Allan and the Ice Gods (23 page)

well cut. Her eyes he could not see because they were shut, at which

he rejoiced, for had they been open he would have known that she was

dead; but he noted the long curling eyelashes which lay upon her

cheek, also that they were not yellow like her hair, but dark, indeed,

almost black in hue.

She was clothed, but in a fashion that was strange to him, for beneath

her breast, supported by straps across her shoulders, was a long

garment blue in colour made of he knew not what, that was tied in at

the waist with a girdle of fur to which were sewn polished stones and

beautiful little shells that glittered. Also about her neck was a

string of amber rounded into beads and pierced, while on her feet were

sandals made fast with broidered thongs. Lastly from her shoulders

hung a long cloak, also deep blue in colour and of the same soft

unknown stuff as was her gown, and with this a bag worked like the

sandals.

Yes, Wi staggered back, muttering:

“The Sea-witch! The Sea-witch herself. She who brings curses, no

woman. Now what says the tale—that such should be thrust back into

the sea, taking their curse with them. I will thrust her back into the

sea.”

He drew near again and touched her cheek with his finger tip, as

though expecting to find it vapour, which he did not, for he asked

himself,

“This one has flesh like women. Have sea-witches flesh like a

woman’s?”

Just then the Sea-witch shivered and made a little moaning noise.

“And can they shiver?” went on Wi, “they who are said to live upon the

ice? Surely first I should warm her who can suffer and bring her back

to life. I can always kill her afterward if I find that she is a witch

and not a woman. That is, unless she kills me.”

He looked about him. At the back of the beach was a sloping cliff of

soft stone, and in it a little cave hollowed out by water; indeed a

spring of pure water bubbled beside it, of which Wi had often drunk

when he sheltered in this cave, weary with the hunting of seals. Now

he bethought him of this place and stooping down, encircled the Sea-witch’s shape with his strong arms, lifted her, and although she was

heavy, if somewhat wasted, perhaps with want and cold, carried her

past the beach to the cave, where he laid her down upon a bed of dried

seaweed which he himself had used at the last seal hunting. Then he

began to rub her hands and arms, and as still she did not wake, he

lifted her again and held her against his breast that she might gather

warmth from him.

Still she swooned on, although he clasped her fast, so once more he

laid her down and, covering her with his cloak and her own, bethought

him of another plan. In this cave amongst other things used by the

hunters, was a store of driftwood for making fires on which to cook

seal meat. Wi took from his bag his fire sticks and, setting one

between his feet and on it a pinch of dry touchwood powder from his

pouch, twirled the sharp-pointed hardwood rod between the palms of his

hands more quickly, perhaps, than ever he did before. The spark

appeared, the touchwood lighted. Wi blew on it and on little pieces of

crumbled seaweed that he added till there was a tiny flame, on which

he placed more dried seaweed and more and more. Then he set the

burning seaweed beneath the wood that he had built up ready, leaving a

hollow in its centre, and presently there was a great blaze.

He paused, admiring his own work after his simple fashion, and

wondering dimly why two pieces of wood rubbed together produced fire

which, if it were allowed to grow and spread, would burn a forest, as

every day he wondered about many things that he could not understand.

Then, bringing his mind back to the matter with which he had to deal,

he lifted the Sea-witch and laid her down upon her fur rug quite close

to the fire, being careful first to arrange the masses of her tumbled

hair so that no spark could fall among them. Thus she lay a while, the

heat beating on her and her beautiful face illumined in the strong

light of the flames, while Wi watched her entranced, wondering whether

she would live or die. He hoped that she would live, and yet he felt

that if she died perhaps it would be better for him, for then he would

be left with the company of a marvellous memory, yet without fear of

trouble to be borne.

“Which way will you have it?” asked Wi of Fate, and sat still by the

fire awaiting the answer.

Presently it came, for the Sea-witch was strong and did not mean to

die. She needed nothing but warmth to call her back to life and, on

his breast and by his fire, Wi had given her warmth. She opened her

eyes and with a little catching of the breath Wi noted that they were

large and dark—not black but of the hue of those woodland flowers

that we call violets, and very tender. Next she sat up, resting her

weight upon one hand, and stared at the fire, muttering something in a

soft voice and holding her other hand toward it. Thus she remained a

while, drinking in its glorious warmth, then began to look about her,

first out toward the sea, then round the little cave.

So her eyes fell upon Wi, a dark, massive figure; a perfect shape of

developed manhood who now was on his knees bending toward her with his

hands outstretched a little, silent, motionless, like to the statue of

one who is lost in prayer. She started, then began to study him with

those great eyes of hers. Slowly her glance travelled up and down him,

resting for a long while upon his face. Then it fell upon the shining

ax on his wrist and for a moment grew fearful. Back from this ax it

flew to his face and, reading there that she had nothing of which to

be afraid, for it was a most earnest, kindly face, wild enough but not

ill-looking after its fashion, she shook her head and smiled, whereon

in a slow and doubtful fashion he smiled back at her.

Next she touched her lips and her throat with her long fingers. For a

moment Wi was puzzled. Then he understood. Leaping up he ran from the

cave and at once returned with his joined hands full of water, for

these were his only cup. She smiled again, nodding, then bent her head

and drank the water till all was gone, and by a little sign asked for

more. Thrice he went and thrice returned, till at last her thirst was

satisfied.

Again she lifted her fingers, this time laying them upon her teeth,

and again Wi understood. Seizing his bag, he drew from it a handful of

dried codfish, and, to show that it was good, took a little piece,

chewed, and swallowed it. She considered this food doubtfully, showing

him that it was one to which she had not been accustomed. Then,

overcome by hunger, accepted a fragment and made trial. Apparently,

she liked it well enough, for she asked for more and more till she had

eaten a good meal, after which she signed to him to bring her another

drink of water.

By the time this strange feast was done, the light began to fail. She

noted it and pointed to the sky, then spoke, asking some question, but

what she said he could not understand, nor could she understand what

he said to her. Now Wi was much perplexed. Night fell and the village

was far away, nor was it safe to try to walk thither in the darkness

because of wild beasts and other dangers.

Moreover, this Sea-witch must be very tired and need rest, if witches

ever rested. So he signed to her to lie down to sleep, and made a bed

for her of dry seaweed, near to the fire. Also, taking more seaweed,

he piled it up outside the mouth of the cave, and by pointing first to

himself and then to it, showed her that he would sleep there. She

nodded to tell him that she understood, whereon Wi left her for a

while and by the light of the dying day, walked some distance round

the spur of the cliff which almost encircled the bay, and beyond it to

discover if perchance Pag had followed him, tracking his footsteps as

sometimes he did.

But Pag, who was working on the skin of the tiger and thought that Wi

would return at nightfall, had not done so. Therefore, finding neither

Pag nor anyone else, Wi walked back again. Coming to the mouth of the

cave, he peeped in and saw that the Sea-witch had lain down and was

asleep, or at any rate that her eyes were closed. He went away and

covering himself with seaweed, lay down also, but sleep he could not

for it was cold there outside the cave, and he was hungry, who would

not touch the dried fish because the Sea-witch might need more of it

at any moment, and the supply was small. Indeed, that he might not

fall into temptation he had left the bag in which it was carried at

her side.

Yet perhaps cold and hunger would not have kept him awake, who was

hardy and like all savages accustomed to privations. Perhaps it was

the thought of the strange adventure that had befallen him and of the

wonderful beauty of the woman creature whom he had saved from death—

that is, if she were a woman and could die; also of all that these

things might mean to him, which caused him to toss from side to side

with open eyes.

Already he knew that, whatever chanced, even if she were taken away as

swiftly and as strangely as she had come, he would never be able to

forget this witch of the sea who even now seemed to draw his heart

toward her. And if she were not taken away, what then? With what eyes

would the people look on her, and how would Aaka receive her, and

where was she to live? In the old days, before the making of the new

law, it would have been simple, for if she were willing, then there

was nothing to prevent him, the chief, or indeed any other man from

taking a second wife, and even if she were not willing she might pass

as such and have the shelter of the cave. But there was the new law,

and he had sworn an oath that might not be broken, for if it were,

shame, mockery, and disaster would come upon him, and perhaps to

others.

Thus mused Wi from hour to hour, striving to climb his slippery mount

of doubt and fear first from this side and then from that, and always

failing, until his head swam and he gave up the quest. Twice he rose

and crept into the cave to replenish the fire lest that fair sleeper

should grow cold. This he did with his eyes turned from her because,

according to the customs of the people, it was not seemly that he

should look upon a maiden while she lay asleep. Yet, although he did

not look at her, he was sure that she looked at him, for he could

feel, or thought that he could feel, her eyes upon him.

After his second visit to the cave, he did at length sink into a

troubled sleep, only to be awakened suddenly. Glancing upward but

without stirring he saw what had awakened him. It was the Sea-witch

who stood there, tall and stately, considering him with earnest eyes.

He lay quite still, feigning slumber, till at length, having as, he

thought, made up her mind that really he was asleep, she moved a

little way and looked upward, searching the skies. Presently she found

what she sought, for between a rift in the clouds appeared the faint

shape of the waning moon. Thrice she bowed to it, then, kneeling down,

with an uplifted hand spoke aloud, making some sweet-voiced prayer.

“Evidently she is a witch,” thought Wi, “for she worships the moon,

which no one does among the people. And yet, is it more witch-like to

pray to the moon that gives light than to kneel and make offerings

before the Ice-gods and him who sleeps in the ice? Perhaps, if she saw

me do that, she would say that I was a wizard.”

She rose, again bowed thrice, turned, and glanced at Wi as though in

farewell, and glided away across the beach.

“She is going back into the sea, as a witch would. Well, let her go,

for perhaps it is better,” thought Wi again.

She came to the canoe and stood by it, thinking; then she bent herself

and pushed at it, but by now it had sunk into the wet sand, and being

water-logged, was too heavy for her to move.

“I will help her,” said Wi, and rising, he followed her.

She looked at him without astonishment and apparently without fear; it

was as though she knew already that he would never harm her. By signs

he made it clear that if she desired it, he would bale out the canoe

and push it into the water for her, which seemed to surprise her a

little. Most earnestly she studied his face, noting, perhaps, that it

was very sad and that what he offered to do was not because he wished

to be rid of her. Then, muttering some words and waving her arms, she

looked upward again at the dying moon like one who seeks a sign.

Presently she came to a decision, for suddenly she shook her head,

smiled a little, and, taking him very gently by the hand, led him back

toward the cave, which she entered, leaving him without.

“So the Witch means to stay,” thought Wi. “If so, it is her own

choice, for I have done my best to help her back to the sea.”

Day came at last, gray and dull as all the days seemed to be that

year, but without snow or rain. The Witch appeared at the mouth of the