West of the Moon (43 page)

“R
UN
!” H
ILDE SCREAMED
, as Peer swung the dragonhead at Harald. She screamed again as he paused to call Loki. Then he vanished, and Harald rushed after him, and all the men followed. Only Gunnar was left behind, like some crippled old spider that couldn't crawl out of its web.

Hilde ran out too. Wildly she looked to the woods, hearing the men yell as they fought their way up into the forest.

Oh, Peer – get away. Run, hide!

But where? There was nowhere for him to go. Vinland was a wilderness, a place without places. Hilde gasped as the enormity of the disaster broke over her. Peer couldn't come back.

Harald and Gunnar, outlawed for five years for the murder of Erlend, would never let Peer live to tell of an even worse crime here in Vinland – the slaughter of Thorolf and all his men. Peer had defied them, accused them outright. So he would die: either slowly in the forest, or quickly under Harald's sword.

I know as much as Peer does. I could tell everything.
But a woman couldn't be a witness. Harald wouldn't care about a girl's threats. Magnus, Floki and the others were mixed up in it themselves and would say nothing. Arne or Tjørvi might speak. But Harald had been clever. He'd challenged Peer, asked him to prove his claim through combat. By breaking off the fight, Peer had lost his case.

Hilde ground her teeth. Men! What stupid rules they set up – as though fighting about something could alter the truth!

It was dreadful to be so helpless.

The dragonhead!
Gunnar had ordered it to be thrown on the fire. But Peer was right. It was a different sort of proof: it showed beyond doubt that death had come to the
Long Serpent
and her crew. Perhaps, one day, it could be used against Gunnar and Harald. She had to save it.

Quickly. It may already be burning
. Silent as a thief, she slid back inside. Gunnar sat at the far end of the fire hall, moodily swigging from his drinking horn. Astrid paced up and down near the door. She jumped as Hilde came in. “Where's Peer? Did they catch him?”

Hilde didn't reply. The dragonhead lay in the hearth, where Harald had thrown it after wrenching his sword free. Luckily it had fallen in the ashes. She dragged it out, giving Astrid a searing glare that dared her to say anything, and backed through the door without a word.

The dragonhead was top-heavy and awkward. The ash had stuck to its sea-slimed surface. She hugged it to her chest and thought of Peer digging in the tidepool, heaving the dragonhead out of the sand and crying for Thorolf – for his father – for the waste of it all. Tears filled her own eyes, but there was no time for that. She looked about. Where to hide it? Not near the house – someone would be sure to find it. No time to run to the shore or the woods.
Quickly, before Harald gets back…

Then she knew. Thorolf 's empty house.
Nobody ever goes there.

She stole up the dim path. The door swung open at a touch, and a chill, damp smell came out. Squatting, she slid the dragonhead in along the floor. As she let go, it vanished into the waiting blackness so completely that she could almost believe it had wriggled away like a snake. She felt for it, patting the earth floor. If someone did look in, she didn't want them to see the dragonhead lying just inside. But she must have pushed it further than she had thought, for her groping fingers couldn't find it again.

The silence in the house was tense and emphatic… the silence of a roomful of people all holding their breath. And a
tick, tick, tick
of dripping water. Hilde's skin roughened up in goosebumps. She dragged the door shut. But the dragonhead was hidden, and she couldn't shake off a ridiculous, clinging hope that somehow, if the dragonhead was safe, Peer might be too.

The Nis scampered past her ankles with a swish of air and a heavy patter of feet.
It's still playing. It doesn't know what happened.
She called for it. “Nis? Nis, I need you.” It was probably hiding in the dark porch, hoping to jump out and make her scream. “Nis, there's no time for games. Peer's hurt. He's run off into the woods. We have to find him.” She swallowed a sob. “Nis, that dragonhead you found. It means that Thorolf 's dead, Thorolf and all his men. Harald and Gunnar killed them, and burned their ship. Peer said so, and Harald made him fight with swords. And Harald hurt him, and Peer's run away.”

The Nis appeared suddenly on the top of the porch. Its eyes glinted like angry garnets. “Thorolf the Seafarer – dead?” it exclaimed. “Dead – my namesake – and Peer Ulfsson lost? And Harald Silkenhair did it? Ooh!” It raised scrawny arms and shook its fists above its head. “I will make him pay! I will avenge Peer Ulfsson, my good friend. Avenge!” it repeated grandly.

“But…”

“You thinks I can't, but I can,” the Nis bristled. “I can sneak up when Harald's asleep and tie knots in his hair, his beautiful hair he's so proud of. Ha! I can hide his clothes – put stones in his boots. I can —”

“Do all that if you like, but the most important thing is to find Peer! Before he dies in the woods, or gets lost and starves. Please, please, go and look for him.”

The Nis's eyes widened. “The woods is big, mistress,” it quavered. “I am a house Nis, and a ship Nis, but I isn't a woods Nis. I would get lost too. I would starve as well, no one to make me nice groute, only mushrooms to eat, and leaves, ugh! No butter any more, never again…” Its voice nearly broke at the affecting thought.

“Never mind, then,” said Hilde sadly. “Just do what you can.”

The men straggled back empty-handed, excited and ashamed as a pack of dogs caught doing something disgraceful but fun, like chasing sheep. Even Arne and Tjørvi avoided her eyes. Perhaps they'd gone with good intentions, to do what they could. For the moment Hilde loathed them as much as the others, for being part of the dog pack that had hunted Peer.

“Where is he?” she rapped, before even Gunnar could ask.

“Skulking,” Harald grinned. “Skulking in the woods. And he can stay there.”

Hilde caught her breath. “What will he do? How can he survive?”

Harald tilted his head to one side and paused. “By milking bears?” he suggested, and burst out laughing. Floki giggled, but he glanced at Magnus for approval and soon stopped. The others looked uneasily at their feet.

Hilde walked out. She sat on the log seat by the porch and folded her arms. Arne followed. “Hilde, please come in.” He knelt before her, trying to take her hands. “I'll go looking for Peer tomorrow, I swear I will, but it's too dark now, I wouldn't find him. Please.”

“Leave me alone.”

Astrid stuck her head out. “Hilde, come in. Sitting out here won't help.” Hilde stared straight ahead. There was no way she was going to shut herself up in the cold little cupboard that was her bed. She heard Astrid murmur to Arne, “Better leave her be.” The door shut.

I'll stay here till he comes
, Hilde thought.
He'll wait till everything's quiet, then he'll creep out of the woods. He'll see me, and we'll make a plan. We'll think of something. Peer always has an idea up his sleeve…

The sea hushed and shivered on the beach below the houses. There was a breeze, thin and chill. Something yapped sharply in the forest, and a thrill of hope brought her to her feet.
Is that Loki? Please, oh please let it be Loki and Peer.

Nothing happened. No tall figure of a boy with his dog came limping out of the trees.

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 behaviour as Peer must have seen it.
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.

“Y
OU'LL HAVE TO
speak to me again some time,” said Astrid wearily next the 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. 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
, would that have stopped Harald?”

Without speaking, Hilde dropped her brace of pigeons into the pot 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.”

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

“After everything Peer said?” Astrid's eyes flashed. “Don't be silly. If I'd taken Peer's side, it would have made Gunnar even angrier. And 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? You've told me a million lies. You wouldn't even try 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. “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 said I wouldn't marry Gunnar, and my father threw me against the wall till my head bled. There's troll blood in my family. My father 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 already spun me your long story about Erlend,” said Hilde savagely. “So what about 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 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.” With exaggerated patience, as if explaining to a child, Astrid said, “It's Thorolf 's ghost Gunnar's afraid of. He told me the whole story, that night on the ship. Thorolf died under Gunnar's spear, but he put his dying curse on Gunnar first.
A cold life and a cold death
. Gunnar believes that Thorolf 's ghost will come for 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. “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 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? Gunnar's all right, sometimes. 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 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. “Haven't you heard Magnus talking? It wasn't Gunnar, it was Vardis – Harald's mother – she must have been a terrible 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 she was looking for it she saw the shallow 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 take her with me.”

Why not?
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 gave her a magic box and told her how to stop ghosts from walking.

What was it like to be Astrid, whose 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… Where is he? And he's hurt. His arm was bleeding. He never came back last night. 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 time… Run outside, Hilde, and tell me what the men are doing.”

Hilde ran out into the dazzling sunshine and stared under her hand towards 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, I used to sit and watch over her while she did this. It scared me. In case she never came back.”

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

“You'll see,” said Astrid impatiently. “No time to explain. 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 must 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.”

“What if the men come back?”

“Keep them out.”

Astrid swung her feet up on to the sheepskin-littered benches where the men slept. She lay back, closed her eyes and began muttering under her breath.

Hilde sat stiffly, clutching the little box. It felt warm and slippery. 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 upwards till only the whites showed. Her body went limp and relaxed.

The box vibrated. Hilde bit back a yelp. She prised and twisted with cold fingers, and the lid eased stiffly up. Underneath crouched a large, glittering fly – a delicate thing of green enamelling, and golden and black wires.

It moved its splayed black feet. The wings flirted and blurred. Hilde 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?
Was this some pointless joke? Hilde turned furiously, but the words died on her lips. Astrid looked dead. Her eyelids drooped, 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.

Subdued, Hilde picked up the little box. The inside was smooth and empty.

You couldn't keep a fly in a box. So the fly was a
sending.
She'd heard it whispered of, the power of those skilled in
seidr
to send their spirits out in animal form. Could it work, this troll magic? And how long would it take?

She twisted uneasily this way and that. If she faced Astrid, she couldn't see the door. If she faced the door, she couldn't see Astrid: and there was something awful about the way she lay, neither alive nor properly dead. Her teeth showed. Her eyelids twitched, showing nothing but the whites, like hardboiled eggs.

It was silly to be so afraid. She thought of the child Astrid shivering by her mother's bed.
If a little girl could do it, then so can I.

Time passed, or crawled. The fire's bright rags fluttered quietly. Nothing else stirred. Hilde rubbed her face with sticky hands.
Oh Peer, please come back
.
Let us find you.

A glittering green spark whirled in over her head and zoomed around the room, appearing and disappearing through the smoke. Hilde sprang for the little bone box and held it up without much hope that the fly would settle. Surely it wouldn't want to be shut up again in this tiny prison?

But the fly circled down on to the rim of the box. Hilde flinched. It was so big and confident. Deliberately it walked into the centre of the box, cleaned its head with two front legs, and sidled into a comfortable position. Hilde clapped the lid on.

With a second mighty yawn, Astrid pushed herself up. Hilde flew to her side. “Are you all right? Did it work, did you find him?”

Astrid's face was bloodless. Her lips smacked together clumsily. “I saw him,” she mouthed. She sucked in another deep breath. “I saw him. It looks bad, Hilde. I think —”

The door scraped open and Gunnar's shadow filled it. Cursing under her breath, Hilde slipped the box into Astrid's bag and hid the bag behind her skirt.

“Done too much,” Gunnar was muttering, standing in the doorframe, puffing. “Where's Astrid? What's this, what's this?” he added roughly as Astrid tried to get off the bench. “What's the matter, woman? Are you ill?” He turned to Hilde. “What's wrong with her?”

Hilde's wits deserted her. She gazed at him, blank and dumb. Astrid staggered to her feet. “Gunnar.” Groggily she held out her arms. “I've got something to tell you, Gunnar. I'm having a baby!”

A slow, rare smile appeared on Gunnar's face.

“Are you sure?” When Astrid nodded, he turned around, threw open the door and bellowed, “You men get in here, and quickly!”

It was his sea-going voice, bound to be obeyed. Looking stronger than he had for weeks, he crossed the floor to Astrid and wound an arm around her. She drooped against him like a snowdrop. “Is this certain?” he demanded again, looking at Hilde.

“She says so.” Hilde was grudgingly moved by Gunnar's delight. His chest expanded; his eyes seemed younger and brighter. For a moment it was possible to see that, once, he might have looked very like Harald.

The men crowded in with scuffling boots. Arne wasn't there. Except Harald, most of them looked apprehensive. Harald wore a slight frown, which altered to a scowl when he saw his father with Astrid.

“Good news, lads!” Gunnar squeezed Astrid's shoulders. “The very best. Astrid's having a baby!”

The men burst into cheers, catcalls and whistles. “Go, Gunnar!” “Good work, Gunnar!” “Well done, skipper!”

Gunnar raised his voice. “So much for the curse, eh?” he shouted joyfully. “So much for Thorolf!”