The Great Tree and the Reasonable People

The Great Tree and the Reasonable People

There was a great tree, at least 16 yards around its base that stood on the great lawn in the center of a village.  The village itself was not great, but above average and its only greatness was derived from this tree and its expansive lawn.  The towering silver maple could be seen from the ocean a few miles away and it predated any recorded history of the region.  Even the oldest  local man whose hundredth birthday was celebrated almost a decade before could only mumble out that not only had the tree been the same size since he was five years old, it seemed to become even younger and healthier as he had aged.

                Around the base of the tree were arranged in a circle wrought iron benches level with the ground and quite comfortable and the villagers of all walks of life would spend time beneath the great tree.  They were a reasonable people and would mildly socialize or remain meditative and silent.  They would observe the seasons and remark on their predictabilities or their vicissitudes.  Beneath the great boughs was a place that all knew as the very definition of comfort in that they felt safe, complacent, yet mildly alert to and interested in the things around them. 

                About four feet from the ground on the trunk was a public tap.  The tap along with the tree had been there before any person had started to record history whether in print or painting or oral tales.  It was a brass spout the size of an average bathroom spout pounded or screwed deep into the trunk.   Its handle was a simple lever, almost spoon like, and would accommodate with most comfort the right handed turn.  The even smoothness of its turn was matched only by the smoothness of worn metal which no matter the direction of the sun or wind was always the exact same temperature of the air.

                If one were to turn the tap and wait for almost a full two minutes, first a few drips, then a trickle of the clearest liquid would issue from the spout.  The trickle would seem to get stronger for a moment and then go back to a light trickle after its peak. Even though the liquid would seem to be the purest of waters, it came from a tree, so it was a sap.  But this sap was not a sugary viscous solution, nor was it a coniferous resin.  All who sipped it remarked that in essence it was completely tasteless, yet one of the most inspiring tastes they had ever experienced.  In fact, what they were sipping was the purest form of water possible with the exception of a trace amount of a dynamic and mysterious sugar.  This chemical compound defied classification and left many a university researcher pacing dangerously through the laboratory.  What was said, though, was that when ingested the compound increased one’s wisdom if only just a little.

Generations of villagers throughout  three or perhaps even  four centuries would spend an evening, an afternoon off from work, a lunch hour, or a summer morning before the heat became insufferable around the great tree lightly sipping from clear glasses.  Rarely would large gatherings occur because the villagers were a reasonable people and they understood the sanctity of that little rotunda beneath the great boughs.  Visitors, as well, recognized the inherent importance of the location and refrained from the gratuitous self-photographs at the tap which they had traveled so far to take.  Many arrived with the intention of imbibing the “cleanest of nectars” but simply stood back and marveled at the immensity of the tree above its great lawn flanked by the village municipal offices, Main Street, and the county swimming pool.  There was no local hierarchy, no threatening gestures or looks from the villagers to intimidate tourists, it was simply that upon arrival the visitors did not want to disrupt the peace at the base of the great tree.

Children did not climb the tree as the lowest boughs were a good 25 feet from the ground.  They also knew better than to try.  Even the most self-indulgent thrill seekers who travelled from far away, and during the cover of night attempted to cling to the thick strips of bark with sinuous muscles, grip shoes and chalked hands would recognize their attempts to mount the summit of this ancient entity as profane, turn themselves away at the top of the regular tree line and return to their cars and leave the village as quietly as they entered.

During one portentous spring afternoon, a particularly and declaratively wise and respected woman remarked on the slow properties of the tap.  She was not concerned about the time it took to fill the small glasses, though.  She was a woman of foresight and design, being chief civil engineer of the county.  She proposed with conviction while the idea was still forming itself that since the tap trickles so slowly, why not simply keep it open and let the sap dribble continuously?  Then the issue of waiting politely for five minutes for each person to get his portion would no longer be an issue.  With a tree of this immense size we could certainly be sure not to drain it with a simple continuous trickle and any loss of water the tree may sustain it would gather back straight through its roots.  And one can only imagine the fertilization properties of that mysterious sugar which has made us wiser and confounded those who have tried to categorize it.

As this plan was taking shape, many rubbed their chins thoughtfully, some nodded sagely, a few stared at the grass, and one man, a grade school teacher bit his nails.  Her presentation was met with positive reception.  A postman wondered about the ground and potential issues of drainage and eventually it was decided the best course of action would be to remove the grass and the circle of benches temporarily and line the periphery with gravel.  Over the gravel they would bring in and layer those beautifully white and smooth round stones from the local beach.  They would also extend the circle into a kidney shape down the slight slope past the eastern benches and onto the great lawn to ornament the western view and deal with any remaining drainage issues.

When the work was completed, the wrought iron benches were replaced with bronze benches designed by a local sculptor and they somehow captured the satisfying comfort of turning the tap handle.  He also fashioned a beautiful bronze drip plate for below the tap that split the slow trickle into three directions for maximum drainage. 

That year had been a most remarkable one, one that would become defining for the village.  It was a year of both beauty and wisdom which is a rare convergence for any people.  That spring saw the ground become richer than ever before.  Robins pulled densely fortified worms from the grass surrounding the white stones of the landscaping surrounding the great tree.  The birds themselves were more vibrant that year, even the yellow warblers and the myrtle warblers.  The crows were iridescent, and when spotted, the evening foxes were a glorious red with full bushy tails.  That summer lavender and blue flowers carpeted the lower portion of the white rocks.  The grass of the great lawn had a deeper and richer hue.  And in the evenings that summer, the local harpist played to the sunset in reds and blues.

Many wise statements were made that year beneath the boughs with goblet in hand.  In April, the nail biting teacher declared that the structures of life are less mechanical than fluid.  In June, the owner of the carpet mill declared that if the rich did not have wealth than people would not have the opportunity to excel in labor and in life.  The chief civil engineer of the county proclaimed that successful human progress depends on balance, ingenuity and perseverance.  There were many other moments of wisdom until the trickle stopped.

For a few days many discussed its meaning and a few days later the discussion stopped.  After a few weeks the discussion started again when people started to notice that the leaves of the great maple seemed to become paler and more brittle.  They became alarmed when the points of those leaves began to brown and curl upward like little skeleton fingers.  And the last wise thing that anyone said beneath those boughs was when the community groundskeeper looked up at the massive tree and said, “Well, what’re we gonna do if it dies and them big branches up there start to rot and fall down.  That’d be dangerous.”  When he said that, everyone knew that the original plan proposed to them, the one they agreed to even though each one knew in his heart was wrong, was a really stupid idea.

Garbage Day

Garbage Day

The starling paced back and forth on the windowsill making a low clucking sound, his bill catching here and there on the screen.  Mostly it rushed from one end of the sill to the other but sometimes it only made it midway before it stopped and pushed its head into the screen and darted back to the point at which it started.  Mark felt bad for the thing in its panic and wanted to lift the screen and let it out but he knew how John felt about the bird and didn’t know what to do.

Anyone who met Mark and John assumed they were father and son.  They were both 5’6” and lean with wide set blue eyes and had an affable stoop to their shoulders.  Both were amiable and soft spoken and both liked the Mets and the Jets.  John was appropriately older than Mark to be his father, but they were not related at all.  Neither had children and neither had been married, both for no other reason than it just never happened.  And even though they conveniently wore the same size clothes and shoes, they never borrowed or shared.

                They met when Mark was in his late thirties and John was in his late fifties working for a fence contractor, Daley Brothers Fencing.  They spent long work days setting posts, securing panels and prying rocks.  And they spent short evenings at the Shamrock Tavern drinking Utica Club in eight ounce glasses.  In 1973, they got a good deal to rent the second floor of a two-family house, and since neither was with a woman at the time, they moved in together and lived there for many years.

                Those years were good as both men didn’t need anyone and if they ever did they had each other.  Neither had any family.  Mark came from Pittsfield with a girl, leaving a shit brother and a crazy mother, but he was not so clear on John.  He knew that when John was younger he did a couple years in jail but never knew what it was for.  The past for the two of them consisted of referencing old jobs and shitty bosses with some good ones that failed.  Days of work if they were on the same crew consisted hard work and if there was discussion it involved current events such as sports or headline disasters.   They worked hard through the end of October or maybe even into November and then they’d get laid off by the company.  They’d live without issue on what they’d saved and on unemployment until the thaw of mid-March.  They’d spend a lot of days at noon talking with some neighbors, disabled and retired, about hunting and fishing and sometimes would actually get out in the woods or on the ice.  But both were solitary figures moving through life at a fixed distance, twin compasses as it were.  Many afternoons had the simple joys of smoking some weed with a friend and throwing darts in the living room. 

                The two were well-known fixtures for a while playing in the local dart league, but after some years John had less vigor than in the past and had to quit working at the fence company.  He was eligible for social security by then and Mark still had enough pay to keep them secure in rent.   They still lived comfortably never wanting for food, beer, or weed, but a combination of age, anger and money had John give up on darts as well.  He went to the bar less and less frequently and eventually never went there again.  The exponential spaces between his last visits were so precise it seemed as if they were planned and people had forgotten about him rather easily.  Few remembered to inquire to Mark about John’s absence and when he would return again and Mark would give his habitually evasive answers and finish by saying wryly, “I don’t know.  He just moved out.”

                Days that Mark went to work, John got in the habit of the noontime kibitzing with the neighbors Phil and Pete.  They would often go down to the park and sit by the river and Pete would brag about his Guard days in California and then run to his wife’s car when she pulled up.  If Phil didn’t drink too much he would talk about shooting turkeys.  Pretty soon, John’s patience began to wane and he spent less and less time meeting them with the same precision as his disappearance from the bar and Mark soon had to answer he neighbors’ questions with the same wry, “I don’t know.  He just moved out.”

                Their landlord owned three adjacent two-family houses and the garages behind.  There were no yards, but a large parking lot that spanned across the three lots.  In the back of the lot sat a blue dumpster that all the tenants used since there was a double driveway that accommodated easily a backing truck and it avoided the nuisance of dozen garbage cans.  During a hot evening in May, Mark was putting out the trash and he saw a small bird next to the dumpster.  When it saw him it immediately fluttered its wings and began to call loudly.  He threw his bag into the dumpster and looked at its wide open yellow beak.  It had wisps of down around its crown and continued to flutter its wings and call plaintively.  “Poor little guy, no mother?” he said as he straightened himself and looked around.  He shaded his eyes and squinted at a bird on the telephone wire but then it flew off.   He shrugged lightly to no one and headed back into the house and up the stairs to his apartment.  

                Mark walked through the kitchen into the living room and John was still in his chair watching the ball game.  “Anything yet?” he asked.

“Nah.  But it’s about time they got fuckin’ Darling in again.  Two fuckin’ losses.  And a win.”  John took a short sip of his beer with his eyes never leaving the television.

“We’ll get ‘em again tonight.”  Mark paused and started to take his shoes off.  “There was a bird out there…”

“The announcer mentioned all those assholes got killed playing soccer today.  You hear?  What do you mean a bird?”  John turned himself around in his chair and Mark paused with his shoe.

“A bird.  A young one I think.  It was making a racket at me out there.”

“Was it alone?  You left it there?”

“I don’t know…it looked alone.  What the fuck am I supposed to do?  Take it from its parents?”

John got up and shuffled to the window and looked at an angle towards the dumpster.  In the shadow of the corner of the dumpster, he saw a small object.  In the sunlit driveway he saw a black and white cat fixated on that same spot, its shoulders moving fluidly as it crept toward the bird.  “Well, what the fuck, you gonna let Phil’s cat kill it?” he yelled wildly back at Mark.  “Get out there and stop that thing!”

“Jesus fuck.”  Mark pressed his heel back down into his shoe and shuffled down the stairs and into the driveway.  The cat was about three yards away from the bird and as soon as Mark stepped into the driveway its pace towards the dumpster quickened.  “Hey, Sylvester,” he yelled taking a couple of quick strides towards the cat.  Sylvester snapped out of a trance, looked wildly back at Mark and darted off behind his own house.  Relieved, Mark trotted over to the little bird and cupped him in both hands.  As he turned to head inside, Phil weaving slightly called him from the doorway, “What’s a’matter Sylvester?”

“Nothing, Phil.  He’s just gonna kill this bird an’all,” he said gesturing with his cupped hands.

“Well…ain’t that what he’s supposed to do?”  Phil started to laugh with his belly and gave a little cough.   “Sides,” he waved his hand downward as he turned back into his house, “all they do is eat his food out here.  He had it coming.”

John sat more animated than Mark had seen him in a long time with the fluttering bird in his palm.  “Look at him,” he said of the fledgling.  “Look at his head.  He looks like an old man!”  The bird stopped calling and shut his beak with a glowering countenance, a ring of wispy feathers around his head.  “Old man!  He’s a little old man.” 

The bird spoke up again.

“He’s hungry.  He needs food.”

“I’ll get him some worms.”

“How do you know he eats worms?”

“All birds eat worms.”

“Not all fucking birds eat worms.”

“Yes they do.”

“Fucking robins eat worms.  Other birds eat seeds.”

“So we’ll get him seeds.”

“What if he doesn’t eat seeds?”

“Jesus fuck.  Then I’ll get him worms.  Wait, Phil said they eat his cat food.”

“Fucking birds eating fucking cat food?”

“Yes, fucking birds eating fucking cat food.  I’ll go get some.”

“Get it from Phil.  He needs it now.”

“Jesus fuck, John.  I’m not gonna get cat food from Phil.  You haven’t talked to him in two years.  I’ll go in the morning before work.  He’ll be fine ‘till then.”

“Who knows the last time he ate?  He’s starving now, the poor old man.”

The bird started up again.

“Just go ask him for some food.  His cat almost killed this bird.”

“Jesus fuck.”

Mark went back downstairs quietly entered the parking lot with an eye on Phil’s windows and grabbed a handful of cat food out of the bowl on the steps and went quickly back into his own house.  He handed John the kibble and John said, “Aren’t these too big for him?  I don’t want him to choke.”

“Maybe you should chew them up and puke them into his mouth like his mom.”

John nodded sagely, bit a piece in half with his teeth and with his fingers fed the baby who eagerly swallowed it.  “Jesus fuck,” said Mark. 

Over the next month, the Old Man lost his friar’s crown and grew into a nice steel gray.  He sat mostly on a towel on the arm of John’s chair and slept on an old hat rack that had been in Mark’s closet since they moved in.  They kept a towel underneath that as well.  Mark would complain about the extra towels he had to wash every week when he did their laundry in the basement, but it was only two extra.  But he did mean it when he complained about the bird when it would fly onto his TV tray to grab a French fry or fly into the kitchen to lick ketchup or open the bag for potato chips.

“Goddamn John, can’t you keep Old Man in here? I don’t need his fucking bird shit in the kitchen,” he had yelled several times. 

The bird flew back to John where John chuckled, his hand and chin with a newly noticeable but slight palsy.  “You can’t tell an Old Man what to do.”

Over the next year the Old Man developed a purple sheen with green and blue and speckles and a profoundly yellow bill and an impressive perspicacity that even Mark began to appreciate.  And while the bird ate from his own bowl, it became harder and harder for John to get to his own.  But he did.  It was only sometimes it seemed to Mark that he needed to help him get to bed or the bathroom.  He took care of most of his own meals but forgot to clean up the kitchen, so most of the time Mark’s complaints about “fucking Old Man shitting” were complaints directed at a bird with an outlet for John to chuckle and say, “You can’t tell Old Man what to do.”

It happened to be another hot evening in late May that Mark returned from work and saw John sleeping in his chair.  If you asked Mark today, he wouldn’t be able to tell you if Keith Hernandez hit anything or even if the Mets were on the television at all.  He walked in as quietly as he was used to, trying to let both old men relax.  He looked over and saw Old Man on John’s collarbone, his head twisted at an unusual angle, and the bird was pecking and licking at the fluid coming from his nose.  “Jesus fuck,“ Mark said as he chased the bird off to his hat rack perch.  Then he knew.

John’s eyes were half closed and did not seem pained.  He was simply there inanimate, his left hand slightly clenched, his feet flat on the floor.  Mark held his own face with his left hand and put his right on John’s shoulder.  He sat there like that for some time.

It was dark and Mark had to make a decision.  The last thing John would ever want is an ambulance flashing lights in front of the house until three in the morning while the neighbors came out and gawked at him in a body bag, gossiping and fretting over someone they didn’t care about.  And he certainly didn’t care about them.  Ambulance?  Along with an ambulance, they’d drive a whole fucking fire truck down the narrow street with one half on the sidewalk, rocking back and forth during the dips for driveways, as if corpses may spontaneously explode.  Police, firemen, crooked EMTs tracking dirt through the house.  The bird?  The weed? He didn’t have a car to drive him to the hospital or the morgue.  Who even knows where the morgue is?  As he was pacing back and forth, Old Man flew over and perched on John’s chair.  “And what the fuck am I going to do with you?” John asked and looked out the window to where he discovered the small bird.  “Tomorrow’s Thursday.  Garbage day.”

John, wrapped in a sheet, fit fairly easily into an oversized contractor waste bag and Mark found it surprisingly easy to lug him down the stairs like a lean and overburdened Santa Claus.  John was his size and they were both notoriously lean, but John had lost weight over the past few years.  It was past midnight and completely quiet and still behind the house.  He waited for any sound at all, then with increasing strain from the burden waddled across the lot, turned his back to the open dumpster and heaved John’s body onto the rim and relieved himself of the weight.  After a breath he turned himself around and let the body fall in.  He didn’t bother to cover it with other trash because he figured the truck would be there within five hours and it’d be best if the rest of the trash covered the body when dumped into the truck.  Sweating profusely with heaving breaths, Mark stretched himself straight and looked around the lot.  There were no lights and there was no sound.

He pulled a chair over to the window and sat the rest of the night watching the dumpster, thinking.  He smoked and drank and thought and chuckled about when he would have to respond, “I don’t know.  He just moved out.”  Old man was sleeping on his hat rack.  The house and the neighborhood were incredibly silent, an appropriate silence, the silence of death.  He was happy when he thought of how terrible that parade would have been, how angry John would be.  How happy John would be about this, he would chuckle and say something shitty about Pete and his wife and that screaming foster mom down the road.  They got nothing from him at all.  And as he sat there the rest of the night he considered logistics: send back unopened security checks and if they ever inquired, “I don’t know.  He just moved out.”; If anyone ever asked about him again, “I don’t know.  He just moved out.”  And he was nervous about a garbage discovery but it was worth it to think of John’s chuckle.  He didn’t have anyone anyway, so if he got caught and went to jail, who would he have to worry about?  Only that stupid Old Man.

When the sky began to show some light, the time when birds rouse and twitter, he heard in the distance the diesel and rumble of the garbage truck through the neighborhood.  He heard the compression brakes and the shift into reverse and its accompanying beeping.  The truck backed into view as the driver deftly slid the forks into the brackets of the dumpster.  In one fluid motion the dumpster was raised and turned and all of its contents fell into the waiting container.  At that point Old Man flew to the sill and began to try to get through the screen.

Mark sat for several minutes after the truck was gone, fascinated by this bird who had shunned open windows in the past.  He felt its distress but didn’t want to open the screen because he knew how John felt about the bird.  “Here, buddy. Here, here.” He opened the screen and Old Man flew out.  The bird flew towards the empty dumpster but turned and landed on the peak of one of the garages.  It preened itself in the growing sunshine as Mark watched through the open window.  When he sighed and stood and shut the screen, Old Man immediately flew back to the sill.  Relieved, he opened the screen and the bird flew to his hat rack.

May 2016 (draft)

Corvus Saga

Corvus Saga

1          There was a warrior named Einar Raven-Eye who fought for King Harald.  Einar was a fierce fighter who was known as a berserk and he was valued for his intelligence and gifts in versification.  His people were said to be from Turkland, descended from the lands of Odin himself, which explained his abilities as a fighter and a poet.  He had thick, black hair and he was called Raven-Eye because he never looked straight.

            When King Harald Tangle-Hair had conquered all of Norway and became King Harald Fair-Hair, he settled with his army at Fjordane.  Einar was with him then.  He valued Einar as one of his strongest warriors and at times they would speak in confidence.  It is said that Einar gave Harald news from afar, even though he spent most of his time right alongside him. 

One evening Harald summoned Einar to him.  "You have served me as no other with your ferocity in battle and your knowledge of things that cannot be seen.  I would like you to remain with me, but I have had a dream that if you stay in my service a great number of terrible occurrences will happen.  Therefore, it is time for you to leave Norway.  You will take a ship and thirty men and sail from here tomorrow.  Great wealth and fame will come to you and your future sons," he said.  Einar told the king he would do as the king wished.

            The next day Einar recited a drottkvaet he had composed about King Harald, and the king was very pleased when Einar sailed away.

2          Einar and his men spent several years raiding in Ireland and Scotland and did not return to Norway because of Harald’s words.  In the sixth summer of his plundering, Einar’s ship was heavy with wealth and he was eager to take residence in Iceland as he had heard good news about the place.  He and his men discussed wintering in Iceland before they raided their last village.

            A man called Klepp the Quick had been sent ashore in the Hebrides to search out prospects for the crew.  He returned two nights later with a deep wound to his shoulder and good news. 

“I traveled along a stream that led from the shore into the hills, and after the first night, I encountered three men and a boy busy at a pool.  At first sight of me, the men looked quickly to each other and then rushed at me.  They were slow and poorly armed and I quickly cut them down, but the moment the three had me busy, the boy ran from the side and gave me this arm present with a small axe.  He was a brave boy, and it took a lot of work to get him to show me where his village was located.  It is a day and  half away east of the stream pool and is surrounded by  a stockade.  They have been raided in the past, but not for awhile.”  Klepp was given care and rest, but his arm never would be the same again.

            Einar and twenty of his crew assembled quickly and set off to reach the village in the middle of the night.  The trip took as long as Klepp had claimed and there was a full moon, so visibility was good.  There seemed to be no one guarding the entrance and no lookouts posted, so Einar walked up to the open entranceway to see how it was guarded.  All he found was a small cairn fitted with sticks to look like a man.  The buildings were quiet and it seemed that all were sleeping inside.  Einar informed his crew that this was the time to make their move and they quickly set on the buildings, killing any who they wanted.  After much of the activity had quieted and Einar had a chance to take stock of the situation, he heard an outburst of yelling and laughing.  He went over to its source, behind a small building partially on fire and saw six of his men cornering a young woman.  Two of his men were dead at her feet, and his other crew were yelling in waves of both anger and joy, trying to get the axe from her.  As Einar approached, he saw Berg, a strong fighter and great eater, step forward. The woman cleaved him right through the head with her axe.  He fell dead and the axe was lodged so the woman could not pull it out.  At this point, the men saw Einar.  They fell silent and stood still as he entered their circle.  He was an impressive character.

            The young woman was grunting and trying hard to relieve Berg of her weapon, but stopped and stood still when she saw Einar.  She had great arms, blood on her face, and blue eyes that shone in the dark like a cat’s.  Einar went to her and grabbed her thick arm and walked her away and her fighting was done.  He found out soon that she had no tongue and decided to take her as his bride to Iceland because of her bravery and mystery.  He called her Freda the Silent.  The next morning, before leaving the village, Einar spoke this verse:

1.

Brightly, head jewels burn in

Blue flame.  With no name and

Beautiful body oars, she

Rows in Odin’s blood sea,

Cresting many.  Missing

Mead palate, she speeds me

Towards a bloodless tomorrow;

Toil no more now will I.

That year, Einar settled in Iceland and built a great hall that has received many visitors, who have all spoken favorably of their time there. 

3          Einar and Freda had four children.  Thorvald, the first, died of coughing when he was six.  A year after Thorvald, a girl named Helga was born and then another girl named Hersa.  Then came Halldor, nicknamed Wiggle Eye.  As he grew, he soon began to look like his father in both his build and expressions, but he had his mother’s blond hair.  He was well liked by all who encountered him as a child and a young man.  When Halldor was fifteen he wanted to go raiding for the summer and approached his father with the subject. 

Einar said, “Do I think it is advisable for you to leave at this age and go to raiding?  As your father I do not.  But, a father must not make decisions because he likes to have his son nearby.  You will set off with Arinbjorn when he leaves for the summer and you will return after three winters.”  After he left, Halldor did not see his father again because Einar died when he was fishing alone and his boat was caught in a storm that was not anticipated.

4          There was a man named Bjarni Kleppsson who lived near Staumfjord.  He was a wealthy man who had built a great hall when he arrived in Iceland from Norway because he would not pay honor to King Harald.  He was known to be generous to visitors, but when he drank he would make his opinions known to most people in his company.  

Bjarni had a daughter named Helga.  She was a girl of beauty and a desirable match to many men, but she had not found a man she agree would to marry.

            Arinbjorn and Halldor landed at Staumfjord after their second summer of raiding and met with Bjarni.  Bjarni said that he had heard good things about Einar and his hall, and invited the two and their group to come to his great hall on the first night of their meeting. 

When they arrived, all were asked to leave their weapons at the main door of the hall.  At the time when food and drink was served, Arinbjorn, Halldor and their men were seated at a table with Bjarni at the head and ten of his people.  Introductions were given.  Mutton was served in great mass and everyone ate heartily.  Much beer was then presented and everyone became quite drunk.  As they were drinking more and more men arrived until the hall was quite full of confusion and merry making. 

            Bjarni spoke mostly to Halldor, and Arinbjorn listened quietly and drank slowly.  Bjarni was in good spirits and spoke proudly of his possessions and accomplishments and it took a long time for him to start questioning Halldor. 

“I have heard that Einar has great wealth and settled in Iceland with heavy boats,” said Bjarni.  “Did he come by this wealth from raiding or family?” 

“My father was one of King Harald’s greatest warriors.  He was asked to leave the king’s presence because of a dream-omen and he raided for many years before settling in Iceland,” replied Halldor. 

Bjarni roused himself and said, “Harald and his warriors drove me from Norway with their greed and wrecklessness.  I am happier here than in Norway.  The farther I am from Tangle-Locks, the better.” 

Arinbjorn became enraged and said, “Your hall may be big, but your mouth gapes like a whale-shark’s.”  The hall became quiet and tense and Halldor intervened.

            Halldor said, “My father fought for King Harald and would be angry at your words.  I am his son and these are his men, but we need not anticipate his reaction when he is not present.  Arinbjorn is close with my father and he is protective of our name.  I feel you have anger in losing to Harald, but do not direct your insults at us.” 

Bjarni agreed without much thought and called for more drink, making sure that Arinbjorn’s horn was topped off.  The rest of the night progressed without incident.

The next day, Bjarni asked if Halldor and his men would stay the winter, and Halldor and Arinbjorn both agreed.

5          Soon after Halldor and his group had settled in, Halldor saw Helga and immediately began to question about her.  When Bjarni learned of his interest, he said Halldor was a fine match, but Helga had never chosen a man who was suggested to her.  Bjarni expressed his love for his daughter and said he wouldn’t force her to marry unless she wanted to.  A meeting was arranged.

            When Halldor and Helga were together, they looked like brother and sister.  They were both handsome and had the same blonde hair.  Helga was fascinated with the way Halldor’s eye would rattle when he looked at something with intensity.  They spent much time together, and it was soon arranged that Halldor would return after the next year of raiding and the two would be married. 

            He arrived on schedule and the two were married and had a great banquet.  Bjarni was given a great deal of wealth from Halldor and was pleased when Halldor took Helga and his men to return home.

6          Halldor and Helga had only one child.  The child was called Einar because Halldor was still upset at the death of his father.  He became upset again when Helga died three days after she gave birth.  Halldor was stricken with illness and died three weeks after.  The baby was cared for by Freda and grew up quickly.

When he was five years old, Einar was small for his age, but very strong and a good talker.  He had black hair, a thin nose and blue eyes.  Everyone who saw Einar remarked on his eyes and some people were frightened of them.  He had several nicknames.  He was called most often Little Raven Eye because he had the habit of his grandfather of never looking straight.  Einar was often defiant as a child and many times minded only Freda.  He caused many problems.

One day, Einar approached a slave called Kleg who was cutting wood outside his home.  Einar indicated by nodding and pointing that he wanted to try out the axe.  He decided he didn’t want to use his voice.  Kleg let Einar take the axe and tried to help him with his stroke, but Einar chopped at the wood with fury.  He cut successfully through a thick log but came close to chopping off his own foot several times.  Kleg tried to intervene and Einar hit Kleg in the foot, cutting clean through to the ground.  While Kleg was on the ground, Einar recited this verse.

2.

Weilder of the wood bleeder,

My body boughs broke leg

Roots.  I feel I’ll fight like

Freyja’s husband, vying

Words in a sword wind to speak

When battle trees are whipped

And cleaved, leaving me alone,

Watching body sap drip.

Freda forced Einar to apologize, and compensated the slave for his loss.

8          Arinbjorn had a son named Grimr who was roughly the same age as Einar.  When Einar was seventeen, he was still causing trouble and was unpopular with many people because of his challenging verse.  Grimr disliked Einar and they would banter frequently.  Rarely, it came to blows.  Once, while the two were in a ball game Grimr was a little rough with Einar, and Einar stated this verse.

3.

Pushy hose harnesses you

Have, who ought take flight when

Storm fists surge from fury,

Reforming gruesome face shores.

Watch, for flood steeds  riding

Ruin well a sand nose.

Stop groping snake stranglers, for

Soon they will squirm broken.

            Grimr responded, “You speak as if with two tongues, one in your mouth and another in your grandmother’s.”

            Einar was not tall, but he had much strength and set on Grimr quickly.  In a moment he had Grimr on the ground and his thumb all the way into Grimr’s eye socket.  The other men that were near watched Einar get off Grimr as he lay on the ground yelling and holding his face.  Einar said, “Dead you would be, remember.”  Then, he walked away.  Grimr’s eye came back, but was unsightly for a few weeks.

            After that incident, Einar decided he didn’t want to use his voice very much and when he spoke he did so only in verse.  He spent much time with Freda and neglected most other company.  They would walk together and often sit in silence.  Einar would help Freda with her tasks but did little else.  He would often disappear and no one would know his whereabouts.

            There was a skald named Bjorn who was famous for his knowledge of verse and respected for his kennings.  He was interested in Einar, whose verse making and lack of talk was well known to others.  He approached Einar while he was sitting alone on a rock near the water.

            “You spend much time with your grandmother or alone, Einar.  I think your verse is of fine quality and would like to discuss with you technique,” said Bjorn.  Einar did not respond and kept looking out at the water. Bjorn stood for a while and then left.  For three weeks, Bjorn thus attempted to discuss verse with Einar and Einar ignored his advances.

            One morning Bjorn followed Einar as he walked off along a stream.  Einar knew that Bjorn was behind him, but kept walking anyway.  He walked through the morning until he reached a ledge that overlooked a valley.  He sat and looked out into the air and watched some ravens that were flying below.  Bjorn waited a long time before he approached him.

            “Einar, I see that you like to be alone.  I would like to speak with you about your verse making.  I have heard your speech and regard it highly.  You have Odin’s gift and I believe I can help you to advance your skills.  That is all I want to accomplish; we do not need to be friends,” said Bjorn.

            Einar turned his head toward Bjorn at a strange angle and looked past him as he spoke this verse.

4.

Schooled I am in skaldic

Scansion; steeped in Odin’s

Blood drink my brain.  Beyond

Blue head lanterns like I

Little illuminated, and lo,

Language bereft of craft

Stops the mind’s ear, soundless,

Silent with its own noise.

Bjorn paused and responded, “Watcher of Hunnin and Munnin, you are bathed in Kvasi’s gore and ride in the ship of the Dwarves.  You can win fame and wealth in the courts of great men, but you seem to be lacking great god lore.  Speak with me as I may sip from your Dwarves' mead and you may better rig your word-ship.”

            Einar paused for a few minutes and then said, “I have no use for courts and I have no use for praise, given or received.  If I needed to flatter in order to save my own head, let them have it if they want it so badly.  But, much I would like to discuss poetry with you.  You will help me to perch upon the shoulders of giants.” 

            Einar and Bjorn spent much time together that year discussing poetry and language.  Bjorn knew Latin and began to call his new associate Einar Corvus.  Although the two did not agree on everything they spoke, they gained a great deal from the company they kept.

8          The next year, Einar wanted to lead a trading expedition to England and gathered thirty men, including Arinbjorn and Grimr because they were two of the most valuable men around.  They were to take stockfish, furs, and other valuables to trade for cloth.  The ship was well painted and could carry a great load.  During the days leading up to the voyage, Einar worked long hours preparing and spent the rest of the time sitting with Freda in silence.  When the expedition was embarking and Einar embraced Freda; he held her for a long time.  Those present remarked that the blue of her eyes increased in intensity.  After Einar was gone, no one saw Freda for three days.

            The trip to England was a success.  As they were about to leave England, Einar said, “The men we dealt with here were good at bargaining and we need this cloth.  I have heard that the Lapps value this cloth and will pay for it more than what we were willing.  If this is true, we should trade some of the cloth with them and return with cloth and the same amount of valuables we traded.” 

It was decided that they should bring the cloth to Finnmark and trade with the Lapps.  This was risky business because only certain people were permitted by the king to take tribute from the Lapps.  It was late in the season, too, so they needed to make haste.  After several days of searching the coast, they saw some Lapps up an incline.  They were far away and would not come towards the shore.

            “I will row ashore and will go to them alone,” said Einar.  Arinbjorn did not think it wise.  “They will flee if we send a party because they do not know our intentions.  If I row ashore alone, I am fleet of foot and will catch up with them.  I will bring some English cloth with me and they will want to trade, and we will gain immense profit from the deal,” said Einar.

            “You should take another with you and if there is trouble with those reindeer guides, one can return and get help,” said Arinbjorn.  Einar agreed and Grimr volunteered to accompany him.

            The two arrived on shore and the Lapps disappeared over the hill.  “We must run and catch up with them, Grimr.  Let’s go.”  Both men ran full speed to the top of the hill and saw the Lapps traveling away, but they had already closed the gap immensely.  Einar paused and said, “Look, Grimr, back towards the ship.  There are three ships on the horizon with red and black sails.  Those must be the representatives of the king and they will not be happy with our presence.  You run back and warn the ship.  I will run forward and see if I can arrange something with those who flee from us.”

            While Grimr was running downhill, he slipped and abused himself well by rolling over the rocks.  When he arrived at the ship, his head was bleeding and it looked as if he had survived an attack.  “There are several ships we saw from the hill on their way towards us with full sail.  They are the king’s men and there were some with the Lapps.  Einar reached them first and was killed right in front of me.  I was able to fight well enough for my escape.  We must leave right away.”

            “This is terrible news, but good as well.  If we cannot yet see those ships we have time to cut our losses and get out of here.  Yet, we have lost a great man,” said Arinbjorn.

            Before winter, they sailed back to Iceland without incident.  Except for Grimr Arinbjornson, they were saddened at the loss of Einar, but happy with a successful trading voyage.

9          Einar caught up with the Lapps and though they were apprehensive, they were happy to see the cloth and seemed eager to do business.  Einar indicated he would return and ran back to the promontory where he had left Grimr.  He saw his own ship sailing away with full sails and saw no sign of the three others.  He then spoke this verse.

5.

Liars will I kill;

Lapp now I am.

10        There was a man named Onund, son of Berg of Halgoland.  He was a landowner and close with the king, so close that he was awarded rights to deal with the Lapps.  Onund had quite a good rapport with them, speaking their language and made great profits trading in Lapp goods.  He was a fair man, but very protective of his rights.

            One day, Onund and his group were skirting the coast in search of bands with which to make contact, when he spied a man alone on the shore.  Immediately, he sent three men to interview the interloper and find out who he was and what his purpose was.  The three men returned with the stranger to the longship. 

            The three men looked confused and Onund quickly approached the stranger, who, in turn, addressed Onund in Lapp language.  Onund replied, “You speak Lapp.  Yet, you speak it with a strange tongue and do not look like one; nor do you look like a Viking.  Speak up in your most comfortable tongue and tell me who you are and why you are in this land which is neither yours, nor mine.  But, mine to protect.”

            “I am Einar Crow Caller.  I was stranded six years ago and have lived with the Lapp called Hladik the Empty.  I have come to the shore summoning you, as it is time for me to return to Iceland and take revenge upon those that have left me for dead.  They know not the life they have given me through death,” stated Einar.

            “You do not stand tall, your hair is matted and black, your eyes burn blue and you dress as a Lapp witch doctor.  Regardless of these oddities, I should kill you for the way you speak.  You did not summon me.  That is a lie and insult for which I should use your tongue as a purse,” replied Onund.  Einar took his time with his reply.

            “Two years have I known your face through the eyes of birds and seals.  You know the ones that pass closely, rest on your rigging and take seeds from your palm.  The seals you’ve seen portside, sitting shoulder high as they slide below the surface staring you in the face.  One you took a spear to, paused and did not throw.  Nor did you let your men.  That is why I know you will not kill me.  Nor I you, ignoring the tongue threat,” he said.

            “You speak of memories that I have, Einar the Black Eye.  Some memories might be guessed at like a common soothsayer, or an uncommon one.  But that seal seemed strange and was in my dreams.  I have not been summoned by you, but perhaps you did seek me.  You will not die by my hand at this time, but you are now to stay with me as I see fit.  Do not make future plans other than death,” replied Onund. 

            “You will take me to Iceland,” said Einar without speaking.  The ship moved on after that.

11        One day, a longship pulled into the harbor at Fredasfjord.  A small delegation from the longship approached some men working at curing fish.

            “I am Onund, son of Berg of Halgoland and this is Hallfred, son of Steinvor.  We have been sailing and come ashore to seek some hospitality and trade stories.  If this is the location of the hall built by Einar Raven Eye, I feel lucky to land in such a historic place,” said the largest man in the group.         

            “This is just that place, and right you are to feel that way.  The matron of our estate is Freda the Silent, but she does not take to visitors as she is not one for speaking.  Arinbjorn Harekson and his son Grimr Arinbjornson both do her bidding and are usually very happy to welcome guests.  They like to hear news from afar,” said one of the men working.

            “That we have,” said Onund, “and eager we are to meet with these two.”

            That night, in the great hall of Einar Raven Eye, a feast was prepared and much drink was present.  The whole of Onund’s ship was invited to the festivities, but some men remained behind.  “Some of the men have tasks to do,” explained Onund to Grimr Arinbjornson, “but I know of one who may want to join us later as I can send for him.”

            “Any of your men may come, as has been said,” replied Grimr, proud to provide.

            They stayed up late into the night and many stories were traded.  Arinbjorn allowed all the men to carry their weapons with them “because never has there been a fight in this hall.”  Onund then pressed with questions about the raiding and trading expeditions of Arinbjorn and his men.  He also pressed with questions about the surviving sons of Einar.  Arinbjorn was mindful of the king’s people in Halgoland and was careful not to mention their attempted trading with the Lapps, to make sure there were no hard feelings. 

            When Onund had gotten the information he wanted he said, “Why don’t we send for another of our men and see if he is ready to join us?  Hrafn, please go fetch our skald and see if he will compose some verse for our hosts.”

            “That sounds excellent.  We have been with a profound lack of verse for these past six years,” said Arinbjorn.

            A little while later, there was a small commotion by the entranceway and Hrafn was seen walking through the crowd with a man of smaller stature behind him.  It only took only a few seconds for everyone to realize that Einar had returned, and by that time, Einar had a sword out and cleaved Arinbjorn right through the head, spilling blood and brains on the table. 

Grimr was enraged, swinging at Einar with blows that were both hard and accurate.  During the melee, Einar lost two fingers on his left hand from the chops.  He kicked Grimr in the knee, cracking the bone, and cleaved him in the neck, almost severing the head completely.  When his body slumped, Einar finished the job by cutting the head clean off and tossing it into the center of the hall, where it bounced from a table, hitting Olaf Atlison square in the chest.  All present remained in their spots, silent.  No one reacted and Einar spoke this verse.

6.

Let deceivers drain their blood

Like reindeer ripped in rut.

For revenge,  I claim the limbs

Of unlucky liars and onlookers

That get in my way.

Einar would not allow the customary burial and disappeared the next day with the corpses.  He returned later that day in a small boat.  No one knows what he did with the two and no one pressed him on this matter, but it is thought that Freda rebuked him in her way for the killing of Arinbjorn.

.

12        Arinbjorn had a wife named Steingerd.  She was the daughter of Brynjolf, the son of Ottar of Thatfjord.  She wanted Einar to pay for the deaths of her husband and son and spoke to many in confidence trying to get Einar to answer at the Allthing in the coming summer.  Almost every person with whom she spoke with told her that both Arinbjorn and Grimr said Einar was dead when he was not and they had it coming for leaving him.  Einar had a reputation now, and many people avoided him.  Many said that litigation would be fruitless.

            A man named Klevi from Thatfjord listened closely to Steingerd.  “With your husband and son wrongfully slain,” he said, “you deserve compensation.  If not in payment of gold, it should be in the form of blood.  For many years I have known your family and have watched you grow into a woman and wife and mother.  We are both aging, so I will not lie.  I may be turning white, but I desire you and desire to be your enactor.  My wealth may not equal Einar’s, but it is more than the compensation he would be forced to pay.  You could be rewarded with a husband, wealth, and the death of he who caused you suffering.  That sounds like a good deal to me.”

            “I have thought about this, Klevi, you are the man to help me.  Einar is dangerous, but he is also strange.  More than when he was young, he is taken to be alone and walks off unarmed for great lengths of time.  Many have found him sitting alone amidst the rocks and not moving for hours,” she said.  “If he were encountered in this state, he could be dispatched of easily.”

            “That advice is good,” said Klevi.

13        One afternoon, Einar left on one of his unusual walks.  He left his compound with Freda staring at him from a doorway.  He traveled for several miles to a promontory that he favored and sat down, almost immediately going into a quiet trance.  Farther down the trail that Einar had walked up, Klevi and five other men, all armed, were working their way quietly to the cliff upon which Einar sat.  As they were advancing a raven flew down and made a great of noise above their heads.  Klevi swung at the bird and hurled a stone at it, but it persisted.  As they got closer, the bird made more and more noise and Klevi was worried the racket would betray their intentions. 

            "Ofeig, you and Arnkel go quietly around to the other side of Einar and attack him while he still sits absorbed in himself.  This blood fowl will not leave me for some reason and I worry it is witchcraft from foul Freda."

            When the two left and Klevi and his other two assailants made progress toward Einar, the raven suddenly stopped making noise and flew above their heads, circling.  The two approached Einar, and Klevi and his trio sped up the path.  Ofeig approached the sitting Einar first, but slowed because he was curious about Einar's posture and his lack of movement or attention.  Instead of cleaving Einar as Klevi had wanted, he tried to look at Einar's face.  The raven then attacked Arnkel, causing a great commotion.  When Ofeig looked back, Einar rose quickly and split his face with a heavy stone.  He grabbed Ofeig's short sword and killed him before Arnkel could even react.  Then, in four blows, Arnkel was on the ground bleeding and making terrible noises.

            At this point, Klevi knew there was trouble and ran down the path leaving his three men to face Einar, who was covered in Arnkel's blood.  The first man lost his leg below the calf, and the second was stabbed in the chest.  The third man, who was a few steps behind his partners, struck at Einar a few times, but Einar was berserk and cleaved down the man without much difficulty.  Then, Einar ran down Klevi.  After he overtook him, he chopped off his limbs and beat and bit him until Klevi was dead and he was exhausted.  While lying on the ground near Klevi's remains, Einar spoke this verse.

7.

No longer this land I need,

No longing this life I have.

My thought and memory

Reside in each eye and circle

Above these earth stains.

Let them carry me

With downward pinions

Into chaos.

            Einar left the remains of his attackers where they were slain, except for the head of Klevi, which he removed and brought to the house of Steingerd.  When people saw Einar walking, covered in blood and carrying a head, they stayed away from him.  Einar went to Freda immediately and told her he would prepare a ship and leave Iceland and she would never see him again.  He told her the land was of no use to him and he did not belong to it.  He had heard talk of Greenland and would set to it, or beyond to where he knew not.

14        Einar and the few men aboard his ship traveled for several weeks before they came in contact with land.  The place had timber and game and the men decided they would spend the winter there.  The men built houses and spent a comfortable winter, and some actually grew fat.

            The next spring the men filled the ship with provisions, burned the houses they constructed and continued to sail into summer.  The weather had become quite warm and it was a month before land was spotted.  There were sandy cliffs and seals and porpoises near the shores.  They sailed around a point into a large bay and saw several single log boats with men stripped to britches working the mud with poles.  The men working saw the Viking ship, but did not react to it.

            Einar’s men were eager to go ashore and make contact because they had been on the ship for so long and provisions were very low, but Einar forbade it.  He said he would discover the lay of the land and decide the best approach to the situation.  He ordered that he be shut up below deck for several hours and no one was to make a sound.  When this was done, the men sitting on deck noticed that a crow was flying amongst the gulls by the log boats.  As it circled among the boats, one of the stripped men shot it with an arrow.

            When it became evening the men grew impatient, as Einar had still not surfaced from below deck.  With whispered argument and discussion, Gordi Oddsson took it upon himself to see what was taking Einar so long.  When he opened the hatch, Einar was on his side and listless.  The men did not know what to do, so they brought him on deck and wrapped him in a blanket because he was shivering.  Within a few hours, Einar was dead.  He was burned in a floating funeral pyre.  Here ends this saga.