Читать книгу Troll Mill - Katherine Langrish - Страница 9

Piercing yells from Eirik woke Peer next morning. Sticking a bleary head round the edge of his sliding panel, he saw that the rest of the family was already up. Sigurd and Sigrid sat on their stools, stirring lumps of butter into bowls of hot groute, while Gudrun tried to feed Eirik, who was struggling to be put down.

He couldn’t see Hilde. She must be outside doing the milking, which was his own morning task! Bundling Loki off the bed, he closed the panel and dressed quickly, thumping and bumping his elbows in his haste. As he scrambled out, Hilde came in with the milk pail, taking short fast steps to prevent it from slopping.

“You should have woken me!” Peer took it from her, thinking how pretty she looked in her old blue dress and unbleached milking apron. Her fair hair was twisted into two hasty braids, wispy with escaping tendrils.

“No, you were tired.” She gave him a sunny smile and his heart leaped. “Besides, it’s a beautiful morning. My goodness, Eirik! What a noise!” Her baby brother was bawling on Gudrun’s knee. His mouth was square, his face red with temper.

“Take him, Hilde.” Gudrun handed him over with relief. “I’ve fed him. He just wants to get down and create mischief. Keep him out of the fire, do! I’ll have to feed the other one now.”

Hilde seized Eirik under his plump arms and swung him on to her hip. “Come to Hilde,” she crooned. “You bad boy. What a bad boy you are!” Eirik stopped screaming and tried to grab her nose. She pushed his hand away and joggled him up and down. His face crumpled and went scarlet, but as he filled his lungs to yell again, he caught sight of Gudrun lifting the other baby from the cradle.

Eirik’s angry face smoothed into blank astonishment. His eyes widened into amazed circles. He stretched out his arm, leaning out from Hilde’s side, trying to touch the baby girl.

Hilde and Gudrun laughed at him. “Oh, what a surprise,” Hilde teased. “Twins, look at him! Peer, just look at that expression!”

“Ha ha!” said Sigurd. He danced around Hilde, hooking his fingers into the corners of his mouth and pulling a horrible face–something that usually made Eirik gurgle with laughter. “You’re not the littlest one any more!”

This time, it failed. Eirik craned past him, yearning towards the little baby.

“He was half asleep when I got him up,” explained Gudrun, sitting down to feed the new baby. “It’s the first time he’s noticed her.”

Frustrated, Eirik began to writhe and kick, determined to find out for himself what this new creature was. Hilde carried him away.

“Fetch me some groute and honey,” she called to her brother. “Cool it with milk. I’ll see if he’ll have some more.” She plonked the wriggling Eirik on her knee and when Sigurd brought the bowl and a horn spoon, she tried to ladle some into his mouth. Eirik spat it down his chin in angry dribbles. She tried again. Purple with fury, Eirik smacked the spoon out of her hand.

“Ouch!” Hilde wiped the glutinous barleymeal from her eye. “Right, you little horror! Don’t think I’m taking you anywhere near that baby. You’d probably tear her limb from limb!”

“Just let him see her,” said Gudrun wearily. “He’s curious, that’s all.”

“Curious? You mean furious,” said Hilde, bringing him across. His eyes were screwed shut, and fat tears poured down his face. “All right, Eirik, you’ve got your own way. Look, here she is. Stop screaming!”

“There. She’s had enough,” said Gudrun, as Eirik’s screams subsided to choking sobs and at last to fascinated silence. “I’ll sit her up.”

She righted the baby and sat her upright on her knee, holding her tenderly. The baby hiccupped. Her eyes focused. She gazed solemnly around. Peer looked at her closely. What had the Nis been complaining about? She seemed like any other baby to him.

“Gudrun, there’s nothing wrong with the baby, is there?” he asked.

“She’s fine,” said Gudrun. “She hasn’t even caught a cold. You looked after her very well, Peer, and there’s nothing wrong at all. Don’t worry.”

“I didn’t mean that. I talked to the Nis last night.”

“The Nis?” Gudrun looked up. “Go on, what did it say?”

“It was cross,” Peer said with a short laugh. “It told me off for bringing the baby here.”

“Why?” asked Hilde, amazed.

“It’s jealous, I think. It said she’s a wild seal baby, and doesn’t belong here, and you won’t be able to manage, Gudrun. Something like that.”

“Wild?” Hilde started to laugh. “She’s as good as gold. If anyone’s wild it’s young Eirik here.” She tickled Eirik’s tear-stained cheek.

Gudrun was watching Peer’s face. “Is there something else?” she asked.

He hesitated. “It threatened to leave if the baby stays. But you know what it’s like. It probably wasn’t serious.”

Gudrun tightened her lips. “I managed when the twins were little, so I suppose I can manage now. And the Nis must learn to cope as well.”

“But it won’t be for long, Gudrun,” Peer tried to comfort her. “I mean, even if they don’t find Kersten, Bjørn will soon come for the baby.”

“But, Peer,” said Hilde impatiently. “Bjørn can’t feed her!”

“Oh, of course!” Peer felt himself flush.

“Yes,” said Gudrun, “if they don’t find Kersten, poor Bjørn will lose his child as well as his wife. Even when she’s weaned, he’s still got to go out fishing. He can’t leave her behind, and he can’t take her along.”

“Then we can keep her!” sang out Sigrid. “Hurrah!”

“Sigrid,” said Hilde menacingly. “This is not something to be happy about.”

“How could Kersten leave her own little baby?” Peer wondered aloud.

“What if Ma is right?” said Hilde. “What if she was really a seal woman all the time, and Bjørn caught her and kept her prisoner?”

“I just don’t believe it!” Peer cried. “Bjørn wouldn’t do that!”

“No?” Hilde flashed. “Then what do you suggest? Did Kersten desert her baby–and Bjørn–for nothing? Bjørn’s a man, so it can’t be his fault, but Kersten can be a bad mother because she’s a woman? Is that what you’re saying?”

Peer stared at her, but before they could speak again, there were voices in the yard and the door latch lifted. Ralf came in, dark against the daylight, bowing his head under the lintel. “Come along, come in,” he called over his shoulder.

Bjørn stepped uncertainly after him, narrowing his eyes a little to see through the indoor shadows. Hilde and Peer exchanged shocked glances and forgot their argument. Could this really be steady, practical, cheerful Bjørn? He looked like a stranger–as if what had happened to him had changed him, or put him on the other side of some barrier of knowledge, so that the old Bjørn was gone, and this new Bjørn was someone they must get to know all over again. There were blue shadows under his eyes, and he did not smile.

Without a word, Gudrun got up and went to him. She put the baby into his arms, kissed him, and drew him forward to sit down at the fire. “Has he eaten?” she whispered to Ralf. Ralf shook his head. Gudrun hurried to fetch a bowl.

Hilde grimaced at Peer. Still carrying the wriggling Eirik, she went to kneel beside Bjørn. “We’re all so sorry,” she said quietly.

“Thanks.” Bjørn’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “And here’s young Eirik Ralfsson!” he added, with an almost natural laugh. “That fine chip off the old block!”

“Yes.” Hilde paused. How could they say what needed to be said?

Bjørn looked down at his own baby. His face clenched. He stood up again and handed her back to Gudrun as she brought his food.

“It’s only groute, but it’s sweet and hot. Eat up, Bjørn, you’ll need your strength,” she said anxiously, lulling the baby against her shoulder.

They tried not to stare as Bjørn ate, at first wearily, but then more hungrily as his appetite returned. Ralf said in a low voice to Gudrun,“He needed that. He was out searching all night. When we saw him coming in this morning, he could barely hold the oars.”

Bjørn put the bowl down and looked at Peer. “So what happened?” he asked quietly.

Peer’s stomach knotted. There was simply no way of softening the bleak tale. In a low voice he described yet again how Kersten had come running over the dunes, how she’d pushed the baby into his arms and rushed past him to the sea. Bjørn listened in silence. Under the force of his attention, Peer scoured his mind for extra details. He recalled the cold touch of Kersten’s hands and the dark tangles of wet hair caught across her face.

“She looked so wild. I thought something dreadful must have happened. I asked her,‘What’s wrong, Kersten? Where are you going?’ And all she said was,‘Home’.”

Bjørn caught a long, tense breath. Gudrun gave a nervous cough. “Well now, Bjørn,” she said. “What might she mean by that? Where was home for Kersten?” Though she tried to sound tactful, the whole family knew she was bursting with curiosity.

“She wasn’t from round here, was she?” Ralf joined in. “A pretty lass, but foreign? Those looks of hers…”

They all thought of tall beautiful Kersten with her dark hair and green eyes.

“She came from the islands,” said Bjørn reluctantly.

The family nodded. “The islands!”,“Ah…”, “So that explains it!”

But it doesn’t, thought Peer, it doesn’t explain anything, and we all know it. Why aren’t we talking about what really happened?

“I must go.” Bjørn got up, stiff as an old man. “Must try and find her…”

Ralf shook his head in rough pity. “She’s gone, Bjørn. Accept it, lad. Oh, we can search along the shore, but whatever we find, it won’t be your Kersten any more.”

Bjørn’s face set, so hard and unhappy that Peer jumped to his feet. “But we’ll help him. Won’t we, Ralf?”

“Of course we will—” began Ralf. But Bjørn laid a hand on his arm.

“Kersten’s not dead, Ralf. I know she hasn’t drowned.”

With a worried frown, Ralf blew out his cheeks and ran his hands through his hair. “Well–if that’s how you feel, Bjørn, we won’t give up yet. What’s your plan?”

Before Bjørn could reply, Peer clapped a hand to his mouth. “I forgot!” He looked at Bjørn, stricken. “I completely forgot. When I went to your house last night, Bjørn, you’d been robbed! Your big chest was open, and it was empty. The key was on the floor.”

Everyone gaped at him. Peer rattled on, afraid to stop. “And so…maybe that upset Kersten?” He faltered. “I should have told you before, but it–it went clean out of my mind. Have you lost something special?”

“Don’t worry, Peer, I’d already guessed,” said Bjørn quietly. “Special? You could say so. Kersten took the key. Kersten robbed the chest.”

“What?” cried Ralf. But Gudrun interrupted.

“She took her sealskin, didn’t she?” she asked. “You kept her sealskin in that chest.”

“Oh, now, come on,” began Ralf. This time Bjørn cut across him.

“Was it wrong, Gudrun? Do you blame me?” he begged in a low voice.

“Oh, Bjørn,” said Gudrun. She looked around, as if asking the others for help. Bjørn leaned forwards, his eyes fixed on her face. Gudrun swallowed. “It’s not for me to judge,” she told him very gently. “Did Kersten?”

Bjørn shook his head. “She never said so. But perhaps…perhaps she’s angry with me. I’ve got to find her. I’ve got to know. It’s out to the skerries I’m bound, and looking for a bull seal with a scarred shoulder…”

“Why?” Peer rose to his feet. He felt dizzy. He imagined Kersten in the dark room, on her knees before the chest, flinging the lid back, dragging out the heavy sealskin, stroking it, wrapping herself in it. Is Hilde right? He glared at Bjørn. “What’s going on? Tell us the truth, Bjørn. Was Kersten really a seal woman? Did you trap her?”

“Trap her?” Bjørn went white. “We were happy!”

“Then why keep the sealskin locked up?” Peer threw back at him.

The air prickled, as before thunder. For a second Bjørn looked as if he might hit Peer.

“Because I—”

He gulped and started again. “At first I was afraid she would leave. Then, later, I didn’t think it mattered any more. She was my wife! She wasn’t a prisoner!” The last word was almost a shout.

“But she ran away!” Peer was breathless. “She ran away from you.”

“Gods, Peer, what do you take me for?” Bjørn cried. “You don’t know what you’re saying. All right, listen! This is how I found Kersten–and I’ve never told the story to another living soul.”

Gudrun made a murmur of protest, but Bjørn ignored it.

“Seven–yes, seven years ago, when Arnë was a young lad about your age–we were out in the boat together, hunting seal among the skerries beyond the fjord mouth. I told Arnë to land me on one of the rocks. I’d lie hidden with a harpoon, waiting for the seals to come, and he could take the boat out to the fishing grounds and come back for me later.

“So he brought the boat alongside one of the big skerries where the seals lie, and I scrambled ashore and watched him row away. It was fine–and fresh–and lonely when the boat had gone. Just me, and the islands on the horizon, and the tide swirling between the skerries. No seals yet, only a few black cormorants diving off the rocks, so I found a sheltered place and lay down in the sunshine on a litter of seaweed and sticks and old gulls’ feathers, with my harpoon near at hand.”

His voice began to relax into a quiet, storytelling rhythm.

“No sound but the sea slopping up against the rocks, and the cries of the cormorants. The rocks felt warm in the sun, winking with bits of crystal. I lay still, so as not to frighten the seals when they came. You know how they float, with their heads just out of the water, watching for danger?

“And so, after a time, I suppose I dropped off to sleep. When I woke it was low tide. The skerry was bigger, going down in great rocky steps to a wide broken platform on the westward side. And there they were! I could see the seals basking, scratching themselves in the sunshine. I took my harpoon and climbed over the rocks as quietly as I could.”

“Go on,” prompted Ralf, as Bjørn fell silent.

“I was sun-struck, perhaps,” he said slowly. “At least, as I crept over the rocks, I found it hard to see clearly. I felt dizzy and my head ached, and I remember seeing things that could not be. White bees buzzed around my head. I saw faces in the rocks. The sea chuckled and gurgled in secret holes under my feet. I heard a chattering and humming. I thought I heard voices. And then, on the flat rocks where the seals lay, I saw three fair women sitting. Their dark hair blew in tangled strands and they combed it out with long fingers. At their feet, three sealskins lay in wet gleaming folds.”

The family sat spellbound, their eyes fixed on Bjørn, who stared at the wall as if seeing right through it to the far-distant skerry and the washing waves.

“I leaped down the rocks,” he went on in the same far-off voice. “The air was singing and ringing. The sun winked off the water, sharp as needles. In the blink of an eye the women were gone. All but the nearest! As her sisters threw on their skins and plunged into the water with the seals, I snatched up her sealskin. Heavy, it was–glossy and greasy and reeking of the sea.

“She screamed like a seagull, and her hair fell down over her face and her white shoulders. She stretched out pleading fingers. How she wept! I almost gave it back to her–for sheer pity–but it seemed wrong to wrap such beauty in a stinking sealskin…

“Then I heard a shout. It was Arnë calling, and the boat came knocking along the side of the skerry. And I knew I had to choose.”

Bjørn’s square brown hands knotted. “I’m just a fisherman!” He looked up defiantly. “There I stood with the catch of my life. Suppose I let her go? I already knew that I was caught too. I’d never forget her. I’d grow old still dreaming of her, wishing I’d had the courage to do…what I did then.

“I threw the sealskin down to Arnë. And I put my two arms around her, and wrapped her in my cloak and lifted her into the boat.”

Gudrun breathed out a long, wistful sigh. Ralf shuffled his feet uneasily. Hilde sat frowning, her eyes intent on Bjørn. Even the babies were quiet. Peer’s head ached fiercely. So Bjørn admitted it–he had stolen Kersten! In the silence, Sigrid piped up in a puzzled voice. “Is this a true story, Bjørn?”

Bjørn gave a brief, unhappy smile. “A true story?” he echoed. “There are so many stories, aren’t there, sweetheart? Who knows which are true? I told Arnë a different story, and it may have been a better one. He was only fifteen then, no older than Peer is now, and I could see he was scared. ‘Who’s this, brother?’ said he, and his teeth chattered. So I told him I’d found the girl stranded on the skerry. ‘Likely her boat went down,’ I said. ‘No wonder if she’s a bit dazed. Who knows how many nights and days she’s spent on that rock, with only the seals and the sea birds for company?’

“Arnë accepted it. Even to me, it sounded reasonable. But the weather suddenly changed, with a black squall driving over the sea and the waves clapping against the skerries in spouts of foam.

“As the boat tossed and Arnë rowed, a face rose out of the water–a face that looked half-human, with furious eyes and snarling teeth. A great bull seal it was, that charged at the boat, roaring. He’d have tipped us over. I still had the harpoon. I threw it without even thinking. It sank deep into his shoulder. He screamed, and the line burned though my hands as he dived, and the water around us was streaked with dark blood and red bubbles. Arnë gave a shout, and the girl flung herself at me, screeching like a wildcat. I had to hold her off, and we fell down together in the bottom of the boat as it pitched and swung. I was nearly as crazy as she. The seal in the water, what was it? Her father, her brother? I knew I’d done her wrong.

“At last she lay quiet. Her long hair trailed in the water, over the side of the boat. I looked at her and it came to me that–” Bjørn hesitated. “–that I was in love with a wild thing out of the sea. With no name. What words could there be between us? What understanding? And so I gave her the only gift I could. I named her, ‘Kersten’.

“Kersten,” he repeated gently. “Well, the sea calmed as though we’d thrown oil on the water. And she leaned towards me, shivering and smiling. Yes, she smiled at me and took my hand, and she spoke for the first time. ‘Do you really wish me to be Kersten? Can you pay the price?’

“I said I would, I would pay anything. She put her fingers on my lips.

“‘Hush! It will be a hard price,’ she said, ‘hard as tearing the heart from your body–and we will both pay it. For as long as you keep the sealskin safe, I will be your Kersten. And while I am with you, the seal folk will befriend you and drive the mackerel to your nets. But beware of the day we part’.”

There was quite a silence.

“So that’s the story.” Bjørn looked up, his face bleak. “I kept the sealskin locked away, but the years went by and I got careless. I stopped carrying the key about with me–I left it on the shelf. Surely Kersten knew, although I never told her. I thought she loved me. She did love me! But she took the key and unlocked the sealskin. They’ve called her back, the seal people. Why did she go? Why, without a word to me? After seven years, how could she leave me?

“I’m going to search for her among the skerries, and I’ll search for that bull seal too, for I’m sure he lives and hates me. If I find him, I’ll see what a second blow can do. I’ve nothing to lose now.”

“Nothing? What about the baby?” asked Peer.

“What?” Bjørn sounded as though he hardly understood the question.

“Your baby!” Peer repeated coldly. A throb of rage shook his voice as he remembered the stumbling nightmare of the journey home. “I brought her back for you last night. You’ve hardly looked at her. We don’t even know her name!”

Bjørn lowered his eyes. “She’s called Ran,” he said flatly. “Her name is Ran.”

“What sort of an outlandish name—?” Gudrun’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Kersten wanted a name that came from the sea,” said Bjørn wearily. “Change it, if you don’t like it. Call her Elli. That was the name I would have picked.”

Gudrun was horrified. “Oh, I couldn’t, Bjørn. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Listen to Peer, Bjørn,” Ralf urged. “You’re a father now. You mustn’t take risks.”

“A fine father who can’t even give his child a home.” Bjørn stood. “I must go. You don’t mind me coming to see her–from time to time?”

“Really, Bjørn,” exclaimed Gudrun. “What a question!”

Bjørn nodded. His blue gaze travelled slowly over all of them, seeming to burn each of them up. At Peer, he hesitated, silent appeal in his face. Peer stared back stonily. Bjørn turned away. The door closed behind him.