The Story of the Vikings by Hall Jennifer

Author:Hall, Jennifer [Hall, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: azw, epub
Publisher: Perennial Press
Published: 2018-03-09T16:00:00+00:00

ERIC THE RED

IT WAS A SPRING day many years after Ingolf died. All the freemen in the west of Iceland had come to a meeting. Here they made laws and punished men for having done wrong. The meeting was over now. Men were walking about the plain and talking. Everybody seemed much excited. Voices were loud, arms were swinging.

“It was an unjust decision,” someone cried. “Eric killed the men in fair fight. The judges outlawed him because they were afraid. His foe Thorgest has many rich and powerful men to back him.”

“No, no!” said another. “Eric is a bloody man. I am glad he is out of Iceland.”

Just then a big man with bushy red hair and beard stalked through the crowd. He looked straight ahead and scowled.

“There he goes,” people said, and turned to look after him.

“His hands are as red as his beard,” some said, and frowned.

But others looked at him and smiled, saying:

“He walks like Thor the Fearless.”

“His story would make a fine song,” one said. “As strong and as brave and as red as Thor! Always in a quarrel. A man of many places—Norway, the north of Iceland, the west of Iceland, those little islands off the shore of Iceland. Outlawed from all of them on account of his quarrels. Where will he go now, I wonder?”

This Eric strode down to the shore with his men following.

“He is in a black temper,” they said. “We should best not talk to him.”

So they made ready the boat in silence. Eric got into the pilot’s seat and they sailed off. Soon they pulled the ship up on their own shore. Eric strolled into his house and called for supper. When the drinking-horns had been filled and emptied, Eric pulled himself up and smiled and shouted out so that the great room was full of his big voice:

“There is no friend like mead. It always cheers a man’s heart.”

Then laughter and talking began in the hall because Eric’s good temper had come back. After a while Eric said:

“Well, I must off somewhere. I have been driven about from place to place, like a seabird in a storm. And there is always a storm about me. It is my sword’s fault. She is ever itching to break her peace-bands and be out and at the play. She has shut Norway to me and now Iceland. Where will you go next, old comrade?” and he pulled out his sword and looked at it and smiled as the fire flashed on it.

“There are some of us who will follow you wherever you go, Eric,” called a man from across the fire.

“Is it so?” Eric cried, leaping up. “Oh! then we shall have some merry times yet. Who will go with me?”

More than half the men in the hall jumped to their feet and waved their drinking-horns and shouted:

“I! I!”

Eric sat down in his chair and laughed.

“O you bloody birds of battle!” he cried. “Ever hungry for new frolic! Our swords are sisters in blood, and we are brothers in adventure.

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