“No,” he answered wistfully, “we are a free folk, who say what we please.”

“But it seems you may not do as you please,” said Helgi.

“Well,” he said, “we may not murder a man just because he offends us.”

“Not even if he has slain your own kin?” asked Helgi.

“No. It is for the…the king to take vengeance on behalf of us all.”

I chuckled. “Your yarns are good,” I said, “but there you’ve hit a snag. How could the king even keep track of all the murders, let alone avenge them? Why, the man wouldn’t even have time to beget an heir!”

He could say no more for all the laughter that followed.

* * *

The next day Gerald went to the smithy, with a thrall to pump the bellows for him. I was gone that day and night, down to Reykjavik to dicker with Hjalmar Broadnose about some sheep. I invited him back for an overnight stay, and we rode into the garth with his son Ketill, a red-haired sulky youth of twenty winters who had been refused by Thorgunna.

I found Gerald sitting gloomily on a bench in the hall. He wore the clothes I had given him, his own having been spoiled by ash and sparks—what had he awaited, the fool? He was talking in a low voice with my daughter.

“Well,” I said as I entered, “how went it?”

My man Grim snickered. “He has ruined two spearheads, but we put out the fire he started ere the whole smithy burned.”

“How’s this?” I cried. “I thought you said you were a smith.”

Gerald stood up, defiantly. “I worked with other tools, and better ones, at home,” he replied. “You do it differently here.”

It seemed he had built up the fire too hot; his hammer had struck everywhere but the place it should; he had wrecked the temper of the steel through not knowing when to quench it. Smithcraft takes years to learn, of course, but he should have admitted he was not even an apprentice.

“Well,” I snapped, “what can you do, then, to earn your bread?” It irked me to be made a fool of before Hjalmar and Ketill, whom I had told about the stranger.

“Odin alone knows,” said Grim. “I took him with me to ride after your goats, and never have I seen a worse horseman. I asked him if he could even spin or weave, and he said no.”

“That was no question to ask a man!” flared Thorgunna. “He should have slain you for it!”

“He should indeed,” laughed Grim. “But let me carry on the tale. I thought we would also repair your bridge over the foss. Well, he can just barely handle a saw, but he nearly took his own foot off with the adz.”

“We don’t use those tools, I tell you!” Gerald doubled his fists and looked close to tears.

I motioned my guests to sit down. “I don’t suppose you can butcher a hog or smoke it either,” I said.