Daughter of Fire and Ice (19 page)

Now that winter had arrived, Ragna requested Bjorn to set up her loom. It was assembled in a prime spot at the fireside, for maximum light. Ragna set to work at once. It was a revelation to all those of us who understood the skill. She selected the softest, finest garns from her stores. Her fingers flew over the loom weaving the yarn so fast that the eye could scarcely follow the movement of the shuttle. It wove in and out of the threads, the length of woven cloth growing visibly.

‘I’ve never seen anyone who could work like that,’ Asgerd told me. ‘Weaving is my skill, but I can’t work so fast or so evenly.’

‘There must be something … no.’ I bit back the words I had been about to say.

‘Tell,’ said Asgerd, pinching my arm playfully.

I leant towards her till my mouth was close to her ear.

‘I’m amazed they let her go,’ I whispered. ‘She must have been worth a fortune to her family. Why marry her to an unknown chieftain?’

Asgerd wrinkled her nose as she stared at Ragna, considering my question.

‘They got a good trade,’ she whispered back at last. ‘A ship, livestock, gold … ’

I shook my head slightly, still not satisfied. I watched Ragna’s usually fierce aura glow with more peaceful colours than usual as she worked. Something about all this bothered me.

‘I think they needed to get rid of her for some reason,’ I murmured at last. ‘Something lies in her past or in her character. Thrang said so straight away, and I think he was right.’

In just two days, Ragna brought a soft woollen tunic and a pair of woollen leggings to the table at nightmeal and showed them to Bjorn.

‘These are for you, my husband,’ she said, presenting them to him. ‘Perhaps you’d like to try them on for size and comfort before we begin the dyeing.’

Bjorn fingered the cloth.

‘This is fine cloth,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

Ragna’s usually closed face lit for a moment at this praise.

‘What colour would you like them to be?’ she asked him.

‘Whatever you choose,’ he replied peaceably.

‘Then I’ll have them dyed red for you. Thora claims to be skilled with plants. She will know which to select.’ She turned and smiled her false smile at me. ‘Thora, I’ll put you in charge of the dyeing.’

I bit back the objection that sprang to my lips.

‘Poor you—to be in charge of the dyeing,’ whispered Asgerd with a grin.

We both knew it wasn’t the actual dyeing that was the problem. I’d already collected the mosses and plants that could produce different colours in the fabric and it was no problem to steep these. It was setting the colours afterwards that every woman dreaded. Collecting the urine from the cattle and soaking the woollens in it. And the daily lifting and airing as the scent of the urine grew more rank.

I rose the next day expecting to begin the work. But the morning was about to take an unexpected turn. I was sitting at breakfast with the early chores done and the grinding of barley begun, when the household scene faded before my eyes. The room went dark and silent. I felt my bowl slip from my hands as they became chill and numb.

A ship. An unknown ship in the waves. Behind it two more ships, heavily laden. Heading in towards our bay. On deck stand many people and animals. They are pleased to be here. They pass the island and head towards us. We will make this our home, someone says.

The vision ended abruptly. My companions faded back into view. I noticed Asgerd first, staring at me, a look of concern on her face. They were all staring at me. I saw I had spilled my porridge down my tunic and my wooden bowl lay upside down before me. I felt annoyed that I had spilled my food. I was so hungry. And cold. I shivered.

‘Ships, Thora?’ asked Bjorn. His voice seemed loud in the silence. ‘Are they close by?’

‘Very close,’ I said. ‘Three of them.’

As I spoke, I saw the blood leave his face. He was suddenly deathly pale. I could see a painful question burning in his eyes. He wanted to know if these people were Svanson’s kin come to take vengeance.

I thought back to my vision. Had it been a war party? No, the people hadn’t been dressed in black. I was sure of it. And they had had women and children with them. And lots of animals and cargo.

‘Settlers.’ I spoke the one word aloud and I could see Bjorn relax visibly. He took a deep breath. He looked ashamed of his fear and jumped to his feet to give orders.

Among all the voices, I heard Thrang saying: ‘But that’s impossible. Who would travel so late in the year?’

No one answered him. Bjorn was asking me how soon the ships would be here.

‘They’re in sight,’ I told him.

At this, everyone rushed to put on cloaks and we all poured out of the longhouse and followed the path to the shore. Many of the men were sceptical, but not for long. There were the ships, heavily laden and low in the water. They were being rowed towards us. There was an excited murmur. Visitors would provide interest and entertainment.

Someone was tugging on my sleeve. I looked down and saw Ulf. He was looking at me as though I was a ghost.

‘How did you know that?’ he asked, awed. ‘I reckon you must have seed ’em earlier.’

‘I haven’t been out of the house today,’ I told him. ‘Sometimes I see things in my head.’

The boy stared at me, confused but intrigued.

‘Can you learn me that?’ he asked.

I laughed, but gently, so as not to hurt his feelings.

‘It’s not something you can learn,’ I explained. ‘I was born with the ability.’

Ulf looked disappointed.

‘It’s not always a nice skill to have,’ I told him.

The ships were close enough now, that we could see the people’s faces. They had adjusted their course so they were heading straight towards us. I felt nervous, hoping I had read their intentions correctly. Everyone around me was excited though, at the thought of new company.

One by one, the ships beached on the black shingle. Men jumped out to pull them up out of the water, and our men joined them. There was talk and laughter. I drew a sigh of relief.

A tall, fair-haired man in an imposing cloak stepped forward. He was a very young man—barely more than a boy, I thought. His beard was sparse on his face and his skin was smooth. But he was tall, strong, and carried himself with confidence.

‘I am Helgi son of Thorolf,’ he announced. ‘This is my wife, Bera.’ His wife, who had been helped down from the boat now, went to stand at Helgi’s side. She was tall and fair and despite her youth, I could see at once that she was heavy with child.

Helgi beckoned another man forward. He was older, proud, with a slightly cruel twist to his mouth. I disliked his aura. It was a permanent purple, oozing arrogance. ‘This is my kinsman Arn, son of Styr,’ Helgi said.

As Bjorn stepped forward to welcome the newcomers, I saw suspicion flash into Arn’s eyes. The suspicious thoughts were reflected in his thought colours. My heart skipped a beat with fear. In place of Ragna, who had not been able to accompany us to the shore, I went and stood beside Bjorn, wanting to support him. Thrang obviously felt the same because he came to stand on the other side of Bjorn. His tall, imposing presence was a great strength.

‘I am Bjorn Svanson,’ said Bjorn at last. His voice did not betray any anxiety. ‘This is Thora Asgrimsdottir and Thrang Einarson, my companions and dear friends. My wife would like to have joined me in bidding you welcome. She is waiting in our home to greet you.’

I disliked the sceptical lift to Arn’s brow as Bjorn introduced himself.

‘Bjorn Svanson?’ he asked, politely incredulous. ‘Chieftain in southern Norway?’

My heart beat uncomfortably fast, and my disappointment was bitter indeed. Were we about to be exposed by these unlucky visitors? They had no business sailing so late in the year. We should at least have had the winter in peace.

I felt Bjorn straighten his shoulders beside me. I admired the nonchalant tone as he replied. ‘Is it possible that we’ve met before?’ he asked Arn. ‘It’s always a pleasure to renew acquaintances.’

It was a bold stroke. For a moment, I could see Arn’s confidence was shaken. But as I watched, a slow, insolent smile spread over his face.

‘If we had, I doubt I would have remembered you,’ he sneered.

There was a collective intake of breath behind me at the stranger’s rudeness. None of our people were armed, but men on both sides clenched their fists. Helgi stepped forward swiftly. ‘I apologize for my kinsman’s rudeness,’ he said, putting a firm hand on Arn’s shoulder. He tried to sound jovial, but there was a nervous edge to his voice. ‘We intend no offence to you.’

‘No offence taken. For now,’ replied Bjorn after a brief pause. ‘But your kinsman will need to mind his manners if he wishes to be invited in friendship.’

It was a tense moment. I awaited the outcome with baited breath. But Arn stepped back, spreading his hands in a deprecating gesture.

‘I apologize,’ he said.

It sounded less than sincere, but Bjorn took advantage of the truce to invite his visitors to our longhouse for a meal. The free men and women accompanied us to the house with one or two slaves in attendance. The rest stayed on the ships. I followed uneasily, watching Arn. As he climbed the hill to our house, his cloak fell back and I saw he was wearing a sword. I felt a shiver of fear pass through me. I had to warn Bjorn.

‘A fine hall,’ remarked Helgi as he entered the longhouse and looked about him. ‘Worthy of a great chieftain.’

Bjorn nodded graciously, accepting the compliment, acknowledging that Helgi was trying to make amends for his companion’s rudeness. And truly, this was a fine building. I saw it afresh through the strangers’ eyes. Lofty and large: the dwelling of a man of consequence.

Ragna came forward, and Bjorn introduced his wife. Arn stared at Bjorn even harder than before. I could see him shaking his head and muttering under his breath. My unease turned to sick anxiety. Either he had known the real Svanson or he didn’t believe for one moment that this small, dark-haired man could be the Viking chieftain he had heard of.

I helped Aud and Asgerd prepare a meal for the strangers. We were obliged by the laws of hospitality to feast them as best we could, though I suspected it made heavy inroads into our precious stores. Ragna seemed proud to have us cook and serve what we had, however. She loved to show off her status and consequence in front of visitors.

We prepared the rest of the whale meat, broached a barrel of salted fish, and Ragna got out a whole cheese. Some of our barley grain was hurriedly pounded to make flatbread. I watched this, longing to know how much food still lay in the store. And I wondered how long the visitors would stay. I could see the same thought on Asgerd’s face. But Helgi ordered two barrels of mead to be brought up from his ship and everyone else looked delighted. The men fell to drinking from their horns and the talk soon grew merry and boisterous.

In the bustle of setting out the tables I managed to whisper to Bjorn without anyone seeing. I warned him that Arn was armed. Bjorn listened intently. I saw a look of trepidation dart into his eyes and we both glanced at my father’s sword where it hung on the wall. I feared Bjorn would need it before this visit was over. And I was painfully aware, from his brief fight with Thrang, that Bjorn was far from expert with a sword.

We sat down to nightmeal early, and everyone ate hungrily.

‘So, how do you come to be sailing so late in the year?’ asked Thrang between draughts of mead. ‘Have you come from Norway?’

‘No,’ Helgi replied. ‘We came to Iceland two summers ago from a Viking settlement in Ireland. We had built a house here, further along the coast and begun a farm. But we had trouble.’

He had everyone’s attention now. We watched impatiently as Helgi paused to take a draught of his mead.

‘It must have been serious trouble to uproot you so soon,’ commented Thrang with a frown.

‘It was,’ agreed Helgi exchanging a glance with his wife. ‘We were a long way from here. In the west fjords. There was good farming land and a fair climate. A great deal of rain, of course. And the winters are harsh here, as you will see yourselves before much longer. But we were troubled by a werewolf.’

There was a sudden, horrified silence in the hall. I felt my own heart lurch with horror.

‘It took our sheep, one by one. And then our pigs. One of our poor slaves even had a child taken,’ he said, and a look of sadness crossed his face.

‘Did you see it?’ asked Bjorn with slight scepticism in his voice.

‘Are you calling us liars?’ demanded Arn at once, his tone aggressive.

‘No,’ said Bjorn, his thoughtful gaze resting on Arn. ‘It was a friendly enquiry.’

‘Arn saw it,’ Helgi told him. ‘He said it was the size of a bear with shaggy fur, red eyes and foul breath. And it left huge prints.’

I thought Arn looked just a little uncomfortable as this was related. Bjorn’s eyebrows rose.

‘Are you sure it wasn’t a bear, or an ordinary wolf?’ asked Grim.

‘There aren’t any wolves or bears in Iceland,’ said Thrang and Arn at the same time. Then they glared at one another.

‘We heard it howl on moonlit nights,’ said Bera with a shudder. She put her hands protectively on her belly, and edged a little closer to Helgi.

‘And we had trouble with hidden people,’ Helgi continued. ‘The milk turned sour, the stores were pilfered. It became impossible to go on living there. So once the harvest was in, we braved the autumn storms to find a new home.’

‘That was an undertaking indeed!’ exclaimed Bjorn. ‘When I think of the work it has been to build a homestead. And you gave it all up again. The hauntings must have been severe.’

‘I’ve heard tell of trolls, elves, and fairies,’ said Ragna. It was surprising to hear her speak out in front of so many people and a hush fell. ‘We had trouble in my home on the Faeroe Islands too from time to time. They can make life impossible.’

Our visitors smiled gratefully at her understanding.

I was less sympathetic. I had never heard of any of the hidden people breaking into a locked food store. It sounded more like human pilferings to me. I kept my thoughts to myself, though I could see, glancing at Bjorn, that he shared the same suspicion.