Читать книгу Troll Blood - Katherine Langrish - Страница 9

As Peer came out of the wood there was a rustling and pattering in the bushes: trolls probably, out foraging now that night had fallen. Troll Fell loomed above the farm like a dreaming giant, asleep with his head on his knees. Just over the giant’s shoulder, a scraped-out moon bobbed in a flood of clouds.

Peer hesitated by the farmhouse door. All the way up the track he’d hurried along, imagining Harald picking a quarrel with Ralf, insulting Hilde, frightening the twins. He’d pictured himself striding in to the rescue. But now his imagination failed. Harald had a sword and would use it. It would be no good trying to pull him outside for a fist-fight.

He wished now he’d come home earlier. He could have found Hilde, and told her all about it. And yet…the story made him look such a fool. What if Harald called him Barelegs in front of Hilde? How can I stop him? What shall I do?

“You don’t have to play his games,” Bjørn had said. But Peer had a feeling that Harald was good at pushing people into games they had no wish to play.

Reluctantly he lifted the latch, and something scampered across the yard and mewed at the bottom of the door like a hopeful cat. The Nis—their touchy little house spirit! It must have been accidentally shut out. As the door creaked open he got a glimpse of its beady eyes, skinny outline and little red hat before it shot past his ankles and whizzed up the wall into the rafters.

He closed the door. The room was hot, bright and crowded, the atmosphere unnaturally hushed. Peer’s taut nerves twanged. What’s going on? Trouble?

A strong voice chanted:

“The hound of heaven, the ship-seizer,Hunted us over the wild waters.Weary wanderers, we fled beforeThe wide jaws of the wind-wolf!”

It was Harald, the centre of attention, standing at the long trestle table reciting his poetry to the family. He made a brave sight, gold gleaming at his neck. Everyone listened in apparent admiration. No one had eyes for Peer.

Peer waited by the door, hungry and cross. In full flow, Harald chanted on. It was all about the voyage to Vinland, and he was making it sound pretty stormy and adventurous. Once he caught Peer’s eye, and a faint smirk fled across his face.

Would the poem never end? Was Harald deliberately spinning it out to keep him waiting? Something scuffled overhead. Dust dropped in a fairy cascade. Suppressing a sneeze, Peer rubbed his eyes and saw flickering movement along the roofbeams. It would be the Nis poking about amongst the cobwebs, chasing spiders—one of its favourite games. Good. At least the Nis couldn’t be bothered with Harald Silkenhair!

At last Harald’s voice rose in triumphant climax:

“But our sleek ship, our proud sea-serpent Bore us swiftly to a safe haven,An empty land, fleeced in forests,Land for our labours, land for claiming!”

Everyone but Peer clapped and cheered. Harald flung himself back on the bench, lifted his cup and tossed down a draught of ale. “Great stuff!” roared Ralf, pounding the table. “Grand! ‘Our sleek ship, our proud sea-serpent!’ I’ve always wished I could make poetry. My father could, but I can’t. ‘An empty land, fleeced in forests.’ That’s not right, though. Vinland isn’t empty. There are people there.”

Harald’s laugh was a jeer. “People? You mean the Skraelings?”

Peer didn’t know what a Skraeling was, but nothing would have induced him to ask. He squeezed down the room and reached over Arnë’s shoulder to grab some food. Gudrun smiled at him, and Hilde flipped him a wave, but the benches were full, so he folded himself into a corner near the fire, sitting on the earth floor with his back against one of the big wooden posts that held up the roof. Loki came out from under the table to greet him. Peer pulled him close and fed him a piece of cheese.

Sigurd was asking loudly, “What’s a Skraeling?”

“Skraelings, laddie?” Gunnar set down his horn cup with a crack. “A Skraeling is a wretch, a pitiful rascal. It’s what we call those creatures who live in Vinland. No better than trolls. They live in tents made from bits of tree bark. They dress in skins. Your little sister knows more than the Skraelings do. Why,” he guffawed, “at one place we stopped they were so ignorant that they bartered good furs for a few miserable pieces of red cloth. And when we ran short of cloth, we tore it into thinner and thinner strips, and still the Skraelings paid in furs.”

“That’s not what Pa told us,” said Hilde. Peer nodded agreement. Ralf’s stories had made these people sound like tall forest spirits, flitting between the trees with bright feathers in their black hair.

Ralf said mildly, “I thought they were fine people. And why shouldn’t they barter furs for cloth, if cloth was a rarity? I don’t call that proof of ignorance.”

Gunnar stared as though he wasn’t used to being disagreed with. Gudrun broke in, “But aren’t they dangerous? Isn’t that how you lost your hand, Gunnar—fighting Skraelings?”

“Skraelings? No!” Gunnar’s face darkened. “No. It happened in Westfold before I left. An argument in an ale-house.” Here his wife gave him a cold glance, Peer noticed—perhaps she didn’t approve of ale-house fights. “The man jumped me before I was ready for him. Luckily I had my boy here with me.”

“What did Harald do?” Sigurd asked eagerly.

“Oh, I just cut the fellow’s hair for him. With this,” said Harald with a lazy wink, patting his sword. Sigurd laughed out loud, and Ralf grinned. Astrid studied her nails, and Gudrun shook her head. Peer stared at Harald in deep dislike.

Harald twitched. He brushed at his shoulder, frowning. A moment later he shook his head, combing his fingers through his hair.Then Peer realised.The Nis, perching in the rafters, was amusing itself by dropping things on to Harald’s head—dead spiders and bits of grit and cobwebs. Brilliant! He tousled Loki’s ears, grinning.

“Anyway, tell us about your settlement,” exclaimed Ralf. “What’s it called? What’s it like? And how’s my old friend Thorolf?”

Peer looked up. It would be good to hear news of Thorolf; he remembered him as a tall, pleasant-faced man who had often spoken to his father in the boat sheds at Hammerhaven.

A glance passed between Harald and Gunnar. “We’ve had no news of Thorolf since we left him in Vinland last year,” said Harald, yawning. “Have we, father?”

“How could we?” Gunnar shivered suddenly, and the cup shook and splashed in his hand. He set it down. “Harald’s right. We left him there last year. Haven’t been back since.”

“Ah, then you don’t know what he’s up to now,” Ralf pointed out. “He may have come after you.”

Gunnar mumbled something. Peer, who was sitting near him, saw in surprise that his face was beaded with sweat. He noticed Astrid giving her husband a sharp, curious glance.

Harald shook his hair. “I think we’ll find Thorolf and his men right where we left them,” he said, smiling. “I don’t think he had any plans to leave.”

Ralf leaned forwards, rubbing his hands. “Didn’t he, now? Maybe you’re right. It’s a wonderful land. Those green forests, full of game—the rivers bursting with fish. No wonder Thorolf wants to make a home there. And you, you’re on your way back?”

Harald nodded. “We have two good solid houses in a sheltered bay, with a river running out of the woods, and good anchorage in the river mouth. We named it Serpent’s Bay—because of the two ships, Long Serpent and Water Snake.”

And I suppose that was your clever idea, thought Peer, watching mesmerised as a dried bean bounced off Harald’s shoulder and skittered across the table. Sigurd noticed it this time. He nudged Sigrid, and the pair of them glanced upwards and giggled.

Arnë broke in eagerly. “Ralf, why don’t you come with us? That’s why I brought Gunnar here. He’s looking for another man, and I told him you’ve always talked about another voyage.”

Gudrun, who’d been going round the table with the jug, knocked Arnë’s cup over. Ale washed across the table. Sigrid jumped up for a cloth, but Gudrun stood stock-still, eyes fixed on Ralf.

“Arnë’s right.” Gunnar wiped his face and looked steadier. “It’s like this, Ralf: my old crew split up over the winter. On the profits of the last trip, some of them got married or bought land, and didn’t want to set out again this season. So I’ve been looking for new men. Picked up a couple in Hammerhaven—Arnë for one—but there’s room for another. Interested?” He didn’t wait for Ralf to reply, but went on,”Here’s the plan. Setting out this early, we ought to reach Vinland by midsummer. The Greenlanders will pay anything for good timber, and it’s there for the taking, great tall oaks and pines. Spend the winter trapping—fox and beaver. The place belongs to no one. No kings, no laws. It’s all free. You can carve yourself a piece of land and be absolute master. Think about it. You could come home and buy Gudrun a gold necklace. Or a couple of cows or more land, whatever you like. What do you say?”

“I knew you’d ask,” said Ralf slowly. “I’ve been thinking about it all evening, deciding what to do…”

Gunnar sat back. “Good! Let’s drink to it.”

”…but I’m needed on the farm,” Ralf went on. “Sigurd’s not old enough to manage, and the last time I went away Gudrun had all sorts of trouble with the trolls. I can’t leave her to cope alone.”

Gudrun’s eyes shone, but Gunnar’s whiskered cheeks creased uneasily. “Trolls? You have many trolls here?”

Ralf laughed, and waved his hand. “We live on Troll Fell, Gunnar.”

“Trolls.” Gunnar shuddered. “I hate ‘em. Unnatural vermin.”

Astrid seemed to stir. Her lips parted, but before she could speak another dried bean dropped from the rafters, splashing into Harald’s cup as he lifted it to his lips. Harald threw down the cup.

“That’s enough, you!” He pointed at Peer, who scrambled to his feet. “Do you think I’m going to put up with this?”

Everyone stared. Harald put his hands on the table and leaned forward menacingly. “You’ve been throwing beans at me, haven’t you, Barelegs? And you think it’s funny?”

“I didn’t do anything,” said Peer, seriously alarmed.

“It wasn’t Peer!” Sigrid cried.

“No. There’s something dodging about in the roof,” said Astrid, to Peer’s great surprise. Most people couldn’t see the Nis.

Everyone looked up into the smoky dark roof-space, cluttered with fishing nets, strings of onions, old hay-rakes and scythes.

The Nis flung down its fistful of beans. A stinging shower rattled on to Harald’s upturned face, and as he cursed and ducked, the Nis followed it up by bouncing some small wrinkled apples off his back. Then it could be heard drumming its heels against the beam, and sniggering: “Tee-hee-hee!”

Astrid’s face sharpened into a triangular smile. “There it is!” she breathed, fixing her eyes on a spot above Harald’s head. The sniggering broke off.

“Where?” Harald spun round, golden hair spraying out. He dragged out his sword and angled it up, craning his neck to see into the rafters.

Everyone leaped to their feet. The dogs began barking. “Put that sword away,” called Ralf. “Someone’ll get hurt!”

“No swords in this house!” cried Gudrun.

“My apologies,” said Harald between his teeth. “There’s something up there. Stand back, and let me deal with it.” He put a foot on the bench, obviously preparing to spring up on to the table. Peer heard a frightened squeak from the Nis.

“There it goes!” Peer shot out his arm and pointed. “Look, a troll! Running along that rafter, can’t you see?” His finger followed the imaginary troll from beam to beam. “It’s over the fire—oh!” He let his arm drop.

“What? Where?” gasped Gudrun, half-convinced.

“It went out through the smoke-hole,” said Peer with disappointment in his voice.

“Then it’s on the roof.” Harald sprang for the door, Arnë and Gunnar and the dogs close behind him. Ralf followed more slowly, giving Peer the flicker of a wink.

Peer thought he had better dash for the door, too. He caught Hilde’s eye and said loudly, “Let’s hope they catch it!” Hilde was laughing silently.

The twins were already crowding outside, while Gudrun tried to pull them back: “Harald’s got a sword out there!”

Then the wind was fresh on Peer’s face. The moon skimmed between the clouds like a stone skipping over water, filling the yard with scuttling shadows. Harald was making Arnë give him a leg up on to the farmhouse’s thick turf roof. Gunnar stood squarely in the patch of light from the open door, squinting up under his good hand. “Go on, son,” he shouted. “A roof’s no place to hide. We’ll not be fooled by that again…”

“I never thought he could have climbed up,” said Harald over his shoulder.

What were they talking about? Peer looked at Ralf, who shrugged and said in a low voice, “I guess they’ve had adventures before.”

Harald walked along the roof ridge, sword in hand, a sinister silhouette against the sky. The moonlight silvered his blowing hair. Peer shivered suddenly, and Ralf too must have felt uncomfortable about this prowling figure on his own roof, for he called out, “It’s gone; you’ve missed it. Come on down.”

But the dogs, who had been running about eagerly with their noses down, began to bark and growl, and make little dashes at a blackly-shadowed corner of the yard near the cowshed.

“Don’t tell me they’ve found a real troll,” Ralf muttered. He crossed the yard in a couple of quick strides, Peer beside him, Gunnar close behind.

In the angle of the wall was a crawling darkness the size of a small child. “Gods!” Gunnar’s voice clotted with horror. “Look at that. Where’s its head?”

Peer’s skin prickled. Then he saw the troll had merely crouched down, wrapping skinny arms protectively over its head. Its bare flanks gleamed dimly like oiled leather. There was a sound of chewing, and a strong stink of old herrings. So it had been robbing the fish-drying racks!

Ralf clapped his hands. “Go on! Get out of here! Shoo!” he shouted.

A pair of luminous green eyes winked open. The troll gaped in threat, and produced a dry, frightening hiss, accompanied by an even stronger smell of fish. Ralf dragged the dogs away by their collars. “Stand back, Peer—give it a chance to run.”

Behind them, Harald leaped into the yard. He staggered, touching a hand to the ground to steady himself; then he was up, his naked blade glinting. “Out of my way!” he shouted, running at the troll.

The round green eyes scrunched into terrified half-moons. The troll dived away, fat sides pumping, long bald tail curving and switching. It scrambled around the corner of the cowshed. But Harald was faster. He threw himself forward and stamped down heavily on its tail, jerking it to a halt. The troll tugged and writhed to get free, squealing dreadfully. “Let it go! Let it go!” Ralf shouted. But Harald struck.

As the blow flashed down, the troll gave a final desperate wrench, and leaped crazily up the hillside as if shot from a catapult, leaving its narrow, tapering tail thrashing horribly under Harald’s boot. There was a sickening smell of stale armpits and rotten eggs.

Harald leaped back in disgust and slammed his sword into its sheath. Ralf and Arnë broke out coughing, and the dogs whined, wiping their noses on their paws. With a shiver of loathing, Gunnar turned away from the jerkily wriggling tail. Peer rubbed a hand over his eyes. What had he and the Nis begun?

“I need a drink after that,” said Ralf drily. He held open the farmhouse door and nodded for everyone to go in.

Gudrun, the twins and Hilde and Astrid clustered around the door.

“Was there really a troll?”

“What happened?”

“What was that noise?”

“Poof!” Sigurd clutched his nose. “What’s that awful smell?”

“There was a troll, all right,” Peer said to Hilde.

“Harald was so fast,” said Arnë in admiration. “What a warrior! He nearly got it!”

“He got its tail,” said Peer with bitter sarcasm.

Soft-hearted Sigrid gasped. “Oh, the poor thing! Oh, that must have hurt so much! Will it be all right?”

“It will grow a new one,” Hilde soothed her.

Harald overheard. “Yes, a pity,” he said to Hilde lightly. “Your little brother wanted me to kill a troll, didn’t he? How the tales do come to life!”

“Why didn’t you let the dogs pull it down?” Gunnar growled at Ralf. “You could have nailed the head to your barn door to scare the others. Like hanging up a dead crow. The best way to deal with vermin.”

Ralf poured himself a cup of ale, and pushed the jug towards Gunnar and Harald. He looked as if he was struggling for words. “I didn’t want it killed,” he said at last, politely enough. “The trolls may be a nuisance, but they’re our neighbours, Gunnar. We’ve got to live here with them. We’ve all got to get along.”

“Get along with trolls?” Gunnar showed a set of brownish teeth through his bristly beard. “Root ‘em up, smoke ‘em out.That’s what I’d do.”

Peer thought of the labyrinthine passages underneath Troll Fell. Smoke ‘em out? We’d have hundreds of trolls down on us like angry bees.

Gunnar sat down suddenly. His chest heaved. “Anyway,” he got out between harsh breaths, “what about my offer? Be a man. Come with us.”

Ralf and Gudrun looked at each other. She dropped on to the bench beside him, and he reached across and squeezed her hand. “No, I can’t,” he said firmly. “But ask in the village. Maybe there’s someone there who wants to go.”

Gunnar gave him a black look. “I see I’ve wasted my time. Arnë swore you’d come, that’s all. Well, I warn you, if the wind’s right, we’ll be leaving tomorrow. I won’t lose a good wind in the sailing season. After tomorrow it’ll be too late to change your mind.”

Ralf shrugged. Peer beat his fist on his knee in silent satisfaction. Good for Ralf! We don’t want anything to do with them, any of them!

Hilde stood up. “Ma, Pa…”

Peer saw her resolute face and his heart stopped. He knew what was coming.

“Astrid wants me to come to Vinland with her. And I’d like to go!”

The shocked silence stretched…and stretched. With a rustle, a half-burned log shifted in the fire like a sleepy dragon. Its bright underbelly flaked, shedding golden scales which dimmed and died.

Gudrun found her voice. “Hilde, you can’t go to Vinland. It’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not,” said Hilde. “Astrid is going, so why shouldn’t I?”

“But Astrid is married,” exclaimed Gudrun.

“And I’d be with her.What’s wrong with that?”

Gudrun spun round. “Ralf—say something!”

“Hold on, hold on.” Ralf tried to sound soothing. “Hilde, your Ma doesn’t like this idea, and I can’t say I blame her…”

Peer stopped listening. He knew Hilde would get her own way. She would go to Vinland, without him.There’d be no news. He’d miss her every day, but he’d never know if she got there safely, or when she was coming back. When Ralf had sailed away years ago, they hadn’t known if he was alive or dead until the day he came home.

He felt someone’s gaze, looked up and saw Harald watching him.

“Gudrun, I know you’re worried,” Astrid’s cool voice cut across the hubbub, “but please, please let Hilde come.” Her eyes opened, wide and pleading. “We’ve made friends already. I swear we’ll be just like sisters.” She laid one hand on Gunnar’s shoulder. “Gunnar wouldn’t take me if it wasn’t safe.”

Gunnar grasped her hand. “Of course it will be safe,” he declared.

“See!” Hilde turned to Gudrun. “If it’s safe for Astrid, it’s safe for me.”

“Hilde, be quiet!” Gudrun was red and flustered. “Your father and I will judge what’s safe.”

“Why should I be quiet?” Hilde flared up. “It’s so unfair! You expect me to stay at home, don’t you, and—and drudge all my life? Now I’ve got this chance—Vinland, Vinland—and you won’t let me go…”

Gudrun dropped back on to the bench and put her hands over her eyes. “You know,” Ralf said to Gudrun, as quietly as if no one was listening. “Hilde’s like me. She wants to see the world a bit. She’s nearly grown up. This is the chance of a lifetime for her, Gudrun. I think we should let her go.”

“But it’s so dangerous!” Gudrun looked up in tears. “All that sea—and when they get to Vinland, those Skraeling creatures, creeping about in the woods…”

“It’s dangerous here, too,” said Hilde more calmly. “Trolls under the fell, and Granny Greenteeth down in the millpond, and lubbers in the woods. If I’ve survived all those, I daresay I’ll survive a few Skraelings.”

“That’s true,” Ralf said to Gudrun. “She’ll be safe enough. Gunnar’s a sound skipper and the sort of man who—well, who looks after his friends. And when they get to Vinland, there’s Thorolf; I’d trust him anywhere. And now I come to think of it, Thorolf’s little son must be in Vinland with him. Ottar, he’s called. He’s about the same age as Sigurd. Isn’t that right, Gunnar? Is Ottar there?”

“Of course,” said Harald, before Gunnar could answer. “Remember Ottar, Father, the day we left? Climbing on to the roof of the house and waving to us?”

Gunnar grinned and nodded.

“His little boy is there?” asked Gudrun doubtfully.

Hilde flung her arms around her mother and gave her a squeeze. “Oh, please, Ma, let me go. Please?”

Gudrun faltered. It was hard for her to resist this sudden embrace.

Peer took a breath. He ought to tell Gudrun and Ralf everything he knew about Harald. Surely they would never let Hilde sail away with someone who had forced a quarrel on him, and threatened him with a sword. And yet…Hilde wanted to go so very badly, and he loved her for it—for being herself, adventurous and brave. How could he wreck her chances?

“Oh, Hilde.” Gudrun’s voice trembled. “How can we let you go when we don’t know these people? Of course, they seem splendid, and I can see that Astrid ought to have another woman with her, but…” She stopped and tried again. “If your father had been going, he could have looked after you, but as it is—”

“Ma, you do know Arnë,” pleaded Hilde.

“Arnë isn’t one of the family,” said Gudrun desperately.

Peer’s heart pounded. He looked across the table and met Harald’s bright, amused, contemptuous stare. He saw himself through those eyes—Someone who builds boats, but never sails in them. Someone who won’t take chances. Someone who might dream about crossing the sea, but would never do it. Someone who’d stay behind while Hilde sails away.

“I’ll go with her,” he said.

Hilde swung round with wide, incredulous eyes. “You, Peer?”

Ralf gave him a long, steady stare. “You really mean this, Peer?” he asked gravely. “You’ll take care of Hilde? You’ll look after her?”

“Yes.” It was like swearing an oath: the most serious thing he’d ever done. He didn’t know how he’d manage, but he’d do it, or die trying. “I will. Don’t worry, Ralf. Gudrun, I promise I’ll bring her home again.”

There was a moment’s silence. Then Ralf gave Peer a tiny nod, and looked at Gudrun. With an enormous sniff, Gudrun nodded too.

“Thank you! Oh, thank you!” Hilde nearly danced on the spot.Then she threw herself at Peer and hugged him. “Oh, Peer, I never thought you might want to come too. But you do, and it’s perfect—absolutely perfect!”

She let him go. He looked dizzily around the room. No one else seemed very happy. Arnë was scowling. Harald lifted an ironic eyebrow. Gunnar frowned. “Who is this?” He jabbed his thumb at Peer as though he’d quite forgotten meeting him on the jetty. “What use will he be to me? Why should I take him on my ship?”

And Hilde said cheerfully, pulling him forward with her arm around him: “Oh, this is Peer. He’s terribly useful. He can do anything with wood. His father was a boat builder. He’s helped Bjørn make a new faering. And he’s my brother. He’s my foster brother!”