Daughter of Fire and Ice (24 page)

When we arrived, I found Bera walking up and down by the fire, a fretful Ingvar in her arms. He was flushed, red-faced and tearful. I asked for water to clean the horse dirt off my hands and then examined him carefully. I could find nothing wrong but I could see him biting angrily onto his fist and then crying out.

‘He’s teething,’ I told Bera with a smile.

Her anxious face relaxed into relief and pride.

‘I was so afraid it was the fever,’ she confided.

I selected a piece of precious clove from my bag of goods. Another item which would be difficult to replace so far from the trade routes. I resolved to speak to Bjorn about my shortage of remedies at the next possible opportunity. I ground a little clove and mixed it with some fat before rubbing it onto the gum.

‘You can do this a few times a day,’ I explained.

I spent a happy day with Bera and the baby. We talked and laughed, free of the constraints that dampened my spirits at home. I had a light heart when Bjorn lifted me onto the horse to hurry home through the icy chill of the winter night. We talked a little on the way home, Bjorn recounting some anecdotes of their afternoon’s training. The happiness of the day still filled me when I climbed to the sleeping loft to replace my unused remedies in my chest. But when I reached into my pocket for the key, I had a shock which wiped the smile from my face. It wasn’t there. My heart skipped a beat. What had I done with it? I thought anxiously of the ride in the snow and wondered whether it could have fallen. But it had never happened before. I thought of the iron key lying lost and rusting in the snow, and I knew that wasn’t right. That wasn’t what had happened. It was here with me in the loft. I could feel it.

By the feeble light of an oil lamp, I searched the loft, running my fingertips over the boards and feeling into the corners. Then I took my bedding and shook it out piece by piece. As I lifted the last sheepskin, there was a clunk and the key fell onto the boards. Breathing heavily with relief, I sat for a moment, turning it over in my hands and staring at it. How could this be?

As soon as I unlocked the chest, I knew. Someone had been in here. They’d been careful but everything was just a little tumbled and the last of the willow bark had been spilled. I ran my fingers over the contents of the chest feeling fear and dread constrict my breathing. These plants were a source of great power. In the wrong hands they could cause real harm. Some plants that are medicines in tiny doses can be fatal if taken in any quantity.

One particularly deadly poison sprang to mind. A piece of root from the aconite plant, bought at cost from a Russian trader. I couldn’t say why my mind jumped to this plant. No one here but me could possibly recognize it or know how to use it. Nonetheless, I felt for the leather pouch in which I stored it.

The pouch was empty.

Trembling, I climbed down the ladder and took a place by the fire. Everyone was gathered around preparing or waiting for our meagre nightmeal, exchanging news and stories. Fearfully, I looked from face to face, questions running endlessly through my mind. Who could have stolen the deadly root? Who would know what it was? How had I come to lose the key in the first place?

One person I could rule out at once. There was no way Ragna could have climbed into the loft. Her leg would not have permitted it. And it was clearly none of the men, for every one of them had accompanied us to Helgi’s. I questioned Asdis in a whisper as we crept to bed that night. Of all the young, unmarried slave girls, I trusted her the most. She was a kind, gentle girl, who would never harm anyone.

‘Tell me, Asdis,’ I asked, ‘has anyone been up here looking through my things today?’

‘What do you mean? I don’t think so,’ Asdis answered surprised.

‘Did anything unusual happen?’ I persisted.

‘No, we just worked. Ragna and Asgerd wove,’ she said uncertainly. ‘I sewed and Ulf pounded grain. Vigdis, Enys, and Hild swept and cleaned and cooked … Until Ragna sent us to bathe, that is.’

‘She sent you out to bathe?’ I pounced on that at once. ‘In the middle of the day?’

‘She said it was a good time, with the men from home,’ faltered Asdis.

‘And was she alone in the house then?’ I asked.

‘Yes. No! Ulf was with her. What’s this about, Thora?’ whispered Asdis.

‘Nothing I can tell you,’ I said biting my lip. I didn’t want to frighten her or anyone else. I was more puzzled than ever. What worried me most of all was that someone had known what to take when they hunted through my chest. They had recognized the plant. That meant they would know how to use it as well. But who, besides me, had knowledge of such things? Someone in the house was keeping a dark secret.

It was long before sleep came to me.

I tried to get Bjorn alone to confide in him, but Helgi’s men were with us the next morning after chores and he was surrounded by company all through the long, dark day. Helgi even stayed to dine, having brought a contribution to our nightmeal. The little food we had was shared out fairly, and goblets of whey were passed around. I took mine warily since the theft of the aconite. I dipped a finger into the liquid, rubbed a little on my lower lip and waited. I watched everyone around me eating and drinking with fear churning in my stomach, dreading to see any of them succumb to the effects of poison. They ate fast and hungrily, their appetites sharp after a long day. We had had too little food for weeks now.

My lip began to tingle. Just a little at first, but then it turned into a fierce burn and I could feel the skin swelling and heating. I looked down at my goblet in horror. Someone had tried to poison me. Someone wanted to
kill
me.

I looked at Ragna, but she sat quite calmly beside Bjorn, neither her face nor her aura giving any clues to her thoughts. She wasn’t looking at me. No one was looking at me.

With difficulty, I restrained myself from leaping to my feet and shouting the truth. We had guests. Accusations of poison could cause a rift between our families. All trust would be gone. I had to find the culprit myself.

As discreetly as possible, my hands shaking, I poured my drink onto the ground. It trickled treacherously across the earth floor in an innocent white stream, wasted food that my body needed for nourishment. One of the dogs, thin and scraggy with lack of meat, rushed to lap it up. Feeling sick, I fended him off with a foot until the laced whey had soaked into the earth.

Góa Month

Góa

At last a time came when it definitely grew light for a short spell. After that, the light returned fast, longer each day. There was rejoicing and happiness. We couldn’t hold a feast to celebrate as our food was now almost gone. We were constantly hungry, surviving on what little fish Thrang and the others could catch in the bay. They hadn’t had much luck. But the light gave us hope.

In the short daylight spells, outdoor work could resume once more. The forge was completed. Those who weren’t fishing cleared snow and began building a dairy by the stream. They also built a summer shelter for the animals.

Several of the men and one woman in our house developed winter sickness. Their gums were swollen and sore and their skin showed a rash. I’d been expecting it. It gave me an excuse to speak to Bjorn.

‘We had no skyr to preserve the autumn berries,’ I explained to him. ‘So this was certain to happen. It was just a matter of time. We need to slaughter a sheep.’

I’d caught Bjorn beside the dairy. The others had gone indoors and the light had faded completely. I shivered as the cold penetrated my thin leather shoes.

‘Slaughter a sheep? Now?’ he asked, his brow wrinkling in surprise. ‘How will that help? It’ll make poor eating. And we have few enough of them as it is.’

‘Sheep’s brains,’ I told him. ‘Eating them cures winter sickness. Without berries, it’s the only way.’

He nodded, looking almost bemused. ‘Very well,’ he agreed. ‘I’ll speak to Ragna and make sure it’s done.’

I smiled at him, relieved. No matter how strange or unreasonable my advice sounded, he always trusted me. We stood looking at each other, neither of us wanting to be the first to turn away.

‘There’s something else,’ I said, hesitantly. ‘I haven’t known how to tell you … ’

Bjorn looked concerned at once, his expression easy to read on his open face.

‘What’s wrong, Thora?’

‘About a month ago, a root was stolen from my chest of medicines. My key was taken and then put back. I’ve searched and watched, but I still have no idea who has it.’

‘So we have a thief in the house,’ said Bjorn. ‘Why would they steal from you? What does the root do?’

I hesitated, dreading the disclosure I must make. ‘It’s a deadly poison,’ I admitted.

Bjorn inhaled sharply and his gaze became intent.

‘And why would you keep such a thing?’ he asked. He sounded pained.

‘It can be a medicine in very tiny doses,’ I explained. ‘It affects the heart.’

‘Have you ever used it?’ Bjorn asked.

I nodded. ‘Once,’ I told him. ‘That was the reason I traded it. But it isn’t something I’d wish to see in the wrong hands.’

Bjorn paused a moment, clearly pondering my words. Then he looked up at me again, brisk and practical.

‘Who could have taken it?’ he wanted to know.

‘The women and Ulf were the only people who were in the house that day. But I’m not aware any of them would know what it is or how to use it.’

‘Probably the person who took it doesn’t know what it does,’ Bjorn said in a comforting voice. ‘Perhaps they’ve thrown it away. We have no other healers in the house.’

‘Not that we know of,’ I said reluctantly. ‘But I’m afraid … someone does know. One night, my goblet of whey was poisoned.’

Bjorn’s reaction to this was immediate, and startled me. He grasped my wrist, pulling me towards him, taking my shoulder in a painful grip with his other hand.

‘Why didn’t you tell me at once?’ he asked, his voice hoarse. ‘I can’t have your life put at risk. Who could it be?’

I put one hand soothingly over his. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘But should we warn everyone? You can test your food or drink by touching it to your lip and waiting a moment. The poison burns.’

Bjorn released me and paced away from me. He ran his hand through his long, dark curls and frowned.

‘No,’ he said decisively. ‘It will cause panic and distrust. It could destroy everything we’ve been working so hard for. I can’t believe whoever it was will try again. It’s been a month, you say?’

I nodded. It was typical of Bjorn to always believe the best of people. To credit them with remorse, compassion and kindness where they had none. He thought everyone as generous and good as himself. It was an endearing character trait, but a frustrating one at times.

‘I understand your reasoning,’ I told him, ‘but the dangers…’

‘ … may never come to pass,’ he interupted decisively. ‘Thank you for telling me this, Thora. We will reveal it only if it becomes necessary. Now go back inside. I will wait awhile.’

I turned from him and began to walk towards the house. He wouldn’t want us to walk in together, causing comment.

‘And Thora,’ called out Bjorn behind me. I turned, looking at the darker patch in the night that I knew was him, his outline picked out by the starlight. ‘Stay vigilant,’ he said softly.

Before I could reply, there was an earsplitting roar around us. I couldn’t tell whether it came from the earth or the sky. I put my hands up to cover my ears, to block out the dreadful sound. I could see Bjorn doing the same. And then the ground shook violently beneath our feet. It was like standing on the deck of a boat. I lost my balance and fell to my hands and knees in the darkness, the ground cold and wet beneath me. Fear flooded me like a hot wave. Then everything went quiet.

‘Thora?’ cried Bjorn, his voice loud in the sudden silence.

‘I’m here. I’m all right,’ I replied shakily. ‘What happened?’

I could hear more voices now as others rushed out of the house.

‘The gods are angry!’ cried one voice.

‘The giants are coming, making the ground shake,’ wailed another.

Then in the distance a red glow lit the dark afternoon sky. It was a long way inland, as though there was a vast fire in the distance.

‘Ragnarok!’ they all began to shout. ‘The day of judgement has come!’

‘That’s enough foolishness,’ Bjorn spoke calmly but forcefully over the babble of frightened voices. ‘I’m sure there’s a natural explanation.’

He walked towards the house as he spoke. The voices fell silent. I was reassured by his quiet authority, and sensed the others were too. I pushed myself to my feet and followed him on legs that weren’t steady.

‘Thrang,’ Bjorn said, ‘you have been in Iceland before. Can you explain this?’

‘I’ve felt the earth tremble in this country,’ boomed Thrang’s deep voice. ‘It isn’t unusual. But I’ve never seen the sky on fire.’

‘You should have tended to the sacrifices, husband,’ I heard Ragna’s voice cry, shrill with fear. ‘The gods have had no blood from us since last summer. Now we’ll be punished for failing to honour them.’

All the other voices hushed. Ragna had never openly criticized Bjorn before. He took a moment to reply. I waited with baited breath, not knowing what to think.

‘I don’t believe that,’ said Bjorn calmly, at last. His voice was strong and confident. ‘Please, everyone return to the fireside. We will await events.’

We did as we were told but there was a great deal of quiet wailing and urgent, frightened talk. Couples clung to one another for comfort and Asgerd kept her arms around her daughter. Ulf crept close to me.

We were all mortally afraid that night. Again and again we felt the ground shake, though never as violently as the first time. We prayed, talked, and nobody slept much. Bjorn steadfastly refused to sacrifice any animals, though he promised a sheep would be slaughtered the following day to combat hunger and winter sickness.

‘The winter sickness will be the least of our worries with the end of the world approaching,’ muttered Ragna darkly. ‘It is Ragnarok, the day of judgement.’