good following which I have yielded to thee."
"So it shall be; never fear," says Kari.
After that they ride up to the homestead, and then the mistress
asked them what tidings, and greeted them well.
"Our troubles have rather grown greater, old lass!"
She answered little, and laughed; and then the mistress went on
to ask, "How did Bjorn behave to thee, Kari?"
"Bare is back," he answers, "without brother behind it, and Bjorn
behaved well to me. He wounded three men, and, besides, he is
wounded himself, and he stuck as close to me as he could in
everything."
They were three nights there, and after that they rode to Holt to
Thorgeir, and told him alone these tidings, for those tidings had
not yet been heard there.
Thorgeir thanked him, and it was quite plain that he was glad at
what he heard. He asked Kari what now was undone which he meant
to do.
"I mean," answers Kari, "to kill Gunnar Lambi's son and Kol
Thorstein's son, if I can get a chance. Then we have slain
fifteen men, reckoning those five whom we two slew together. But
one boon I will now ask of thee."
Thorgeir said he would grant him whatever he asked.
"I wish, then, that thou wilt take under thy safeguard this man
whose name is Bjorn, and who has been in these slayings with me,
and that thou wilt change farms with him, and give him a farm
ready stocked here close by thee, and so hold thy hand over him
that no-vengeance may befall him; but all this will be an easy
matter for thee who art such a chief."
"So it shall be," says Thorgeir.
Then he gave Bjorn a ready-stocked farm at Asolfskal, but he took
the farm in the Mark into his own hands. Thorgeir flitted all
Bjorn's household stuff and goods to Asolfskal, and all his live
stock; and Thorgeir settled all Bjorn's quarrels for him, and he
was reconciled to them with a full atonement. So Bjorn was
thought to be much more of a man than he had been before.
Then Kari rode away, and did not draw rein till he came west to
Tongue to Asgrim Ellidagrim's son. He gave Kari a most hearty
welcome, and Kari told him of all the tidings that had happened
in these slayings.
Asgrim was well pleased at them, and asked what Kari meant to do
next.
"I mean," said Kari, "to fare abroad after them, and so dog their
footsteps and slay them, if I can get at them."
Asgrim said there was no man like him for bravery and hardihood.
He was there some nights, and after that he rode to Gizur the
White, and he took him by both hands. Kari stayed there some
while, and then he told Gizur that he wished to ride down to
Eyrar.
Gizur gave Kari a good sword at parting.
Now he rode down to Eyrar, and took him a passage with Kolbein
the Black; he was an Orkneyman and an old friend of Kari, and he
was the most forward and brisk of men.
He took Kari by both hands, and said that one fate should befall
both of them.
152. FLOSI GOES ABROAD
Now Flosi rides east to Hornfirth, and most of the men in his
Thing followed him, and bore his wares east, as well as all his
stores and baggage which he had to take with him.
After that they busked them for their voyage, and fitted out
their ship.
Now Flosi stayed by the ship until they were "boun." But as soon
as ever they got a fair wind they put out to sea. They had it
long passage and hard weather.
Then they quite lost their reckoning, and sailed on and on, and
all at once three great waves broke over their ship, one after
the other. Then Flosi said they must be near some land, and that
this was a ground-swell. A great mist was on them, but the wind
rose so that a great gale overtook them, and they scarce knew
where they were before they were dashed on shore at dead of
night, and the men were saved, but the ship was dashed all to
pieces, and they could not save their goods.
Then they had to look for shelter and warmth for themselves, and
the day after they went up on a height. The weather was then
good.
Flosi asked if any man knew this land, and there were two men of
their crew who had fared thither before, and said they were quite
sure they knew it, and, say they, "We are come to Hrossey in the
Orkneys."
"Then we might have made a better landing," said Flosi, "for Grim
and Helgi, Njal's sons, whom I slew, were both of them of Earl
Sigurd Hlodver's son's bodyguard."
Then they sought for a hiding-place and spread moss over
themselves, and so lay for a while, but not for long, ere Flosi
spoke and said, "We will not lie here any longer until the
landsmen are ware of us."
Then they arose, and took counsel, and then Flosi said to his
men, "We will go all of us and give ourselves up to the earl; for
there is naught else to do, and the earl has our lives at his
pleasure if he chooses to seek for them."
Then they all went away thence, and Flosi said that they must
tell no man any tidings of their voyage, or what manner of men
they were, before he told them to the earl.
Then they walked on until they met men who showed them to the
town, and then they went in before the earl, and Flosi and all
the others hailed him.
The earl asked what men they might be, and Flosi told his name,
and said out of what part of Iceland he was.
The earl had already heard of the burning, and so he knew the men
at once, and then the earl asked Flosi, "What hast thou to tell
me about Helgi Njal's son, my henchman."
"This," said Flosi, "that I hewed off his head."
"Take them all," said the earl.
Then that was done, and just then in came Thorstein, son of Hall
of the Side. Flosi had to wife Steinvora, Thorstein's sister.
Thorstein was one of Earl Sigurd's bodyguard, but when he saw
Flosi seized and held, he went in before the earl, and offered
for Flosi all the goods he had.
The earl was very wroth a long time, but at last the end of it
was, by the prayer of good men and true, joined to those of
Thorstein, for he was well backed by friends, and many threw in
their word with his, that the earl took an atonement from them,
and gave Flosi and all the rest of them peace. The earl held to
that custom of mighty men that Flosi took that place in his
service which Helgi Njal's son had filled.
So Flosi was made Earl Sigurd's henchman, and he soon won his way
to great love with the earl.
153. KARI GOES ABROAD
Those messmates Kari and Kolbein the Black put out to sea from
Eyrar half a month later than Flosi and his companions from
Hornfirth.
They got a fine fair wind, and were but a short time out. The
first land they made was the Fair Isle, it lies between Shetland
and the Orkneys. There that man whose name was David the White
took Kari into his house, and he told him all that he had heard
for certain about the doings of the burners. He was one of
Kari's greatest friends, and Kari stayed with him for the winter.
There they heard tidings from the west out of the Orkneys of all
that was done there.
Earl Sigurd bade to his feast at Yule Earl Gilli, his brother-
in-law, out of the Southern isles; he had to wife Swanlauga, Earl
Sigurd's sister; and then, too, came to see Earl Sigurd that king
from Ireland whose name was Sigtrygg. He was a son of Olaf
Rattle, but his mother's name was Kormlada; she was the fairest
of all women, and best gifted in everything that was not in her
own power, but it was the talk of men that she did all things ill
over which she had any power.
Brian was the name of the king who first had her to wife, but
they were then parted. He was the best-natured of all kings. He
had his seat in Connaught, in Ireland; his brother's name was
Wolf the Quarrelsome, the greatest champion and warrior; Brian's
foster-child's name was Kerthialfad. He was the son of King
Kylfi, who had many wars with King Brian, and fled away out of
the land before him, and became a hermit; but when King Brian
went south on a pilgrimage, then he met King Kylfi, and then they
were atoned, and King Brian took his son Kerthialfad to him, and
loved him more than his own sons. He was then full grown when
these things happened, and was the boldest of all men.
Duncan was the name of the first of King Brian's sons; the second
was Margad; the third, Takt, whom we call Tann, he was the
youngest of them; but the elder sons of King Brian were full
grown, and the briskest of men.
Kormlada was not the mother of King Brian's children, and so grim
was she against King Brian after their parting, that she would
gladly have him dead.
King Brian thrice forgave all his outlaws the same fault, but if
they misbehaved themselves oftener, then he let them be judged by
the law; and from this one may mark what a king he must have
been.
Kormlada egged on her son Sigtrygg very much to kill King Brian,
and she now sent him to Earl Sigurd to beg for help.
King Sigtrygg came before Yule to the Orkneys, and there, too,
came Earl Gilli, as was written before.
The men were so placed that King Sigtrygg sat in a high seat in
the middle, but on either side of the king sat one of the earls.
The men of King Sigtrygg and Earl Gilli sate on the inner side
away from him, but on the outer side away from Earl Sigurd, sate
Flosi and Thorstein, son of Hall of the Side, and the whole hall
was full.
Now King Sigtrygg and Earl Gilli wished to hear of these tidings
which had happened at the burning, and so, also, what had
befallen since.
Then Gunnar Lambi's son was got to tell the tale, and a stool was
set for him to sit upon.
154. GUNNAR LAMBI'S SON'S SLAYING
Just at that very time Kari and Kolbein and David the White came
to Hrossey unawares to all men. They went straightway up on
land, but a few men watched their ship.
Kari and his fellows went straight to the earl's homestead, and
came to the hall about drinking time.
It so happened that just then Gunnar was telling the story of the
burning, but they were listening to him meanwhile outside. This
was on Yule-day itself.
Now King Sigtrygg asked, "How did Skarphedinn bear the burning?"
"Well at first for a long time," said Gunnar, "but still the end
of it was that he wept." And so he went on giving an unfair
leaning in his story, but every now and then he laughed out loud.
Kari could not stand this, and then he ran in with his sword
drawn, and sang this song:
"Men of might, in battle eager,
Boast of burning Njal's abode,
Have the Princes heard how sturdy
Seahorse racers sought revenge?
Hath not since, on foemen holding
High the shield's broad orb aloft,
All that wrong been fully wroken?
Raw flesh ravens got to tear."
So he ran in up the hall, and smote Gunnar Lambi's son on the
neck with such a sharp blow, that his head spun off on to the
board before the king and the earls, and the board was all one
gore of blood, and the earl's clothing too.
Earl Sigurd knew the man that had done the deed, and called out,
"Seize Kari and kill him."
Kari had been one of Earl Sigurd's bodyguard, and he was of all
men most beloved by his friends; and no man stood up a whit more
for the earl's speech.
"Many would say, Lord," said Kari, "that I have done this deed on
your behalf, to avenge your henchman."
Then Flosi said, "Kari hath not done this without a cause; he is
in no atonement with us, and he only did what he had a right to
do."
So Kari walked away, and there was no hue and cry after him.
Kari fared to his ship, and his fellows with him. The weather
was then good, and they sailed off at once south to Caithness,
and went on shore at Thraswick to the house of a worthy man whose
name was Skeggi, and with him they stayed a very long while.
Those behind in the Orkneys cleansed the board, and bore out the
dead man.
The earl was told that they had set sail south for Scotland, and
King Sigtrygg said, "This was a mighty bold fellow, who dealt his
stroke so stoutly, and never thought twice about it!"
Then Earl Sigurd answered, "There is no man like Kari for dash
and daring."
Now Flosi undertook to tell the story of the burning, and he was
fair to all; and therefore what he said was believed.
Then King Sigtrygg stirred in his business with Earl Sigurd, and
bade him go to the war with him against King Brian.
The earl was long steadfast, but the end of it was that he let
the king have his way, but said he must have his mother's hand
for his help, and be king in Ireland, if they slew Brian. But
all his men besought Earl Sigurd not to go into the war, but it
was all no good.
So they parted on the understanding that Earl Sigurd gave his
word to go; but King Sigtrygg promised him his mother and the
kingdom.
It was so settled that Earl Sigurd was to come with all his host
to Dublin by Palm Sunday.
Then King Sigtrygg fared south to Ireland, and told his mother
Kormlada that the earl had undertaken to come, and also what he
had pledged himself to grant him.
She showed herself well pleased at that, but said they must
gather greater force still.
Sigtrygg asked whence this was to be looked for?
She said there were two vikings lying off the west of Man; and
that they had thirty ships, and, she went on, "They are men of
such hardihood that nothing can withstand them. The one's name
is Ospak, and the other's Brodir. Thou shalt fare to find them,
and spare nothing to get them into thy quarrel, whatever price
they ask."
Now King Sigtrygg fares and seeks the vikings, and found them
lying outside off Man; King Sigtrygg brings forward his errand at
once, but Brodir shrank from helping him until he, King Sigtrygg,
promised him the kingdom and his mother, and they were to keep
this such a secret that Earl Sigurd should know nothing about it;
Brodir too was to come to Dublin on Palm Sunday.
So King Sigtrygg fared home to his mother, and told her how
things stood.
After that those brothers, Ospak and Brodir, talked together, and
then Brodir told Ospak all that he and Sigtrygg had spoken of,
and bade him fare to battle with him against King Brian, and said
he set much store on his going.
But Ospak said he would not fight against so good a king.
Then they were both wroth, and sundered their band at once.
Ospak had ten ships and Brodir twenty.
Ospak was a heathen, and the wisest of all men. He laid his
ships inside in a sound, but Brodir lay outside him.
Brodir had been a Christian man and a mass-deacon by
consecration, but he had thrown off his faith and become God's
dastard, and now worshipped heathen fiends, and he was of all men
most skilled in sorcery. He had that coat of mail on which no
steel would bite. He was both tall and strong, and had such long
locks that he tucked them under his belt. His hair was black.
155. OF SIGNS AND WONDERS
It so happened one night that a great din passed over Brodir and
his men, so that they all woke, and sprang up and put on their
clothes.
Along with that came a shower of boiling blood.
Then they covered themselves with their shields, but for all that
many were scalded.
This wonder lasted all till day, and a man had died on board
every ship.
Then they slept during the day, but the second night there was
again a din, and again they all sprang up. Then swords leapt out
of their sheaths, and axes and spears flew about in the air and
fought.
The weapons pressed them so hard that they had to shield
themselves, but still many were wounded, and again a man died out
of every ship.
This wonder lasted all till day.
Then they slept again the day after.
But the third night there was a din of the same kind, and then
ravens flew at them, and it seemed to them as though their beaks
and claws were of iron.
The ravens pressed them so hard that they had to keep them off
with their swords, and covered themselves with their shields, and
so this went on again till day, and then another man had died in
every ship.
Then they went to sleep first of all, but when Brodir woke up, he
drew his breath painfully, and bade them put off the boat.
"For," he said, "I will go to see Ospak."
Then he got into the boat and some men with him, but when he
found Ospak he told him of the wonders which had befallen them,
and bade him say what he thought they boded.
Ospak would not tell him before he pledged him peace, and Brodir
promised him peace, but Ospak still shrank from telling him till
night fell.
Then Ospak spoke and said, "When blood rained on you, therefore
shall ye shed many men's blood, both of your own and others. But
when ye heard a great din, then ye must have been shown the crack
of doom, and ye shall all die speedily. But when weapons fought
against you, that must forebode a battle; but when ravens pressed
you, that marks the devils which ye put faith in, and who will
drag you all down to the pains of hell."
Then Brodir was so wroth that he could answer never a word, but
he went at once to his men, and made them lay his ships in a line
across the sound, and moor them by bearing their cables on shore
at either end of the line, and meant to slay them all next
morning.
Ospak saw all their plan, and then he vowed to take the true
faith, and to go to King Brian, and follow him till his death-
day.
Then he took that counsel to lay his ships in a line, and punt
them along the shore with poles, and cut the cables of Brodir's
ships. Then the ships of Brodir's men began to fall aboard of
one another when they were all fast asleep; and so Ospak and his
men got out of the firth, and so west to Ireland, and came to
Connaught.
Then Ospak told King Brian all that he had learnt, and took
baptism, and gave himself over into the king's hand.
After that King Brian made them gather force over all his realm,
and the whole host was to come to Dublin in the week before Palm
Sunday.
156. BRIAN'S BATTLE
Earl Sigurd Hlodver's son busked him from the Orkneys, and Flosi
offered to go with him.
The earl would not have that, since he had his pilgrimage to
fulfil.
Flosi offered fifteen men of his band to go on the voyage, and
the earl accepted them, but Flosi fared with Earl Gilli to the
Southern isles.
Thorstein, the son of Hall of the Side, went along with Earl
Sigurd, and Hrafn the Red, and Erling of Straumey.
He would not that Hareck should go, but said he would be sure to
be the first to tell him the tidings of his voyage.
The earl came with all his host on Palm Sunday to Dublin, and
there too was come Brodir with all his host.
Brodir tried by sorcery how the fight would go, but the answer
ran thus, that if the fight were on Good-Friday King Brian would
fall but win the day; but if they fought before, they would all
fall who were against him.
Then Brodir said that they must not fight before the Friday.
On the fifth day of the week a man rode up to Kormlada and her
company on an apple-grey horse, and in his hand he held a
halberd; he talked long with them.
King Brian came with all his host to the Burg, and on the Friday
the host fared out of the Burg, and both armies were drawn up in
array.
Brodir was on one wing of the battle, but King Sigtrygg on the
other.
Earl Sigurd was in the mid battle.
Now it must be told of King Brian that he would not fight on the
fast-day, and so a shieldburg (1) was thrown round him, and his
host was drawn up in array in front of it.
Wolf the Quarrelsome was on that wing of the battle against which
Brodir stood; but on the other wing, where Sigtrygg stood against
them, were Ospak and his sons.
But in mid battle was Kerthialfad, and before him the banners
were home.
Now the wings fall on one another, and there was a very hard
fight. Brodir went through the host of the foe, and felled all
the foremost that stood there, but no steel would bite on his
mail.
Wolf the Quarrelsome turned then to meet him, and thrust at him
thrice so hard that Brodir fell before him at each thrust, and
was well-nigh not getting on his feet again; but as soon as ever
he found his feet, he fled away into the wood at once.
Earl Sigurd had a hard battle against Kerthialfad, and
Kerthialfad came on so fast that he laid low all who were in the
front rank, and he broke the array of Earl Sigurd right up to his
banner, and slew the banner-bearer.
Then he got another man to bear the banner, and there was again a
hard fight.
Kerthialfad smote this man too his death blow at once, and so on
one after the other all who stood near him.
Then Earl Sigurd called on Thorstein the son of Hall of the Side,
to bear the banner, and Thorstein was just about to lift the
banner, but then Asmund the White said, "Don't bear the banner!
For all they who bear it get their death."
"Hrafn the Red!" called out Earl Sigurd, "bear thou the banner."
"Bear thine own devil thyself," answered Hrafn.
Then the earl said, "`Tis fittest that the beggar should bear the
bag;'" and with that he took the banner from the staff and put it
under his cloak.
A little after Asmund the White was slain, and then the earl was
pierced through with a spear.
Ospak had gone through all the battle on his wing, he had been
sore wounded, and lost both his sons ere King Sigtrygg fled
before him.
Then flight broke out throughout all the host.
Thorstein Hall of the Side's son stood still while all the others
fled, and tied his shoe-string. Then Kerthialfad asked why he
ran not as the others.
"Because," said Thorstein, "I can't get home to-night, since I
am at home out in Iceland."
Kerthialfad gave him peace.
Hrafn the Red was chased out into a certain river; he thought he
saw there the pains of hell down below him, and he thought the
devils wanted to drag him to them.
Then Hrafn said, "Thy dog (2), Apostle Peter! hath run twice to
Rome, and he would run the third time if thou gavest him leave."
Then the devils let him loose, and Hrafn got across the river.
Now Brodir saw that King Brian's men were chasing the fleers, and
that there were few men by the shieldburg.
Then he rushed out of the wood, and broke through the shieldburg,
and hewed at the king.
The lad Takt threw his arm in the way, and the stroke took it off
and the king's head too, but the king's blood came on the lad's
stump, and the stump was healed by it on the spot.
Then Brodir called out with a loud voice, "Now let man tell man
that Brodir felled Brian."
Then men ran after those who were chasing the fleers, and they
were told that King Brian had fallen, and then they turned back
straightway, both Wolf the Quarrelsome and Kerthialfad.
Then they threw a ring round Brodir and his men, and threw
branches of trees upon them, and so Brodir was taken alive.
Wolf the Quarrelsome cut open his belly, and led him round and
round the trunk of a tree, and so wound all his entrails out of
him, and he did not die before they were all drawn out of him.
Brodir's men were slain to a man.
After that they took King Brian's body and laid it out. The
king's head had grown fast to the trunk.
Fifteen men of the burners fell in Brian's battle, and there,
too, fell Halldor the son of Gudmund the Powerful, and Erling
of Straumey.
On Good-Friday that event happened in Caithness that a man whose
name was Daurrud went out. He saw folk riding twelve together to
a bower, and there they were all lost to his sight. He went to
that bower and looked in through a window slit that was in it,
and saw that there were women inside, and they had set up a loom.
Men's heads were the weights, but men's entrails were the warp
and weft, a sword was the shuttle, and the reels were arrows.
They sang these songs, and he learnt them by heart:
THE WOOF OF WAR.
"See! warp is stretched
For warriors' fall,
Lo! weft in loom
'Tis wet with blood;
Now fight foreboding,
'Neath friends' swift fingers,
Our grey woof waxeth
With war's alarms,
Our warp bloodred,
Our weft corseblue.
"This woof is y-woven
With entrails of men,
This warp is hardweighted
With heads of the slain,
Spears blood-besprinkled
For spindles we use,
Our loom ironbound,
And arrows our reels;
With swords for our shuttles
This war-woof we work;
So weave we, weird sisters,
Our warwinning woof.
"Now Warwinner walketh
To weave in her turn,
Now Swordswinger steppeth,
Now Swiftstroke, now Storm;
When they speed the shuttle
How spearheads shall flash!
Shields crash, and helmgnawer (3)
On harness bite hard!
"Wind we, wind swiftly
Our warwinning woof
Woof erst for king youthful
Foredoomed as his own,
Forth now we will ride,
Then through the ranks rushing
Be busy where friends
Blows blithe give and take.
"Wind we, wind swiftly
Our warwinning woof,
After that let us steadfastly
Stand by the brave king;
Then men shall mark mournful
Their shields red with gore,
How Swordstroke and Spearthrust
Stood stout by the prince.
"Wind we, wind swiftly
Our warwinning woof.
When sword-bearing rovers
To banners rush on,
Mind, maidens, we spare not
One life in the fray!
We corse-choosing sisters
Have charge of the slain.
"Now new-coming nations
That island shall rule,
Who on outlying headlands
Abode ere the fight;
I say that King mighty
To death now is done,
Now low before spearpoint
That Earl bows his head.
"Soon over all Ersemen
Sharp sorrow shall fall,
That woe to those warriors
Shall wane nevermore;
Our woof now is woven.
Now battlefield waste,
O'er land and o'er water
War tidings shall leap.
"Now surely 'tis gruesome
To gaze all around.
When bloodred through heaven
Drives cloudrack o'er head;
Air soon shall be deep hued
With dying men's blood
When this our spaedom
Comes speedy to pass.
"So cheerily chant we
Charms for the young king,
Come maidens lift loudly
His warwinning lay;
Let him who now listens
Learn well with his ears
And gladden brave swordsmen
With bursts of war's song.
"Now mount we our horses,
Now bare we our brands,
Now haste we hard, maidens,
Hence far, far, away."
Then they plucked down the Woof and tore it asunder, and each
kept what she had hold of.
Now Daurrud goes away from the Slit, and home; but they got on
their steeds and rode six to the south, and the other six to the
north.
A like event befell Brand Gneisti's son in the Faroe Isles.
At Swinefell, in Iceland, blood came on the priest's stole on
Good-Friday, so that he had to put it off.
At Thvattwater the priest thought he saw on Good-Friday a long
deep of the sea hard by the altar, and there he saw many awful
sights, and it was long ere he could sing the prayers.
This event happened in the Orkneys, that Hareck thought he saw
Earl Sigurd, and some men with him. Then Hareck took his horse
and rode to meet the earl. Men saw that they met and rode under
a brae, but they were never seen again, and not a scrap was ever
found of Hareck.
Earl Gilli in the Southern isles dreamed that a man came to him
and said his name was Hostfinn, and told him he was come from
Ireland.
The earl thought he asked him for tidings thence, and then he
sang this song:
"I have been where warriors wrestled,
High in Erin sang the sword,
Boss to boss met many bucklers,
Steel rung sharp on rattling helm;
I can tell of all their struggle;
Sigurd fell in flight of spears;
Brian fell, but kept his kingdom
Ere he lost one drop of blood."
Those two, Flosi and the earl, talked much of this dream. A week
after, Hrafn the Red came thither, and told them all the tidings
of Brian's battle, the fall of the king, and of Earl Sigurd, and
Brodir, and all the Vikings.
"What," said Flosi, "hast thou to tell me of my men?
"They all fell there," says Hrafn, "but thy brother-in-law
Thorstein took peace from Kerthialfad, and is now with him."
Flosi told the earl that he would now go away, "For we have our
pilgrimage south to fulfil."
The earl bade him go as he wished, and gave him a ship and all
else that he needed, and much silver.
Then they sailed to Wales, and stayed there a while.
ENDNOTES:
(1) "Shieldburg," that is, a ring of men holding their shields
locked together.
(2) "Thy dog," etc. Meaning that he would go a third time on a
pilgrimage to Rome if St. Peter helped him out of this
strait.
(3) "Helmgnawer," the sword that bites helmets.
157. THE SLAYING OF KOL THORSTEIN'S SON
Kari Solmund's son told master Skeggi that he wished he would get
him a ship. So master Skeggi gave Kari a longship, fully trimmed
and manned, and on board it went Kari, and David the White, and
Kolbein the Black.
Now Kari and his fellows sailed south through Scotland's firths,
and there they found men from the Southern isles. They told Kari
the tidings from Ireland, and also that Flosi was gone to Wales,
and his men with him.
But when Kari heard that, he told his messmates that he would
hold on south to Wales, to fall in with Flosi and his band. So
he bade them then to part from his company, if they liked it
better, and said that he would not wish to beguile any man into
mischief, because he thought he had not yet had revenge enough on
Flosi and his band.
All chose to go with him; and then he sails south to Wales, and
there they lay in hiding in a creek out of the way.
That morning Kol Thorstein's son went into the town to buy
silver. He of all the burners had used the bitterest words. Kol
had talked much with a mighty dame, and he had so knocked the
nail on the head, that it was all but fixed that he was to have
her, and settle down there.
That same morning Kari went also into the town. He came where
Kol was telling the silver.
Kari knew him at once, and ran at him with his drawn sword and
smote him on the neck; but he still went on telling the silver,
and his head counted "ten" just as it spun off his body.
Then Kari said, "Go and tell this to Flosi, that Kari Solmund's
son hath slain Kol Thorstein's son. I give notice of this
slaying as done by my hand."
Then Kari went to his ship, and told his shipmates of the
manslaughter.
Then they sailed north to Beruwick, and laid up their ship, and
fared up into Whitherne in Scotland, and were with Earl Malcolm
that year.
But when Flosi heard of Kol's slaying, he laid out his body, and
bestowed much money on his burial.
Flosi never uttered any wrathful words against Kari.
Thence Flosi fared south across the sea and began his pilgrimage,
and went on south, and did not stop till he came to Rome. There
he got so great honour that he took absolution from the Pope
himself, and for that he gave a great sum of money.
Then he fared back again by the east road, and stayed long in
towns, and went in before mighty men, and had from them great
honour.
He was in Norway the winter after, and was with Earl Eric till he
was ready to sail, and the earl gave him much meal, and many
other men behaved handsomely to him.
Now he sailed out to Iceland, and ran into Hornfirth, and thence
fared home to Swinefell. He had then fulfilled all the terms of
his atonement, both in fines and foreign travel.
158. OF FLOSI AND KARI
Now it is to be told of Kari that the summer after he went down
to his ship and sailed south across the sea, and began his
pilgrimage in Normandy, and so went south and got absolution and
fared back by the western way, and took his ship again in
Normandy, and sailed in her north across the sea to Dover in
England.
Thence he sailed west, round Wales, and so north, through
Scotland's firths, and did not stay his course till he came to
Thraswick in Caithness, to master Skeggi's house.
There he gave over the ship of burden to Kolbein and David, and
Kolbein sailed in that ship to Norway, but David stayed behind in
the Fair Isle.
Kari was that winter in Caithness. In this winter his housewife
died out in Iceland.
The next summer Kari busked him for Iceland. Skeggi gave him a
ship of burden, and there were eighteen of them on board her.
They were rather late "boun," but still they put to sea, and had
a long passage, but at last they made Ingolf's Head. There their
ship was dashed all to pieces, but the men's lives were saved.
Then, too, a gale of wind came on them.
Now they ask Kari what counsel was to be taken; but he said their
best plan was to go to Swinefell and put Flosi's manhood to the
proof.
So they went right up to Swinefell in the storm. Flosi was in
the sitting-room. He knew Kari as soon as ever he came into the
room, and sprang up to meet him, and kissed him, and sate him
down in the high seat by his side.
Flosi asked Kari to be there that winter, and Kari took his
offer. Then they were atoned with a full atonement.
Then Flosi gave away his brother's daughter Hildigunna, whom
Hauskuld the priest of Whiteness had had to wife to Kari, and
they dwelt first of all at Broadwater.
Men say that the end of Flosi's life was, that he fared abroad,
when he had grown old, to seek for timber to build him a hall;
and he was in Norway that winter, but the next summer he was late
"boun"; and men told him that his ship was not seaworthy.
Flosi said she was quite good enough for an old and deathdoomed
man, and bore his goods on shipboard and put out to sea. But of
that ship no tidings were ever heard.
These were the children of Kari Solmund's son and Helga Njal's
daughter -- Thorgerda and Ragneida, Valgerda, and Thord who was
burnt in Njal's house. But the children of Hildigunna and Kari,
were these, Starkad, and Thord, and Flosi.
The son of Burning-Flosi was Kolbein, who has been the most
famous man of any of that stock.
And here we end the STORY of BURNT NJAL.
| 146 - Kari and his companions run into a group of women on their way east. The women say they have talked to the Sigfussons, who are very afraid of Kari. Thorgeir asks if Kari wants to go after the Sigfussons, but he gives a vague response, saying that he wouldn't be against it. Kari admits that men who are "slain only with words live a long life" . A man carrying peat down the road says that Kari and Thorgeir do not have enough men to pursue the Sigfussons. They find some men sleeping where the Sigfussons are said to be and steal their spears, throwing them into the river while they are still asleep. They shout to wake them up and wait until they are armed before attacking. Thorgeir kills a man with his axe by crushing his skull. Lambi attacks Kari with his spear, but Kari jumps up and lands on top of the spear, busting it. Kari then sticks his sword through Sigurd's chest with his right hand and with his left hand he slices Mord Sigfusson's backbone through the hip, killing both of them at the same time. Thorgeir faces off against Leidolf, a mighty warrior. He sinks his sword through Leidolf's collarbone at the same time that Kari cuts off Leidolf's leg mid-thigh. Ketil of Mork says they should retreat on their horses because Kari and Thorgeir are too overpowering--so, they retreat. Kari leaves with Thorgeir as well, deciding not to pursue Ketil because their wives are sisters. Flosi reprimands Ketil for riding so carelessly. When Flosi goes to Hall for advice, Hall says that he must make a settlement with Thorgeir that would weaken Kari. The only settlement that Hall thinks Thorgeir will accept is immunity for the killings he's just committed and 1/3 compensation for Njal and his sons. The Sigfussons agree to Hall's wise but hard settlement. 147 - Hall of Sida and his son Kol ride with four other men to Thorgeir's residence. They learn Thorgeir is in Holt, and they ride to him there. When Hall arrives, Kari and Thorgeir help him off his horse and kiss him. Thorgeir hadn't wanted to make a settlement before, but Kari and Hall beg him to accept this settlement now, since he has "accomplished much in the way of killings since then" . Kari will not settle, because his son still needs to be avenged. Thorgeir offers a truce for the time being and they both give Hall gifts of gold and silver. Flosi admits that he wishes he had Kari's character. Thorgeir makes the settlement with Flosi, with a stipulation that nobody is allowed to attack Kari if he is in Thorgeir's residence. 148 - Kari does not wish to stay with Thorgeir despite this stipulation because he is afraid that, if he kills someone, Thorgeir will be endangered by association. Kari rides north and puts his property in Thorgeir's trust. He stays with Bjorn the White, who is loosely related to both Njal and Gunnar of Hlidarendi. Kari asks for Bjorn to come with him on his travels because of his keen sight and swiftness. Bjorn's wife overhears and scorns Bjorn's boastfulness, saying that he is not half as brave or reliable as he claims to be. Bjorn says that he doesn't fight often because few men pick fights with him - "no one dares!" People think that Kari has gone to see Gudmund the Powerful farther north, so he decides to take advantage of the misdirection by staying at Bjorn's. 149 - Flosi tells the other burners that there is not much time and they have to start thinking of going abroad and paying their compensations. Flosi knows they can buy a ship from Eyjolf Nose, a Norwegian in Iceland, because this man wants to marry a woman but needs help to do so. He settles Eyjolf Nose's marriage and gains twenty hundreds in homespun, as well the offer of any goods he might need in the future, as thanks. Flosi warns the Sigfussons to travel only in large packs because, although there are rumors about Kari being in the north, Flosi does not necessarily believe them. He reminds Ketil of his dream that condemns many of these men to their deaths. Ketil says he knows their fates to be sealed, but will do his best to protect them anyway. The Sigfussons kiss Flosi before leaving. They come across Bjorn and ask him about Kari, to which Bjorn responds with the rumor that he has gone to Gudmund. Kari is grateful for Bjorn's fib, but Bjorn's wife is skeptical of such mistruths. 150 - Kari plans to travel through the district of Flosi's Thingmen with Bjorn. Bjorn's wife adds that if Bjorn should fail to help Kari in this, it will be grounds for divorce. As they ride, they become nervous that the Sigfussons will ride down the mountains toward them. Kari finds Bjorn's frantic indecision about how they should prepare "very amusing" . The Sigfussons arrive at Bjorn's door, and Bjorn's wife lies that Bjorn is collecting payments down south. Kari and Bjorn find the Sigfussons resting just where they thought they would be on their journey north. Kari tells Bjorn to stay behind him, acting only as a support during the battle. Kari breaks Modolf's spear with his shield, and then, after a brief melee, he takes off Modolf's hand and sticks his sword between his ribs on the ground, killing him. Grani throws a spear Kari's way, but he sends it into the ground with his shield, picks it up, and throws it back. The spear goes through Grani's shield, through his thigh just below the crotch, and into the ground, pinning him so that he cannot move. Bjorn makes himself useful by cutting off a man's hand and then slicing him in two at the waist. He then steps back to his place behind Kari. Kari kills two more men, cutting them in half at the shoulders. Bjorn wounds many more men, but never puts himself at risk of death. All survive the battle, besides Kari and Bjorn, are wounded. Kari and Bjorn go to a nearby house to report the deaths and the people who receive the news also ridicule Bjorn for not killing more men. 151 - Kari tests Bjorn's intelligence by asking him how they can cleverly mislead the Sigfussons. Bjorn doesn't disappoint, giving the same answer that Kari had already anticipated: to start heading north until a hill comes between them and their pursuers, and then turn back south. When they reach a lava patch, Kari settles down for a short sleep. Bjorn wakes him up as their enemies approach, and Kari tells him he can either do as he did last time or ride away immediately. He choses the former once again. Three men pass on horses and are too distracted by the lava to see Kari and Bjorn, but then six more men come and attack them. Glum thrusts at Kari with his spear, but hits a rock instead. Bjorn cuts off the top of the spear and Kari takes off Glum's leg, killing him. Kari and Bjorn are wounded for the first time when they kill two brothers. Kari dodges Ketil of Mork's spear and sends it into the ground with a kick. He then pounces on the spear, breaking it in half. Just as Bjorn is about to deliver Ketil's death blow, Kari tells him to hold off, saying that he will always spare Ketil's life. Ketil and his living companions have armies sent north to pursue Kari and Bjorn, just as they had planned. Flosi says there is no match for Kari in Iceland. 152 - Kari narrowly escapes the search party, bringing his horses to a bank covered with lyme-grass so they won't starve. They head back to Bjorn's place, and Bjorn's wife asks how Bjorn did. Kari seems proud of the effort Bjorn gave along the whole trip. In secret, they head out to Thorgeir and tell him what occurred. Kari says he still needs to kill Gunnar Lambason and Kol Thorsteinsson, which will bring their vengeance kill count to fifteen. Thorgeir and Bjorn switch farms, and Thorgeir is tasked with preventing people from seeking vengeance on Bjorn. As a result, Bjorn is "thought to be much more of a man than before" . Kari stays with Asgrim for a few nights and then moves on to Gizur the White, who gives Kari a fine sword as a gift. Kari heads down to Eyrar, taking passage with Kolbein the Black, a long-time friend from Orkney. 153 - Flosi and his Thingmen ride out to the ship and set sail with all their goods. On their sea voyage, the weather is very bad and their ship goes down, sparing none of their goods, but all of their lives. They find out that they are on the Mainland in Orkney. Flosi says this is not a good place to be because Helgi Njalsson was a follower of Earl Sigurd Hlodvisson. They hide for a long time, and then Flosi decides they must turn themselves in since the earl already owns their lives in Orkney. The earl recognizes them and seizes them immediately. Thorstein, son of Hall and brother-in-law to Flosi, sees this and offers all his earthly possessions to Sigurd for Flosi's life. The earl agrees to this settlement after long deliberation. Flosi enters the earl's service in Helgi's place and eventually earns great respect. 154 - Kari and Kolbein set out to sea half a month after Flosi. They make it to Fair Isle and hear that the Mainland is busy with activity. Many royal people from nearby states are visiting the earl, and Kormlod, an evil and spiteful woman, reveals her plot to kill her ex-husband, King Brian. Right now, they are all in Earl Sigurd's hall hearing Gunnar Lambason's account of the burning of Njal. Kormlod has brought her son, King Sigtrygg of Ireland, to try to get the earl's help in killing King Brian. 155 - Kari and Kolbein arrive on the mainland quietly; they head to the earl's residence and overhear Gunnar Lambason relaying the story. It is Christmas Day. Sigtrygg inquires about how Skarphedin held up in the burning; Gunnar says that he wept. Kari can't stand Gunnar's lies and slanted accounts of the burning. He rushes in with his sword drawn and speaks a verse condemning Gunnar's boasting and announcing the many killings the he has undertaken since then in revenge. He rushes at Gunnar and slices his head off, covering the tables and all the earl's clothing with blood. The earl stands up and tells his men to seize Kari and to kill him. Nobody rises. Kari explains that he did this deed to avenge one of the earl's followers. Flosi agrees that Kari had good reason to do this. Kari walks away with nobody pursuing him, and sails south to Freswick to stay with a man named Skeggi. Meanwhile, Sigtrygg and Sigurd admire Kari's bravery, and Flosi retells the story of the burning with balanced and fair details. Then, they discuss the matter of killing King Brian. Sigurd does not want to, but agrees under the condition that he marry Kormlod and become the king of Ireland. Although everybody protests, they are unsuccessful and he has his way. The earl will go to Dublin on Palm Sunday to battle. Kormlod says that they will need more men, and that they can be found in the thirty Viking ships off the shore of Isle of Man owned by Brodir and Ospak. She tells her son Sigtrygg to offer whatever necessary to get them to fight with them. The only thing they will agree to is that Brodir will get the kingship of Ireland and Kormlod's hand in marriage. This is kept quiet from Sigurd. Ospak, a wise heathen, does not want to attack such a good king, and the brothers get into a feud, splitting up their forces. Brodir, an ordained deacon of Christianity, casts aside his religion to perform sacrifices to heathen spirits and conduct sorcery for his armor to be impenetrable by steel. 156 - One night, a storm of boiling blood breaks out over Brodir's ships and scalds the men, killing one on each ship. The next night, weapons shower down on the ships, killing one on each ship again. The next night, ravens fly at the men with beaks and claws of iron, killing one man on each ship. After each of these nights, the men have to catch up on sleep during the day. Finally Brodir takes a boat to see Ospak, who agrees to tell him what these omens mean later that evening. The blood represents the blood of his men that will be shed; the noise that accompanied each catastrophe represents the breaking-up of the world, and Brodir's imminent death; the weapons represent battle; the ravens represent trusted friends who will turn into enemies that will drag Brodir "down to the torments of hell" . Brodir is so angry that he cannot speak. He immediately begins preparations to have Ospak killed in the morning. Ospak notices this and decides join forces with King Brian after accepting Christianity. Ospak's men cut the ropes from Brodir's ships and sails to Kincora, Ireland. He tells King Brian of Kormlod's plans, receives a baptism, and helps him to build an army for Palm Sunday. 157 - Flosi offers his service to Earl Sigurd, but is refused on the basis that Flosi must make a pilgrimage to Rome. Brodir's army is already in Dublin when the earl arrives. Brodir had done some sorcery to determine how the battle would go and found this out: if they fight on Good Friday, Brian will be killed but still have the victory, and if they fight before Good Friday, all those against Brian would be killed. When the armies prepare to attack Brian, he puts up a shield wall, not wanting to fight on Good Friday. However, the battle begins anyway. Brodir fearlessly kills many enemies until he comes upon Ulf Hraeda, who thrusts at him thrice and scares him into hiding in the woods. A man named Kerthjalfad on Brian's side begins killing all those in his way and giving special attention to Earl Sigurd's banner-bearers. Nobody wants to carry the banner anymore; even when they take it off the pole and stuff it in Amundi the White's clothing, he is sought out and killed. The earl is pierced by a spear as well. Ospak is badly wounded as well. Both of Brian's sons die in battle. Kerthjalfad spares Thorstein's life while he is tying his shoe because Thorstein says he cannot reach home tonight and will not run away as a result. Hrafn the Red sees hell and many devils trying to drag him under when he reaches a river. He reasons with the devils, saying that he has pilgrimaged to Rome twice, and is turned loose. Brodir sees that the shield wall is weak and goes after King Brian. A boy, Tadk, shields the king, but Brodir's slash is too strong: it cuts off both the King's head and the boy's arm. Brian's head falls onto the stump of the boy's arm and the arm is immediately healed. Word spreads of the king's death, and Brodir is taken prisoner by engulfing him in branches. Ulf Hraeda cuts open Brodir's stomach and takes out the intestines, making Brodir walk around an oak tree until all of his guts are wrapped around the tree. Only then does Brodir fall over, dead. The rest of Brodir's men are executed as well. King Brian's head has grown back, and they lay out his body. Rewinding to the morning of Good Friday, a man named Dorrud sees twelve people riding together to a women's room. He looks inside to see that the women had set up looms made of men's body parts: heads for weights, intestines for the weft and warp, and their weapons for other parts. The women speak a long verse relating their looms to the battle and to the valkyries. They also predict the fall of King Brian and an evil time coming after it for the Irish. The women then pull down the cloth they have made and tear it apart, keeping a small portion each. Six women ride south, and six ride north. A similar event occurs in the Faroe Islands. In Iceland, blood appears on the priest's cope on Good Friday, and another priest sees a deep sea filled with demons next to his alter. In Orkney, a man named Harek sees Sigurd and rides off to meet him, never to be seen again. In the Hebrides, Earl Gilli listens to a verse spoken by an Irish man named Herfinn about his dream in which Sigurd and Brian die. Flosi hears about the battle from Hrafn and learns that only Thorstein was spared. The rest of the burners who went are dead. Flosi and the few remaining burners make their pilgrimage to Rome. 158 - Kari asks Skeggi to find him a ship; once this is done, they set sail to the Hebrides, where Kari hears of what happened in Ireland. He learns that Flosi is in Wales on his way to Rome, and he heads there immediately. In Wales, one of the burners, Kol Thorsteinsson, goes into town to buy silver, and Kari sees him there. He cuts off Kol's head just as he is counting his silver to the number ten--a number that is uttered by his amputated head. Flosi spends a lot of money on Kol's funeral but does not speak ill of Kari. Flosi makes his way to Rome and receives absolution from the Pope himself. He makes his way back to Iceland with the help of Earl Eirik of Norway. Flosi has finally fulfilled his part of the settlement for the burning of Njal. 159 - Kari, too, sets out on a pilgrimage and receives absolution from the Pope himself. Whereas Flosi returned by the eastern route, Kari takes the western route. He reaches Skeggi and stays with him for the winter. Kari's wife dies in Iceland that winter as well. Kari prepares to set sail and he has a tough passage. Upon arriving, the ship shatters but all the men's lives are spared. With snow falling thickly, Kari's men ask what they should do. Kari goes with them to Svinafell, Flosi's residence, to put Flosi's "magnanimity to the test" . Flosi greets Kari with a kiss and places him in the high seat by his side. Kari stays with him that winter. Furthermore, Flosi offers Kari the hand of his brother's daughter, Hildigunn, the ex-wife of Hoskuld the Godi of Hvitanes. Flosi dies much later as an old man when he is gathering wood from Norway and his return ship is lost at sea. Kari names one of his and Hildigunn's children 'Flosi'.
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booksum | "You are a highly sophisticated AI summarization expert with an exceptional ability to distill compl(...TRUNCATED) | "Chapter: <CHAPTER>\n3. THE DAUGHTERS OF THE LATE COLONEL. Chapter 3.I.\n\nThe week after was one of(...TRUNCATED) | " I \"The week after was one of the busiest of their lives\" . Josephine and Constantia, daughters o(...TRUNCATED) |
booksum | "You are a highly sophisticated AI summarization expert with an exceptional ability to distill compl(...TRUNCATED) | "Chapter: THE SEVENTH BOOK\n\nI. What is wickedness? It is that which many time and often thou hast\(...TRUNCATED) | " Marcus comments on the evil that he sees--and has seen --in the world around him. More on the same(...TRUNCATED) |
booksum | "You are a highly sophisticated AI summarization expert with an exceptional ability to distill compl(...TRUNCATED) | "Chapter: THE EIGHTH BOOK\n\nI. This also, among other things, may serve to keep thee from vainglory(...TRUNCATED) | " Marcus begins this book with a tone of regret: he will not be a career philosopher. He will not ev(...TRUNCATED) |
booksum | "You are a highly sophisticated AI summarization expert with an exceptional ability to distill compl(...TRUNCATED) | "Chapter: The faithful Cacambo had already prevailed upon the Turkish skipper, who\nwas to conduct t(...TRUNCATED) | " Cacambo had made arrangements for Candide and himself to sail aboard a ship commanded by a Turkish(...TRUNCATED) |
booksum | "You are a highly sophisticated AI summarization expert with an exceptional ability to distill compl(...TRUNCATED) | "Chapter: ACT 4. SCENE I.\n\nVenice. A court of justice\n\n[Enter the DUKE: the Magnificoes; ANTONIO(...TRUNCATED) | " At the court of law in Venice, the Duke, Antonio, Bassanio, Salerio, Graziano, and various notable(...TRUNCATED) |
booksum | "You are a highly sophisticated AI summarization expert with an exceptional ability to distill compl(...TRUNCATED) | "Chapter: ACT FIRST.\n\n A spacious, handsome, and tastefully furnished drawing room,\n decorated (...TRUNCATED) | " NOTE: The physical set-up is IMPORTANT to the play. Make sure you read our description carefully. (...TRUNCATED) |
booksum | "You are a highly sophisticated AI summarization expert with an exceptional ability to distill compl(...TRUNCATED) | "Chapter: THE SIXTH BOOK\n\nI. The matter itself, of which the universe doth consist, is of itself\n(...TRUNCATED) | " Marcus reiterates the benign nature of the Whole: the overseeing Reason creates everything for a p(...TRUNCATED) |
booksum | "You are a highly sophisticated AI summarization expert with an exceptional ability to distill compl(...TRUNCATED) | "Chapter: THE FIRST BLOW\n\n\nI was so pleased at having given the slip to Long John, that I began t(...TRUNCATED) | " By crossing a swamp, Jim believes he has escaped from Silver and thus can relax and enjoy explorin(...TRUNCATED) |
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