8

The Fight with Glam’s Ghost

For the rest of the summer, Grettir was sullen and short of temper, constantly looking for someone with whom he could fight or for some deed that was worth doing.

In the late fall, when winter was approaching, he rode north to visit his mother’s brother, Jokull, the grandson of the Jokull whose sword his mother had given him. As he rode through Vatnsdal, it seemed to him that much of the valley was deserted. There were almost no cattle or sheep grazing in the fields, and many of the farmsteads seemed empty.

Jokull welcomed Grettir warmly, and that night when Grettir told him what he had seen during his ride, Jokull said, “It is so. Many have left Vatnsdal because of their fear of Glam’s ghost. And if no help is found soon, the whole of the valley may be abandoned.”

“Who is this Glam and why does his ghost walk?” asked Grettir. Then Jokull told him the story, and a frightening story it was.

There was a man named Thorhall who lived in a stead in the southernmost part of Vatnsdal. He was a wealthy man with much livestock, but he could not get anyone to tend his beasts for him because those parts were haunted. He spoke to Skapti the Lawman about this, and Skapti said he would send him someone who might do.

“His name is Glam, and he is a Swede,” said Skapti. “He is a big, strong man and not easy to get on with. But I do not think he fears anything.”

Thorhall said that would suit him well, but when he saw Glam, he was not so sure about it. For Glam was big, as Skapti had said, but he had a wolflike face and great gray eyes and long, gray wolflike hair. Thorhall told him that the place was said to be haunted, but Glam said that would not bother him, and they struck a bargain for his services.

Though most folk did not like Glam, all went well until the morning of Yule Eve. Glam rose early and called for food, and Thorhall’s wife told him it was not proper to eat on this day since the morrow was the first day of Yule.

“You may fast if you like, but I will not,” said Glam. “For I do not hold with your beliefs nor do I go to your church. Now bring me food.”

“I think that things will go ill with you because of this,” said the mistress. But she was afraid to refuse him and brought him food. He ate and went off to attend the stock.

Shortly after he left the hall, the day became dark, and it began to snow. Thorhall and his folk went to Mass and returned to the stead, but by evening Glam had not returned. The next morning he had still not returned, and after Mass, Thorhall sent men to look for him. They found the sheep and cattle scattered everywhere, but saw no sign of Glam. Finally they came on tracks that led up into the hills, and when they followed them, they came to a hollow where the earth was torn up as if a great struggle had taken place there. And in the center of the hollow was Glam. He was dead; his bones broken and his body black and swollen to enormous size.

Though the men were overcome with horror, they tried to bring his body down, but they could not carry it beyond the edge of the hollow. So they left it and went back to tell Thorhall what they had found. He asked them how they thought Glam had died, and they said they thought that the evil spirit that had been there before had come on Glam and killed him. But they also thought that Glam had given the evil spirit great wounds, for there were bloody tracks leading up farther into the hills. And, in truth, no more was ever seen of the evil spirit.

The next day the men went out again with oxen to bring Glam’s body down to the churchyard. But even the oxen could only drag him a little way, and they took that to be a sign that he was not to be buried in the churchyard, so they buried him there in the hills under a pile of stones.

Soon after that, Glam’s ghost began to walk, and those who met him were either killed or badly injured, and some who only saw him lost their wits. Many who lived in those parts were so terrified that they moved away.

In the spring, when the days lengthened, Glam’s ghost was seen less and less, and folk began to think that perhaps the evil had passed. But when winter drew in, he began again to ride the rooftops at night and became even more violent. He slew two of Thorhall’s men and began raiding farther and farther afield, killing men and cattle all up and down the valley, so that few dared to abide there. And that was the way it was now and why much of the vale was deserted.

Grettir was silent when Jokull had finished this tale, and then he asked where Thorhall was now.

“He is at his stead,” said Jokull, “he and his wife alone, for none now dare stay with him. But I think he will soon leave there as he did this winter past, because now that the nights grow long, the ghost becomes more violent than ever.”

“I think that I will go and visit Thorhall,” said Grettir.

“I would counsel you against it,” said Jokull. “Evil cometh from evil. It is hard enough contending with evil men, but a ghost is even worse to deal with.”

“I have dealt with ghosts before,” said Grettir. “Let us see how I fare with this one.”

The next day he rode up the deserted valley to Thorhall’s stead. Thorhall was delighted to see him and even more delighted to hear that he wished to spend the night there. “For,” he said, “you must have heard what is happening here.”

“That is why I came,” said Grettir.

They locked Grettir’s horse in the stable, and though there was no sign of Glam’s ghost about the house that night, when they went to the stable in the morning there was Grettir’s horse dead with every bone in its body broken.

Thorhall said that was a bad sign and advised Grettir to leave before nightfall. “If you do not,” he said, “I fear it may be your doom.”

“My horse was a good one, and I owe it something,” said Grettir. “I will not take less for its life than a sight of the evil wight who slew it.”

“That is a sight which I do not think you will enjoy,” said Thorhall. “For he looks not human.”

But Grettir still said he would stay, and when the night came, he stretched out on a bench in the hall in front of Thorhall’s enclosed bed and covered himself with a fur cloak. About midnight there was a loud noise as of something trampling on the roof and tearing at it. Then the door opened, and by the dim glow of the night light that burned in the hall, Grettir could make out Glam’s shape. He was huge, much larger than a man, standing almost as tall as the roof beams above. His head was big; his hair long and matted, and as he looked about, his eyes glowed like the eyes of a beast.

Glam came into the hall, and seeing the cloak, he took hold of it. But Grettir held on to it, too, bracing his feet against a crossbeam, and Glam could not pull it away from him. Glam tugged even harder, so hard that he lifted Grettir up off the bench, and the cloak was torn in two between the two of them. Then Grettir leaped forward and took Glam around the waist, and a great struggle began. Back and forth they swayed, smashing into benches and tables and shattering them. Glam was trying to drag Grettir out of the hall and into the open, and Grettir was trying to hold back and stay within. But great as Grettir’s strength was, Glam slowly pulled him toward the door. When they reached it and Grettir saw that he could no longer hold back, instead of resisting, he drove forward as hard as he could. Glam was not prepared for this, and he reeled backward, tearing away the door posts and lintel, and falling on his back with Grettir on top of him.

The moon was full and shining brightly, and by its light Grettir saw Glam’s face and his great, gray warlock’s eyes glaring up at him. And this was so horrible a sight that for the first time in his life Grettir felt dread. And what with this and his great weariness, he had not the strength to draw his sword.

Then Glam spoke and said, “Fiercely have you fought, Grettir, and you have conquered. But I say to you that you will gain little from your victory. For though you are now stronger than all other men, your strength will never grow greater than it is now. More than that, whatever luck you had will now leave you, and all your deeds will turn against you and lead to outlawry, so that you will be forced to live alone, hunted like a wolf. But the worst part of the curse I lay on you is this: that whenever you are in the dark, you will see my eyes, and so you will be afraid to be alone, and this will lead you to your death.”

As Glam finished speaking, Grettir’s weakness left him, and drawing his sword, he cut off Glam’s head and laid it between his thighs as he had done with Kar the Old. Then Thorhall came out of the house and praised God and thanked Grettir for what he had done. Together they piled wood on Glam’s body and burned it and then carried the ashes far away and buried them.

It was daylight when they had finished, and Grettir was stiff and sore and weary and lay down to rest. But Thorhall sent for those who still lived in those parts and told them what Grettir had done, and all agreed that this was the greatest deed that any had heard of and one that had brought the most good, since Grettir had not merely helped them but had again made the valley a safe place in which to live when they had given up all hope of that.

The next day Thorhall gave Grettir his best horse to take the place of the one that had been killed and fine clothes, for those he had been wearing were all torn. Thorhall and his neighbors thanked him again for what he had done, and they parted in warm friendship.

Grettir rode home to Bjarg and told all there what had happened, and they, too, said that it was a great deed that he had done. But his brother Atli said, “I do not like what you have told me. For while we are all Christians now, there are old, dark forces here that still have power. And it might well be that with Glam’s death your luck has ended.”

“I do not believe in luck,” said Grettir. “A man makes his own fate.”

“You say that because you have been fortunate so far, and though you are still young, you are already one of the most famous men in Iceland. But no wind blows always from the same quarter.”

“Are you telling me that things will now go ill with me?” said Grettir.

“I am telling you to be careful and watch your temper. For if you do not—and there is anything in what Glam said—it could lead to serious trouble.”

Grettir said he would be as careful as he could be, but he was afraid that now his temper would be shorter than ever. For Glam’s curse was already beginning to work, and now when he was alone at night, he saw Glam’s eyes and other terrible things, and so he had become fearful of the dark and slept very badly.

Grettir spent the winter at Bjarg, and Atli saw that what he had said was true. For often during the night Grettir would cry out and wake up and seize his weapons. When this happened, Atli would talk to him and quiet him. But he could see how it would be a hard thing for Grettir if he were alone and there were no one by him to whom he could speak when he woke this way, thinking he must again fight Glam’s ghost.