41. Colm Reflects

Colm sat nodding over his chess board. It was very warm in the stove-room and he felt drowsy, but if he had less of a fire then his bones began to ache with cold. A servant girl brought him a cup of broth and he drank it down. It seemed all that he ate any more was broth and skyr. He still had most of his teeth, too, but chewing seemed much of a bother. He watched the girl moving about the room and thought how pretty she was. All the young girls were so pretty! And they were so very young! Sometimes Colm saw them flirting with the young men and smiled to himself to watch the young people so excited to be alive. Well, his remaining days were few and Colm was not unhappy about that. He thought he had done all a man could do, or at least all that the man he was could do and he was not much interested in doing more. He was wealthy now and had land and livestock and a hoard of silver. He reminded himself again to go see Hallvard and work out how his property would be divided on his death. It would be irresponsible to die without a will. People would quarrel over his property and there would be trouble. That would be a fine legacy!

Thurid would be alright -- she and Cran had the Helgafeld farm -- and other properties he owned would fall to the people who farmed them -- that had to be made clear -- but there was still the Trollfarm that belonged to him alone. And that was a problem. A freedman's property would revert to his former master when he died. Bjorn was long dead, of course, but still, Colm's farm was open to anyone who might seize it. Hallvard would fight for it, and Cran and Styr would back him. Orm might, but he was being courted by Snorri godi who might neutralize him if it came to a feud. Snorri was the man who might try to take the Trollfarm. But beforehand, he would make an ally of every man who might oppose him. Perhaps Snorri's overtures to Orm were a signal of his intentions. Colm had to think how to stop this fight from happening. Perhaps he ought to just gift the Trollfarm to Snorri. Or to the Church.

The Church would have its share in any case, of course, enough so that prayers for Edgar’s soul would continue. Colm had not arranged such prayers for Gwyneth or Geirrid or himself. In fact, he had little to do with religion and had not been confessed since Ljot had heard him. But the penance he did for Edgar was meant to buy them all a measure of mercy from the harsh judgement of God.

Once, Colm had seen little beyond himself and the clothes on his back. Then his world had expanded to include a farm and the concerns of his neighbors. He had become important to the community and had been an advisor to chieftains. When important decisions had been made, he had been there. Now his world had shrunk to what it had been when he was a slave. Sometimes he thought of those days and Gwyneth, in her youth. He called up her face as it had been then or, at least, as he repainted it in memory. He recalled the soft touch of her hand on his arm as she tried to sway his decision about something, he couldn’t remember what, but he could feel that gentle hand as though it were touching him now.

Colm hung his face over the chessmen that Geirrid had given him. The amber glowed in the firelight and Colm thought he felt warmth rise from the pieces against his face. He wondered, as he sometimes did, about Geirrid and whether he had found the center of the world. Several Icelanders had been to Novgorod or Miklagard and returned but none had reported seeing him. But the world was large and there were many places a man might go that were unknown in Iceland.

Great changes had happened in the world in the last while. Icelanders had taken part in many of them while Colm stayed home. Canute was king in England now but the Danes had lost control of Norway after Olaf the Large had taken power away from their vassals. The Irish had driven the Norse out of their country, except for those who had married there, of course, but they were Irish themselves now, Colm supposed. He seldom thought of Ireland any more and had little desire to visit that island. But then, he had no desire to travel anywhere. “I have not travelled much,” he said aloud.

“Nor I.” Colm raised his head to see Snorri godi sitting opposite him. “Except to Norway once,” said Snorri, “But then I became godi and this land seemed most important to me.”

“I am a poor host,” said Colm. “I did not notice you come in. I must have been asleep.”

“I admit that I took a little nap myself,” said Snorri. “It is warm here, and pleasant.”

Colm called for refreshments. Snorri often came by to play chess and the servants knew what to bring him.

“I also visited Norway,” said Colm, “Though I never left the harbor. And I saw a bit of Frisia on a raid once, but that’s not exactly what I meant by travel.”

“No,” agreed Snorri.

“So,” said Colm, “You think travelling about the world is not so important?”

“I think this is world enough for me. It is all that I can handle most days. Why should I seek more problems?”

Colm nodded. He noticed the lines in Snorri’s face and the grey in his hair. It struck him that Snorri was only a year or two older than Geirrid. “There are important matters to take care of here,” he said.

“Yes,” said Snorri, “What could be more important than making a community where people can work together and raise their families in peace and prosperity?”

“Well,” said Colm, “One important matter to consider is that poor chess move you tried last time you were here. I don’t recall that working out very well for you.”

Snorri smiled, “It may be our memories differ. But I have been giving some thought to these problems and have a few moves to try that might disturb your peace.”

So the two men bent over the board and began a game.

 

 

HERE ENDS

THE SAGA OF COLM THE SLAVE