Ugge the Inarticulate now began to stutter and stammer, as he always did when anything excited him. At last, he managed to say that this solution would bring honor to both the Göings and the Virds, and that he himself was prepared to contribute as much as those who had spoken before him.
Two of the Göing representatives, Black Grim and Thorkel Hare-Ear, now cried that the Virds must not be allowed to outdo them in generosity, and that they, too, wished to give a share; and Olof Summerbird said that he saw no reason why other men should have all the honor, and that he therefore proposed to offer twice as much as anyone else.
“And if you take my advice,” he added, “you will gather in the contributions at once, for money melts forth most freely when the flame of giving is still warm. Here is my helmet to collect it in; and you, Toke Gray-Gullsson, being a merchant, will be able to weigh each man’s contribution, to make sure that it is correct.”
Toke sent a slave to fetch his scales, and more and more of the representatives, both Virds and Göings, rose to make their offers; for they saw that they might now win honor cheaply, for the more people contributed, the smaller each man’s gift would have to be. But Olof Summerbird reminded them that nobody had yet heard Gudmund of Uvaberg say how much he and the other kinsmen of Slatte and Agne were prepared to give.
Gudmund rose to his feet with an uncertain expression on his face and said that it was a matter that needed much consideration, for a sixth of the whole sum was a great amount for himself and his kinsmen to find between them.
“No man can call me mean,” he said, “but I am, alas, only a poor farmer, and Orm of Gröning is mistaken in suggesting to you that I am anything else. There is little silver to be found in my house, and I think the same is true of Slatte’s other kinsmen. Such a burden would be too heavy for us to bear. If, however, we were asked to find one half of the sixth, I think we might manage to scrape it together. Here among us sit so many great and famous men, with their belts distended with silver, that they would hardly notice it if they gave another half-sixth, in addition to the third that has already been promised. Do this, and your honor will be increased yet more; and I shall be saved from destitution.”
But at this the judges and representatives and the whole assembly seated at their backs hooted and howled with laughter; for it was well known to all of them that Gudmund’s wealth was only surpassed by his meanness. When he found that he could win no support for his suggestion, he at length yielded; and two men, acting as spokesmen for Agne’s kinsmen, promised that their due share would be paid.
“It would be best,” said Sone to Gudmund, “if you, too, could gather in your share now, since you have, I doubt not, many kinsmen and friends among the assembly here; and I myself will collect the sum due from Agne’s kinsmen.”
By this time Toke’s silver-scales had arrived and he was attempting to calculate how much each man would have to pay.
“Thirteen men have promised to contribute,” he said, “and each of them is giving the same amount, except Olof Summerbird, who is giving a double portion. That makes fourteen lots that we have to calculate. What one fourteenth of one third of seven and a quarter marks of silver comes to is not easy to say; I do not think the wisest arithmetician of Gotland would be able to tell us at once. But a man who is shrewd can find a way out of most difficulties, and if we work it out in skins the problem becomes easier. That way, each lot will be one fourteenth of six dozen marten skins, which is one seventh of three dozen; and each lot must be reckoned to the nearest skin, for one always loses a little in weighing, as I know from experience. By this reckoning, each man should give the equivalent in silver of six marten skins, a small price to pay for such an honor. Here are the scales and weights, and anyone who wants to do so is welcome to test them before I begin the weighing.”
Men who knew about such things now tested the scales carefully; for merchants’ scales were often cunningly adjusted, so that the test was well worth making. But the weights could only be tested by touch; and, when two men expressed doubts regarding their accuracy, Toke immediately replied that he would gladly fight any man to prove that they were correct.
“It is part of a merchant’s trade,” he said, “to fight for his weights; and anyone who is afraid to do so must be regarded as unreliable and should not be dealt with.”
“There shall be no fighting about weights,” said Ugge sternly. “All the silver that is collected in the helmet shall be given at once to Glum and Askman; and what good would it do Toke to weigh falsely, when his own silver is to be weighed with the rest?”
All those who had promised to contribute now took silver from their belts and had it weighed. Some gave small silver rings, others twists of silver thread, and others yet handed over silver that had been chopped up into small squares. Most, however, gave their contribution in the form of silver coins, and these were from many different countries and the farthermost parts of the earth, some of them having been struck in lands so remote that no man knew their name. Orm paid in Andalusian coin, of which he still possessed a quantity, and Olof Summerbird in beautifully engraven Byzantine pieces that bore the head of the great Emperor John Zimisces.
When all the contributions had been collected, Toke poured them into a small cloth bag and weighed them all together; and the scales showed that his calculations had been correct, for they made up a third of the sum required. But there was also a small surplus.
“This is too little to divide up and give back to all of you,” said Toke, “for I cannot measure such small amounts on my scales.”
“What shall be done with it?” asked Ugge. “It seems unnecessary that Glum and Askman should receive more than they demanded.”
“Let us give it to the Widow Gudny,” said Orm. “Then she, too, will have some compensation for the distress and disappointment that has been caused to her.”
All agreed that this was an excellent solution; and soon Sone and Gudmund came back with their respective sixths, which they had collected from their kinsmen and friends in the assembly. Sone’s sixth was weighed and found correct; but Gudmund’s was deficient, though he produced a pile of skins and two copper kettles to add to his silver. He bewailed the deficiency loudly, saying that he was prepared to swear upon oath that this was all that he could raise, and begging that some rich man of the chosen twelve should lend him the money that was lacking. But this nobody was willing to do, for everyone knew that lending money to Gudmund was like casting it into the sea.
At length Sone the Sharp-Sighted said: “You are a stubborn man, Gudmund, as we all know well; but all men can be persuaded to change their attitudes by some means or other, and I think you are no exception to this rule. I seem to remember that Orm of Gröning managed to persuade you to do so not long after he had arrived in the border country, when you were unwilling to sell him hops and cattle fodder at a fair price. I fancy that a well entered into the story; but I forget exactly what happened, for I am beginning to grow old. While, therefore, you, Gudmund, think how you may find the rest of your share of the silver, perhaps Orm will tell us the story of how he prevailed upon you. It would be interesting to know the method he used.”
This suggestion was enthusiastically received by the assembly, so Orm rose and said that the story of what had happened was short and simple. But before he could go further, Gudmund leaped to his feet and roared that he did not wish it to be repeated.
“We made this matter up a good while ago, Orm and I,” he declared, “and it is not a story worth listening to. Wait but a short while, for I have just remembered another man whom I might ask, and I think he will be able to supply what is lacking.”