The Icelandic Canadian - 01.06.1982, Page 22

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THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
SUMMER, 1982
Grettir was bom, under an unlucky star,
in 997, three years before Iceland adopted
Christianity. He knew nothing of Christian
humility or meekness. He was quite in-
capable of turning the other cheek. He was
a pagan to the roots of his being.
“It happens to each according to his
fate.” These words expressed his philos-
ophy of life. He was reputed to be the
bravest, the hardiest and strongest man
who ever lived in Iceland, “nor has the
land seen his like again”. He was also one
of the laziest, the most head-strong and
undisciplined. As Professor Haraldur Bes-
sason has written, “Throughout his life he
showed extraordinary reluctance to submit
to authority of any kind.” In short, he was
outcast from the general rules of life.
As an instance of his strength, the Saga
tells of his picking up a fat bull, destined to
be slaughtered for Christmas, and carrying
it on his shoulders.
Fate never gave him a smile. Many quar-
rels were thrust upon him which he would
gladly have avoided. When he did get into
a fight, his sword sang a greedy war-song.
For his ill-luck in killing many men, he was
outlawed. He lived in Iceland as an outlaw
for over nineteen years; never certain
where he would sleep, or where his next
meal would come from. All these years, he
lived under a supernatural curse, which
made him afraid of the dark. His youngest
brother, Illugi, shared his last years with
him. As the two brothers took their last
leave from their mother, she said to them:
“Now you are going, my two sons, and
you are fated to die together, and no one
can escape the destiny that is shaped for
him. I shall never again see either of you,
and you must share between you what
comes ... I have had some very strange
dreams. Keep clear of sorcerers, for there
are few things stronger than witchcraft.”
When she began to cry, Grettir said,
“Don’t weep, mother, for it will be said
that you bore sons and not daughters, if we
are attacked with weapons. Farewell.”
The brothers met their fate and proved
that they were sons, not daughters, in their
last fight — a fight, which in true saga
tradition, was a fight against overwhelming
odds. Grettir’s effectiveness to give his
best in this last fight was reduced by the
powers of witchcraft. While he was chop-
ping a log, which had been bewitched, his
axe slipped and give him a wound in his leg
which would not heal.
The leader of Grettir’s enemies in his last
fight was a man named Thorbjom Ongul.
After Grettir had been killed in cowardly
fashion, Ongul gave his choice to Illugi,
who was badly wounded, either to be slain
or to promise to do nothing against the
slayers of his brother.
“That might have been worth talking
about,” said Illugi, “if Grettir had been
able to defend himself, and you had over-
come him bravely and openly. It is out of
the question that I might save myself by
becoming a coward like you. I will say
only that no one will be a greater enemy of
yours than I, if I live, for I will be slow to
forget what you have done to Grettir. I
would prefer to die.”
When Ongul told him that in the light of
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