Читать книгу West of the Moon - Katherine Langrish - Страница 21

Chapter 15

Torches by the Fjord

GUDRUN STEADIED EIRIK as he slipped. With arms linked, they waded through the drifts, encouraging each other – Gudrun with breathless gasps of, “Well done,” and “Slippy here – hold up!” and Eirik with battle cries of “Bring on the wolf ’s brood! Rouse the steel-storm!” The pine trees whistled overhead and snow whirled through the branches.

When they came out of the woods above the mill, it looked deserted. The buildings glimmered grey and ghostly in the snow. Not a light showed. No smoke rose from the roof.

Eirik paused, wheezing, and Gudrun hugged his arm. “Father-in-law! Are you all right?”

Eirik shook himself like a dog. “I’m fine,” he growled. “Fine!” And he plunged on down the path.

The black waterwheel was toothed with icicles. As Gudrun and Eirik shuffled over the icy bridge, they heard the excited bark of a fox from the mill yard, followed by an unearthly cackling.

Fox among the hens, thought Gudrun at once, but she didn’t care. Serve the Grimssons right if they lost their hens! And Eirik thought the same, he was nodding at her. “Foxes! I’ll give ’em foxes,” he roared. “I’ll feed them to the foxes, in tiny pieces. On we go!”

He was getting very tired though, Gudrun could tell, leaning more and more heavily on her arm. Still, the path was smoother now. It wasn’t so far to the village. Oh, but what was she doing here, when Sigurd and Sigrid must be far up the mountain? Why hadn’t she sent Hilde with Eirik and gone after them herself? She began to cry, big tears spilling over her cheeks. Her woollen skirt dragged, clotted with snow.

“Snow’s stopped,” Eirik shouted. “Dawn’s on the way.” It was true.

Wiping her tears, Gudrun saw the first houses and smelled the heavy tang of woodsmoke. She let go of Eirik’s arm and ran stumbling to the nearest door. “Einar!” She beat on it and pushed it open.

There was no one there. The fire burned cheerfully, the blankets on the sleeping bench were disturbed as though the sleepers had flung them back and left suddenly. “No one’s here!” cried Gudrun as Eirik hobbled up behind her.

“Try next door,” Eirik gasped.

Gudrun flew past him. “Arne – Harald! Where are you?” she begged. “Bjørn – Kersten?” House after house was empty, though cats yowled from corners and in one a baby cried, alone in its cradle. Gudrun came out looking bewildered. “Where are they all? Is it some evil spell?”

Eirik held up his hand. “Listen!” Gudrun obeyed. It seemed she could hear a far-off shouting.

“Is it an attack?” she gasped. “Is it war?”

“Onwards to battle!” shouted Eirik. “Let’s go see!”

Alf and Loki trotted briskly down the hill. As they came in sight of the tall stone where Peer had sheltered the night before, the sun rose over the hill. The snow glittered, and the stone’s long shadow fell across the slope.

Light-footed up the hill, the white fox came dancing, dragging something by the neck. Close to the big stone it stopped to lay down the burden and get a fresh grip. Limp and bedraggled, the black cockerel lay dead on the snow.

Alf circled the fox, glaring and growling. But Loki trotted nimbly right up to it, and touched noses. His tail moved in a tentative wag, and the fox’s brush twitched in reply. Then its sharp ears pricked. It glanced up. The dogs stiffened. A breath of wind brought to their acute hearing a distant clamour. Far away on the shore, many voices were shouting.

The fox grabbed the cockerel and slunk off up the hill. Alf stood rigid, his muzzle raised, snuffing the wind, straining at those sounds floating from the fjord. With a hoarse bark he bounded forwards, his bushy tail waving. Loki dashed after him. Side by side the two dogs crossed the wooden bridge and disappeared into the trees on the path to the village.

Torches flared by the fjord, pale in the dawn. Beached on the shingle, dwarfing Bjørn and Arne’s boats, an elegant longship reared its proud neck. The fierce dragonhead was covered in sacking, so as not to frighten the timid land spirits of the homeland.

The whole village had turned out to greet it. Clinging together, Eirik and Gudrun made their way on to the pebbles, where Gudrun shrieked, let go of Eirik and ran into the water to seize the arm of a tall burly man who vaulted laughing out of the ship.

“Ralf! Ralf, my man, is it really you?” She pounded his chest with her fists, laughing and crying. “Is it really you?”

“Yes, my girl!” Ralf scooped her off her feet and gave her a bristly kiss. “It’s really me!”