Daughter of Fire and Ice (21 page)

‘Some people will use any excuse to shirk their share of the work,’ muttered Ragna, doling me out an even smaller portion of skyr than usual for breakfast. ‘In my father’s household, a sick slave was left to fend for himself. Not nursed like a precious child.’

‘And in
my
father’s household, a slave’s life was held in the same respect as a free man’s,’ I snapped back. Then I wished I had held my tongue. It never did any good to anger Ragna. When I heard her mutter ‘slave lover’ for my ears only, I ignored her. I comforted myself by thinking that she was married to one. She chose to disbelieve Arn’s accusation, but I knew the truth.

Thors reached his crisis in the small hours of the second night. I had stayed up watching him, concerned that he was very seriously ill. The man cried out in fear and pain, babbling of fire and blindness. While his aura glowed with colours around him, I didn’t fear greatly for him. He seemed strong. But as those colours began to fade, I redoubled my efforts to cool the fever. I wiped his arms and shoulders with a damp cloth and tried to pour a little willow bark tea into his mouth. It ran uselessly out again. He wouldn’t or couldn’t swallow. I implored him to wake up and respond to my pleas to drink. I shook him gently and patted his face. He was beyond my aid. Under my horrified gaze, his aura faded to white and he died.

There was nothing I could have done. The gods had claimed him as their own and I had to accept it. It was never easy though, to tend someone and to fail. I sat still beside the body until morning, and then I went to Bjorn and told him what had happened.

Thors was buried on the hillside under a cairn of stones. The men did this while the women burned his clothes. We washed the place where he had lain and I burned aromatic plants to cleanse the air of impurities. We all hoped that was the end of it.

For a few days, it seemed it was. I watched everyone with anxious eyes and saw no sign of the disease. I saw plenty of fear in their faces, as they, too, wondered who would be next. But then Asgerd fell ill. One by one, men and women sickened. I nursed them day and night, more patients than I could manage. Rummaging through my precious stores I selected elder, meadowsweet, and more willow bark, all of which could reduce fever. None of them were plants that I had yet found in Iceland and I had no idea what I was going to do if they ran out. The thought sent chills down my spine.

As soon as Helgi’s house was habitable, he fled there to live in the unfinished shell of a building with his wife, baby, and those of his people that had not yet fallen sick. They hoped to save baby Ingvar from infection.

‘I’m so sorry to have brought this on you,’ I heard him say, clasping Bjorn’s hand. ‘So very sorry. Tell Thora that once again she has our gratitude. We’re deep in her debt and yours.’

While I cared for all the sick, I was especially concerned for my friend, Asgerd. I cast the runes for her over and over, following their guidance. I dosed her with the willow bark and she responded well, calming and sleeping or lying quietly for hours at a time. Ulf also took the disease, but the runes told me he was strong and would recover. I tried to trust their wisdom and still my fears.

I had little time to spare for those who kept well, but I watched Bjorn from a distance when I could, afraid he would sicken too. I forgot to watch Thrang, who collapsed quite suddenly at nightmeal one evening. It took four men to lift him to the overflowing end of the house where the patients lay. I could see at once that he would be difficult. He fended me off angrily one moment and then the next begged me to stop him dying.

Asgerd was the first to pass her crisis and live. I was deeply relieved and watched tenderly over her as she slowly recovered. As soon as she could sit up I sent her back to the main part of the house where Erik could care for her.

I was growing weary. For weeks I’d only slept in snatches. Late one night when I thought the whole house was sleeping, I dozed off, propped up against the wall next to Ulf. I was awoken by a light touch on my sleeve.

‘Thora, are you all right?’ asked a low voice.

I had only the dim light of an oil lamp to see by, but I knew Bjorn’s voice. I turned my head to look at him, watching the flickering light cast moving shadows across his face.

‘I’m well enough,’ I whispered. ‘Only tired.’

‘I can’t sleep for fear you’ll take the disease,’ Bjorn whispered.

‘I never get ill. And you need your sleep,’ I said, keeping my voice expressionless. I wouldn’t let him see how much his words moved me.

‘So do you. Is there no one who can help you nurse these people so that you can get some rest?’

‘No. I’ve already thought about that. The women I trust are either already sick, or I don’t wish to expose them to the fever. You shouldn’t be here either.’

‘I’m not afraid,’ he replied. ‘How are they?’ He nodded towards my patients who currently numbered eight. Some lay quietly, others tossed and moaned in their fever.

‘Most are very sick,’ I told him. ‘I’ve never seen this illness before. I have no name for it. I’m especially worried about Ulf. He’s just a child. I don’t know how we could explain to his father if he … ’

In the darkness, Bjorn took my hand in his and held it in a comforting clasp. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I should pull away, tell him to leave. But the long days and nights of nursing had left me exhausted and weak, and I allowed it. I sat quite still, though my heart was pounding in my chest and my ears were singing.

‘And how’s Thrang?’ asked Bjorn after a few moment’s silence. He spoke as though nothing had changed. As though my hand wasn’t resting in both his. I tried to do the same.

‘He’ll recover,’ I said. ‘He’s as strong as a bear.’

We sat without moving. I could hear a storm blowing up outside the house. The wind whistled in the roof and found its way in through even the smallest chinks in the wall, making the flame on the lamp dance. It was bitterly cold. I thought vaguely that I should stuff the gaps. Perhaps when I was less tired.

Someone cried out nearby. It was Kari, one of our men. Drawing my hand from Bjorn, I went to him. He was burning with fever, his eyes staring and bloodshot. As I watched his aura began to fade. I felt sick. I’d watched death many times in my life, but always hated to see young people die. Gently, I laid my hand on his brow and spoke soothingly to him. He couldn’t hear me.

‘Is he … ’ Bjorn began to ask. I shook my head at him. ‘How do you know?’ he whispered.

‘His aura,’ I murmured. ‘It’s bleeding all its colours.’

Bjorn looked horrified.

In a few moments it was over. I bent forward and closed the man’s eyes. The sense of loss and failure overwhelmed me for a moment. Another life I had been unable to save. Two people had died now and I hadn’t been able to help them. I’d let them down.

‘I wish … ’ I began in a whisper. I paused, but I could see Bjorn was waiting for me to continue. ‘I wish with all my heart I had Sigrun by to advise me. To reassure me that I’ve done all I could. If only I wasn’t so tired … ’

Bjorn knelt beside me and put a hand on my shoulder. I pushed him away, but he didn’t go.

‘It’s not your fault, Thora,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve never seen your equal. Without your care, many more would have died.’

As he spoke, I felt his arms go around me. Too exhausted to resist, I leant against him. I could smell the clean, fresh-air and wood-smoke scent of his woollen tunic, masking for a moment the smell of sickness that surrounded us. I could feel Bjorn’s lips against my hair, his breath on my cheek. Time stopped, and in that frozen space I was comforted. I don’t know how long we sat like that in the darkness, but a weak cry from Ulf broke the spell. I pulled away and went to him.

‘Thora,’ he fretted, ‘I’m so thirsty.’

I lifted him and carefully held a goblet of water to his lips. From the corner of my eye, I saw Bjorn kneel beside the dead man and pick up his body in his arms. He carried him away and I heard a wail of distress from the other end of the house. Wearily, I took a cloth, dipped it in some water and began gently wiping Ulf’s overheated skin, murmuring soothing words to him.

Thrang recovered and so did Ulf. Aud, the oldest member of our household, was not strong enough to fight the fever and succumbed, bringing the death toll to three. I grieved for her and wept as she was laid in a grave beside the other two.

No one else had fallen ill. As the last of my patients began to pull through, I could sit by the fire for short spells. This was a mixed pleasure as it exposed me to Ragna’s mutterings about how useless I was to let three patients die.

After a day or so, I ventured outside to bathe in the hot pool, crunching through the new-fallen snow, relishing the fresh winter wind and the clear black air contrasting with the steamy heat of the water. There was no moon, but the sky was strewn with jewel-bright stars and the snow gleamed white, lighting up the landscape. The bath gave me new courage and energy, refreshing my spirit as well as my body.

The temperature dropped steadily, until we could barely keep warm unless we were right by the fire. The northern winds howled mercilessly, cutting like a knife through even our sturdy wooden walls, finding every tiny chink.

‘We need a stone layer outside the timber of the seaward wall,’ Thrang advised Bjorn. ‘That will keep the wind out.’

The following day, Bjorn led several men out into the darkness in a hunt for rocks and stones to pile against the side of the house. The men took it in turns throughout the day to come back inside, thaw their frozen fingers over the fire and drink something hot.

I was standing outside the door breathing the fresh air when they stopped work for the day. The air was so cold it burned as I breathed it. Bjorn and Thrang paused by me as the others went in.

‘Can you smell the ice on the wind?’ Thrang asked me.

‘It smells of the sea. Very clean and cold,’ I said, sniffing.

‘It’s certainly cold,’ agreed Bjorn. ‘We need many more stones.’ His voice sounded strange, as though he had sat too long in the smoke from the fire. ‘We’ll keep working tomorrow. I’m sure it will help.’

He shivered and pulled his cloak more tightly around himself. As he turned to go inside, he staggered and half fell against me. I caught his arm. I could feel the heat from his skin right through his thick woollen clothing.

‘You’re ill!’ I exclaimed, struggling to keep the panic out of my voice.

‘I think … I might be,’ said Bjorn weakly. Thrang caught his other arm, and between us, we supported him into the house. I was already saying prayers under my breath, begging Eir that it was not the fever. Please, spare him that, I said silently. Surely it had run its course now?

Ragna got to her feet as she saw us, fear flooding her aura.

‘What’s wrong?’ she cried, sounding just as afraid as I had done.

As Erik rushed forward to take Bjorn’s weight from me, I was free to touch his brow and his neck. His eyes were pink and his face was flushed. There could be no doubt.

‘What were you doing working out in the cold?’ I asked him. ‘You have the fever.’

I turned to Thrang. ‘Take him … ’ I began.

‘No,’ shouted Ragna. There was a silence as everyone looked at her.

‘Put him in our room,’ she said sharply. ‘I’ll nurse him.’

‘Ragna, please,’ I began, appalled.

She glared at me through narrowed eyes.

‘You’ve killed three,’ she said for everyone to hear. ‘Do you think I would trust you with my husband?’

No one moved. ‘I said, take him into our room,’ she shouted at Thrang and Erik. Both of them looked to me. There was doubt in their faces. But there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t countermand Ragna. I sat down helplessly and felt fear and despair flood me as he was carried into the room he’d never once entered since it was built. Ragna shut the door on me.

Bjorn’s fever mounted over the following days. Ragna wouldn’t even let me glimpse him. She refused to answer my questions or take my advice. Feverishly, I cast the runes, but for once they failed me and I could get no clear answer from them. I suspected it was my own fears clouding their message.

‘Reason with her, please,’ I begged Thrang and Asgerd. They tried, but to no avail. Ragna locked herself away with Bjorn, emerging only at mealtimes, looking pale and drawn. There was intense anxiety for Bjorn in her features, and I would have pitied her if she hadn’t been putting his life at risk. It was clear she cared about him and had no fear of the sickness on her own account.

To make matters worse, two more people fell ill. One was a slave woman of Helgi’s, who had stayed behind because her child had been sick, the other was Jon. I had my hands full again.

The following morning, Asgerd came to find me, a look of panic on her face.

‘Thora, can you spare a moment? It’s urgent.’

My heart stood still.

‘Not Bjorn,’ I whispered through lips that were suddenly numb.

Asgerd shook her head.

‘No, but it’s bad. Come.’

I followed her, slightly surprised when she led me into the normally locked store room. Stupidly, I stared around, looking for the sick person.

‘Where … ?’ I asked, looking at Asgerd for an explanation.

‘Look around you, Thora,’ said Asgerd. ‘What do you see?’

‘Nothing,’ I said, and then it dawned on me and I sat down suddenly, shock taking the strength from my limbs. The store room was practically empty. It was only midwinter and we should have food stacked up in here. There ought to be barrels of skyr, dried and salted meat and fish, grain, cheeses, butter and whatever else had been grown or foraged.

‘Two sacks of barley, half a sack of rye.’ Asgerd counted the remaining stores on shaking fingers, her voice unsteady. ‘One barrel of fish, some dried meat and some salt. There are still two butters and a large piece of cheese. That’s it, Thora. For five months. Even if the last of Helgi’s people went home tomorrow, which they won’t, we are still eighteen adults and two children. This will only last us a month. Perhaps two if we start going very hungry right now.’

It was too much to take in. My head was spinning. I stared helplessly at the meagre supplies.