Troll Blood (26 page)

A terrible conviction settled slowly on Hilde that the worst had happened. She would never see Peer again. She covered her face with her hands.
And we parted so badly. He tried to tell me he loved me, and I was so stupid.
…

She saw her behavior from the outside, as Peer must have seen it, and shriveled with shame.
He must have thought I didn’t care about him at all. But I did. I do. I’d just—got used to him. I suppose I took him for granted
.

The moon was setting and the sky glittered with constellations.
The Wagon
, she thought, remembering how Peer had pointed them out.
The Nail. Oh, Peer. Can you see them? Where are you now
?

The stars blurred and trembled, and ran together in a luminous smear.

CHAPTER 18
“A Son Like Harald”

Y
ou’ll have to talk to me again sometime,” said Astrid wearily the next day, “so why not now?”

She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a smear of blood. It wasn’t her own, it came from the pile of dead pigeons lying in her lap.

“And at least Peer got away,” she went on. “Harald didn’t kill him.”

The girls were alone. The door was open, and the men were out, either searching for Peer, or hunting or fishing.
How could they
? thought Hilde.
As if nothing had happened!
Even Gunnar had felt well enough to walk down to the shore with Magnus and Harald.

“What do you think I could have done?” Irritably Astrid tweaked out a handful of feathers. “If I’d rushed in shouting,
‘It’s all true—Gunnar and Harald slaughtered Thorolf and his men,’ do you think that would have stopped Harald?”

Without speaking, Hilde dropped her brace of pigeons into the pot. She threw the refuse and feathers into the fire, and went to rinse her hands in the pail by the door.

“Well?” Astrid insisted.

“It might have helped,” Hilde said at last.

“No, it wouldn’t,” said Astrid flatly. “Harald wanted blood. Arnë tried his best, but he couldn’t stop it, and Magnus and Floki and the others do whatever Harald wants. Most of them are too scared not to, and Floki’s too stupid.”

“Gunnar could have stopped it, and he would have if you’d asked him.”

“After everything Peer said?” Astrid’s nostrils were pinched and her eyes flashed. “Don’t be silly. If I’d taken Peer’s side, it would have made Gunnar even angrier. Anyway, he gave Peer a chance to back down, didn’t he? And Peer could have taken it.”

“No, he couldn’t!” Hilde’s chest began to heave. “He couldn’t possibly, even though I wanted him to, because if he had, he wouldn’t have been Peer. You don’t know him like I do. Bad things have happened to Peer before, and he’s always, always faced up to them, even though he doesn’t think he’s brave. But he
is
brave. He’s the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

Astrid nodded gloomily. “I’ve always thought so.”

Hilde stared at her. “I don’t understand you, Astrid. Not one bit. How can you stick up for Gunnar after everything he and Harald have done? And now it turns out they killed Thorolf as
well—and all his men, and his little boy too, I suppose. And you knew. You’ve told me a million lies. You wouldn’t risk anything to help Peer. Yet you pretend you liked him.”

“You’re right.” Astrid was icy. “You don’t understand.”

Hilde’s lip curled. “Are you trying to tell me you love Gunnar?”

“Love him? I don’t need to love him. He’s my husband.” Astrid shot out a thin, cold hand and gripped Hilde’s wrist so tightly it hurt. “Sometimes I think I’d like you if you weren’t such a fool. You don’t get it, do you?
I’m married to Gunnar
. It’s all right for you, whose father and mother are so soft they’ll let you go off on a Viking ship just so you can decide who you really want to fall in love with. It wasn’t like that for me. I didn’t get a choice. I said I didn’t want to marry Gunnar, and my father threw me against the wall till my head bled. There’s troll blood in my family. My father would never have married my mother if he’d known about it beforehand, so he was desperate to get me off his hands before Gunnar found out. I’ll say this for Gunnar: He’s never laid a finger on me.”

“You told me that before,” said Hilde savagely, “and you spun me that long story about Erlend. So how do you explain what I overheard the first night we came here? I couldn’t sleep, and I heard you talking to Gunnar. Telling him how to stop a ghost from walking—by sticking needles in a dead man’s feet!”

Astrid’s eyes widened. “You heard that?”

“Yes! It didn’t sound as though your dead lover meant much to you then.”

Astrid went pale. “That had nothing to do with Erlend. We were talking about Thorolf.”

“Thorolf?” Hilde felt her head was coming apart.

“Yes, Thorolf” With exaggerated patience, as if explaining to a child, Astrid said, “It’s Thorolf’s ghost Gunnar’s afraid of. He finally told me the whole story, that night on the ship. There was a fight—Thorolf died under Gunnar’s spear, but he put his dying curse on Gunnar first.
A cold life and a cold death
. Gunnar’s terrified that Thorolf’s ghost is after him. They put the bodies into the
Long Serpent
and set her on fire, but she sank before everything burned. That was Gunnar’s mistake. That’s what you heard me telling him.” She added earnestly, “A dead man can’t follow you if you sew him up in a shroud and then break off the needle in the soles of his feet.”

She saw Hilde’s expression, and her own face went rigid. “Don’t look at me like that! I can’t help what I know! Why should I care for Thorolf? I never knew him. And I cried for Erlend, but even if it
was
his ghost and not Thorolf’s, I’d still do what I could to help Gunnar. A live husband is better than a dead lover. I married Gunnar and I decided to make the best of it. What’s wrong with that? And I’ll tell you something else. Gunnar’s all right, sometimes. Often he is. You said so yourself! He’s brave, and he’s a good skipper, and the men like him. And—”

“Astrid,” interrupted Hilde. “He
kills
people.
That’s
what’s wrong.”

Astrid began to sob. “But mainly because of Harald.
Nobody can control Harald, you know that. Harald would have got Peer in the end, whatever we did.”

Hilde’s voice rose. “And whose fault is that? Who made Harald the way he is? Gunnar, bringing him up to think he can do just as he likes!”

“No!” Astrid shook her head vehemently. “It wasn’t Gunnar who spoiled him, it was Vardis—Harald’s mother—she must have been an awful woman. I’m not like that. It’ll be different this time.”

“But Gunnar’s so proud of Harald …” Hilde trailed off. Her eyes flicked down to Astrid’s stomach. Now that she was looking for it, she saw the small bulge at once.

“You’re not. Are you …?”

Astrid gave a defiant tear-stained smile. “Yes! I am! I’m having Gunnar’s baby.”

Hilde was speechless. How had she missed something so obvious?

“Does Gunnar know? Have you told him?”

“Not yet. I wasn’t sure, but I am now. I’ve been very careful. I know you’re not supposed to run, or carry anything heavy.”

Hilde remembered what she ought to have said. “That’s wonderful, Astrid.”

“I know.” Astrid bit her lip and laughed suddenly. “A little rival for Harald. How annoyed he’ll be. I’m so happy, Hilde.” Her face shone. “A little baby, all of my own! I’ve wanted one for ages. Do you remember me cuddling Elli at your parents’ house? I was longing to pick her up and take her with me.”

Why didn’t you
? Hilde thought.
You took the Nis
. She looked at Astrid’s soft, flushed face, and remembered the weird little nursery rhyme she had chanted then. Something no human mother would sing. A troll’s song.

What was it like to be Astrid?

Ma taught me ordinary things—milking and brewing, spinning and baking. Astrid’s mother taught her spells and strange songs. She gave her a magic box and told her how to stop ghosts from walking
.

What was it like to be Astrid, whose ambitious, violent father regarded her troll blood as a shameful secret, and married her off to a man as violent and as old as himself, instead of the young farmer she’d wanted?

And now she was happy because she was going to have a little baby to love.

“What are you staring for?” Astrid asked abruptly. “Are you still angry?”

Hilde shook her head. Swallowing, she bent down and gave Astrid a kiss. Astrid’s mouth trembled. Her arms went around Hilde. They hugged, hesitantly, then tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Hilde muttered. “I’ve been stupid. It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, you were right. I am a liar. I wish I was like you, Hilde.

But I’m all crooked inside …”

“No, you’re not.” They let go, both wiping their eyes.

“But what about Peer?” Astrid sniffed.

All the fear came rushing back. “Peer, oh, gods …” Hilde wrung her hands. “And he’s hurt. His arm was bleeding.”

“Could the Nis help?”

“I already asked,” said Hilde bitterly. “It won’t go into the woods alone. It thinks it can pay Harald back by playing tricks on him.”

Astrid looked momentarily diverted. “So that’s why Harald couldn’t find his boots this morning.”

“Good.” Hilde stared miserably at her knotted hands. “Arnë’s off looking for him, I think. He wouldn’t let me come. But if Peer was anywhere nearby, he’d have come back last night, and he didn’t. I waited outside till dawn, and I walked along the edge of the woods and called for him.”

“Maybe I could find him,” said Astrid slowly.

“You!” Hilde stared. “How?”

“If there’s enough time … Run outside, Hilde, and tell me what the men are doing.”

Hilde ran out into the dazzling sunshine and stared under her hand toward the shore. She saw figures wading with fish spears, and heard distant laughter.

“They’re busy on the beach,” she reported, coming back in.

“Good.” Astrid emerged from the inner room with her goatskin bag. “Leave the door like that—just a bit open. Now then.”

She darted her arm into the bag and drew out the little bone box that Hilde had seen before. Hilde’s heart
began to thump. More
seidr
?

“Keep an eye on the door,” Astrid said. “I don’t want the men to see.”

“See what?”

“Something my mother showed me. When I was little my mother used to make me sit and watch over her while she was away. It scared me. I used to think she might never come back.”

“Away? What do you mean?” Hilde’s mouth was dry, but she was excited, too.

“Away finding things out,” said Astrid impatiently. “No time to explain. You’ll see. Here, take the box.” She shoved it at Hilde, who nearly dropped it.

“Careful!” hissed Astrid. “Now look. When you see me fall asleep, you have to open it, and
keep it open
until I come back. Understand?”

“Not really.” Hilde flicked her plait over her shoulder. “What do—”

“And another thing—don’t touch me while I’m away. Don’t call my name or try to speak to me. Don’t say a word, you understand?”

“What if the men come back?”

“Keep them out.” Astrid swung her feet up onto the benches where the men slept, and pulled her blue cloak over her. She lay back, closed her eyes, and began muttering under her breath.

Hilde sat up stiffly, clutching the little box. She remembered the faraway buzzing against her ear, but for now the box was
quiet—warm, slippery, and inert. She glanced at Astrid, in time to see Astrid’s mouth stretch open in the most enormous yawn. Her eyelids flickered up and her eyes rolled slowly upward till only the whites showed. Her body went limp and relaxed.

Hilde nearly spoke but caught herself.
Quick, open the box
. It vibrated. Hilde bit back a yelp. She prized and twisted with cold fingers, and the lid eased stiffly up. Underneath crouched a large, glittering fly. A work of art, a delicate thing of green enameling, and golden and black wires.

It moved. The wings flirted and blurred. Hilde’s hands jerked. The box clattered to the ground. Buzzing, the fly rose, speeding to the open door. It flashed into the sunshine and was gone.

A fly
? What was this? Some pointless joke? Hilde turned furiously, but the words died on her lips. She tasted fear, sharp on her tongue. Astrid looked dead. Her eyelids drooped half shut, showing a line of white. Her lips were apart. Was she breathing? Hilde counted silently. At twenty-two she saw Astrid’s chest slowly rise and subside.