West of the Moon

by Katherine Langrish

  Their eyes met. For a second, Hilde felt she was looking into the eyes of a deer or a hare, a wild animal who glares at you before bolting. Then Astrid pushed her hood down. Out sprang a bright cloud of amber hair, frizzing and fizzling, catching the light in a million fiery glints. The hair transformed her cold, still face. With her hood down, she was beautiful.

  Hilde held out her hand, puzzled. Gunnar’s wife? She doesn’t look much older than me. She can’t possibly be that boy’s mother!

  Astrid touched Hilde’s hand with chilly fingers. There was a pause, and Hilde racked her brains for something to say. “Have you been to Vinland, too?”

  “No!” said Astrid in a low, curt voice. After a moment she added with reluctance, “Gunnar and I were only married in the fall. He’s an old friend of my father, Grimolf Sigurdsson of Westfold. He came to stay with us, and – I suppose he liked the look of me. I’m his second wife.”

  So that’s it. Poor girl. Gunnar looks older than Pa. I’m glad I don’t have to marry an old man just because he’s rich. Aloud Hilde said, “How exciting! And now you can travel with him right across the world.”

  But perhaps Astrid could tell what Hilde was thinking. Instead of answering she raised a scornful eyebrow. Then she stared at the floor.

  “Not everyone wants to travel across the world, Hilde,” Arne said with a smile. “Seafaring is hard for women.”

  “I’d love to go to Vinland,” said Hilde immediately, determined to show Arne that whatever most women were like, she was different.

  Astrid looked up quickly, but before she or Arne could reply, the door opened. A half-grown black puppy tumbled in and dashed around the room barking, followed by Peer’s dog Loki. A cheerful voice called, “Hey, hey, what’s this? Visitors?”

  “Ralf,” cried Gudrun. “Sigurd, control your puppy. Ralf, look who Arne’s brought to see us!”

  The girls were left together. Hilde was about to make an excuse and slip away, when Astrid touched her arm, and said stiffly, “Did you mean that? Would you really like to go to Vinland?”

  Hilde opened her mouth to give some airy reply. Nothing came out. The warm, stifling air of the farmhouse wrapped around her throat like a tight scarf. She stared at Astrid. Here was this awful, boring girl, with her grand, snooty manners, sailing off to Vinland while Hilde had to stay at home.

  Oh, if only I had her chance. I want to see something new. I want to sail far away. I want – I want to find Soria Moria Castle, east of the sun and west of the moon!

  Astrid was watching her like a cat. “Come with me!”

  “What?” Hilde choked.

  “Come with me. Ask your mother. I’ll do my best to help you. I’ll tell Gunnar I want another girl for company. It’s true anyway. And then you’ll be on my side, won’t you?”

  “On your s-side?” Hilde stammered.

  Something flashed at the back of Astrid’s eyes. “Nobody asked me if I wanted to come to Vinland. Nobody asked me if I wanted to marry Gunnar. Well, my father asked, but he’d already agreed. He wouldn’t insult a man like Gunnar.”

  “Was – was there somebody else you liked?”

  “There may have been,” said Astrid warily.

  “My father would never do that to me!”

  Astrid shrugged. “Lucky you. I thought of putting the cold curse on Gunnar, but someone’s done it already. He’s never warm. See?”

  The cold curse? Hilde twisted round. Gunnar, still wrapped in his thick cloak, was hoisting Ralf ’s big chair closer to the fire.

  Astrid tossed her head. “You needn’t feel sorry for me. I’m making the best of it. After all, Gunnar’s a famous man. You’ll never marry anyone half so well known. He treats me well. He’s never once struck me. He’s as tough as Tyr, who put his hand in a wolf ’s mouth. But he needs me. He has fevers, and sometimes he tries to stay awake because of bad dreams. And he hates being alone in the dark.” Her eyes narrowed. “I haven’t found out why, yet, but I will. I know herbs, I know how to mix draughts to give him peaceful sleep. I can wind him round my little finger,” she boasted.

  “What about Harald?” asked Hilde.

  Astrid gave her a sharp glance. “Don’t be fooled by his looks. His own mother died years ago, so he didn’t mind me at first; he thought I was a pretty little thing that his father might as well have. Now he knows better, he’s jealous. What do you think of him?”

  “Um. Isn’t he a little bit pleased with himself?”

  Astrid laughed. “Oh, yes. There’s no one quite like Harald Silkenhair. Well! You might do.”

  “Do?” Hilde decided all over again that she didn’t like Astrid. “What for?”

  Astrid raised her eyebrows. “Don’t be like that. We could have fun together. You want to come to Vinland, don’t you? Or was that just talk?” she added.

  “No! I meant it.” Hilde swallowed. “But…”

  Astrid seemed to realise that she hadn’t been making a great impression. She looked at Hilde for a moment, as if wondering what to offer her. “I want you to come. Do you like secrets? If we’re going to be friends, I’ll tell you one.”

  “Go on,” said Hilde, intrigued in spite of herself.

  Astrid hesitated. “Shall I? I’m taking a risk, I’m trusting you. Are you easily shocked? No? All right, listen.” Her pale eyes opened wide. “There’s troll blood in me. Oh yes there is, a long way back perhaps, but it’s there. And I can see things other people can’t.”

  “Troll blood?” A fascinated shiver ran down Hilde’s back. “What do you mean?”

  Astrid gave her a conspiratorial smile. “What I say.” She leaned close and whispered, “My mother’s mother was the daughter of Thorodd Half-Troll, and his mother was a troll out of the Dovrefell. My mother’s dead now. But she passed down all kinds of tricks to me.” She patted her big goatskin bag. “Gunnar thinks this is just herbs and medicines. Well, some of it is, and some of it isn’t.”

  Hilde drew back in sudden suspicion. “You’re making it up.”

  “Oh, am I?” Astrid looked around, but their low conversation was easily drowned by loud laughter from the men chatting by the fire. “All right then.” She unbuckled the flap and plunged her arm into the bag. “Hold this.”

  She handed Hilde a little square box, yellowish in the firelight. Hilde rubbed her fingers over it. It was made of smooth bone, or ivory, but there were some scratchings on the lid, runes or patterns. She looked up at Astrid. “Well?”

  “Listen to it,” said Astrid. “Put it to your ear.”

  Hilde did. The box buzzed. She almost dropped it, and listened again. Yes, when her ear was pressed close, the box was buzzing or humming. Or was it even a sleepy, angry voice, singing or chanting a very, very long way off?

  “What is it?” Hilde burned with curiosity. She pried at the lid.

  “Don’t open it!” Astrid snatched it back. “My mother gave it me. It tells me things. Now do you believe me?”

  Looking at Astrid in the flickering firelight, Hilde found she did. There was a slant to her eyes, a play of shadows on the cheekbones, that reminded Hilde of the troll princess from underneath Troll Fell.

  “Does Gunnar know you’ve – got troll blood?” she almost whispered. Astrid smiled, showing a line of sharp little white teeth. “Oh no, he’s much too shockable. I told you, it’s a secret. He only knows I can do a little seidr – magic. Are you wondering if I’ve got a tail? Don’t worry, I haven’t. But the troll blood’s there. It makes me different. And I can see this, Hilde Ralfsdaughter. Like it or not, you’re coming with us to Vinland.” She pinched Hilde’s arm. “You wait and see. Let’s talk again later.”

  She walked away to the fire.

  Hilde’s fingers prickled from touching the little buzzing box. Her breath came short. A smile of pure excitement curled her lips. The cold curse. Troll blood. Like it or not, you’re coming with us to Vinland. To think that, only a short while ago, she had thought Astrid conventional and dull!

  Oh, she thought, I do w
ant to go with her. I must!

  Chapter 44

  The Nis Amuses Itself

  PEER HESITATED BY the farmhouse door. He’d hurried up the track, imagining Harald picking a quarrel with Ralf – insulting Hilde – frightening the twins. He’d pictured himself striding in to the rescue. But now his imagination failed. Harald had a sword. It would be no good trying to pull him outside for a fist-fight.

  “You don’t have to play his games,” Bjørn had said. But Peer had a feeling that Harald was good at pushing people into games they had no wish to play. What if Harald called him ‘Barelegs’ in front of Hilde? How can I stop him? What shall I do?

  He lifted the latch, and something scampered across the yard and mewed at the bottom of the door like a hopeful cat. The Nis! As the door creaked open he got a glimpse of its beady eyes, skinny outline and little red hat, before it shot past his ankles and whizzed up the wall into the rafters.

  He closed the door. The room was hot, bright and crowded; the atmosphere unnaturally hushed. Peer’s taut nerves twanged. What’s going on? Trouble?

  A strong voice chanted:

  “The hound of heaven, the ship-seizer,

  Hunted us over the wild waters.

  Weary wanderers, we fled before

  The wide jaws of the wind-wolf!”

  It was Harald, the centre of attention, standing at the table reciting his poetry to the family. Everyone listened in apparent admiration. No one had eyes for Peer.

  Peer waited, hungry and cross. In full flow, Harald chanted on. It was all about the voyage to Vinland, and he was making it sound pretty stormy and adventurous. Once he caught Peer’s eye, and a faint smirk fled across his face.

  Would the poem never end? Something scuffled overhead. Dust dropped in a fairy cascade. Peer rubbed his eyes. It was the Nis, poking about amongst the cobwebs, chasing spiders – one of its favourite games. Good. At least the Nis couldn’t be bothered with Harald Silkenhair!

  At last, Harald’s voice rose in triumphant climax:

  “But our sleek ship, our proud sea-serpent

  Bore us swiftly to a safe haven,

  An empty land, fleeced in forests,

  Land for our labours, land for claiming!”

  Harald flung himself back on the bench, lifted his cup and tossed down a draught of ale. “Great stuff!” roared Ralf, pounding the table. “Grand! ‘Our sleek ship, our proud sea-serpent!’ I’ve always wished I could make poetry. My father could, but I can’t. ‘An empty land, fleeced in forests.’ That’s not right, though. Vinland isn’t empty. There are people there.”

  Harald’s laugh was a jeer. “People? You mean the Skraelings?”

  Peer didn’t know what a Skraeling was, but nothing would have induced him to ask. He reached over Arne’s shoulder to grab some food, and folded himself into a corner near the fire, sitting on the earth floor with his back against one of the big wooden posts that held up the roof. Loki came to greet him. Peer pulled him close and fed him a piece of cheese.

  Sigurd was asking loudly, “What’s a Skraeling?”

  “Skraelings, laddie?” Gunnar set down his horn cup with a crack. “It’s what we call those creatures who live in Vinland. No better than trolls. They live in tents made from bits of tree bark. They dress in skins. Why,” he guffawed, “at one place we stopped, they were so ignorant that they bartered good furs for a few miserable pieces of red cloth. And when we ran short of cloth, we tore it into thinner and thinner strips, and still the Skraelings paid in furs.”

  Ralf said mildly, “I thought they were fine people. And why shouldn’t they barter furs for cloth, if cloth was a rarity? I don’t call that proof of ignorance.”

  Gunnar stared, as though he wasn’t used to being disagreed with. Gudrun broke in, “But aren’t they dangerous? Isn’t that how you lost your hand, Gunnar – fighting Skraelings?”

  “Skraelings? No!” Gunnar’s face darkened. “No. It happened in Westfold before I left. An argument in an ale-house.” Here his wife gave him a cold glance, Peer noticed – perhaps she didn’t approve of ale-house fights. “The man jumped me before I was ready for him. Luckily I had my boy here with me, Harald.”

  “What did Harald do?” Sigurd asked eagerly.

  “Cut the fellow’s hair for him. With this,” Harald winked, patting his sword. Sigurd laughed out loud, and Ralf grinned. Astrid studied her nails, and Gudrun shook her head. Peer stared at Harald in deep dislike.

  Harald brushed at his shoulder, frowning. A moment later he shook his head, combing his fingers through his hair. Then Peer saw. The Nis, perching in the rafters, was amusing itself by dropping things on to Harald’s head – dead spiders, and bits of grit and cobwebs. Brilliant! He tousled Loki’s ears, grinning.

  “Anyway, tell us about your settlement,” exclaimed Ralf. “What’s it called? What’s it like? And how’s my old friend Thorolf?”

  A glance passed between Harald and Gunnar. “We’ve had no news of Thorolf since we left him in Vinland last year,” said Harald, yawning. “Have we, father?”

  “How could we?” Gunnar shivered suddenly, and the cup shook and splashed in his hand. He set it down. “Harald’s right. We left him there last year. Haven’t been back since.”

  “So you don’t know what he’s up to,” Ralf nodded. “He may have come after you.”

  Gunnar mumbled something. His face was beaded with sweat, and Astrid gave her husband a sharp, curious glance.

  Harald shook his hair. “I think we’ll find Thorolf and his men right where we left them,” he said, smiling. “I don’t think he had any plans to leave.”

  Ralf leaned forwards, rubbing his hands. “Didn’t he? Maybe you’re right. It’s a wonderful land. Those green forests, full of game – the rivers bursting with fish. No wonder Thorolf wants to make a home there. And you, you’re going back?”

  Harald nodded. “We have two good solid houses in a sheltered bay, with a river running out of the woods, and good anchorage in the river mouth. We named it Serpent’s Bay – after our two ships, Long Serpent and Water Snake.”

  And I suppose that was your clever idea, thought Peer, mesmerised as a dried bean bounced off Harald’s shoulder and skittered across the table. Sigurd noticed it too. He nudged his sister.

  Arne broke in eagerly. “Ralf, why don’t you come with us? That’s why I brought Gunnar here. He’s looking for another man, and I told him you’ve always talked about another voyage.”

  Gudrun, going round with the jug, knocked Arne’s cup over. Ale washed across the table. Sigrid jumped up for a cloth, but Gudrun stood still, eyes fixed on Ralf.

  “Arne’s right.” Gunnar wiped his face and looked steadier. “It’s like this, Ralf. My old crew split up over the winter. On the profits of the last trip, some of them got married, or bought land, and didn’t want to set out again this season. So I’ve been looking for new men. What do you say?”

  “I knew you’d ask,” said Ralf slowly. “I’ve been thinking about it all evening, deciding what to do…”

  Gunnar sat back. “Good! Let’s drink to it.”

  “…but I’m needed on the farm,” Ralf went on. “Sigurd’s not old enough to manage, and the last time I went away Gudrun had all sorts of trouble with the trolls. I can’t leave her to cope alone.”

  Gudrun’s eyes shone, but Gunnar’s whiskered cheeks creased uneasily. “Trolls? You have many trolls here?”

  Ralf laughed, and waved his hand. “We live on Troll Fell, Gunnar.”

  “Trolls.” Gunnar shuddered. “I hate ’em. Unnatural vermin.”

  Astrid seemed to stir. Her lips parted, then shut. Another dried bean dropped from the rafters, splashing into Harald’s cup as he lifted it to his lips. Harald threw down the cup.

  “That’s enough, you!” He pointed at Peer, who scrambled to his feet. “Do you think I’m going to put up with this?”

  Everyone stared. Harald put his hands on the table and leaned forward. “You’ve been throwing beans at me, haven’t you, Barelegs? A
nd you think it’s funny?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” said Peer, seriously alarmed.

  “It wasn’t Peer!” Sigrid cried.

  “No. There’s something dodging about in the roof,” said Astrid, to Peer’s great surprise. Most people couldn’t see the Nis.

  Everyone looked up into the smoky, dark roof-space, cluttered with fishing nets, strings of onions, old hay-rakes and scythes.

  The Nis flung down its fistful of beans. A stinging shower rattled on to Harald’s upturned face, and as he cursed and ducked, the Nis followed it up by bouncing some small wrinkled apples off his back. It could be heard drumming its heels against the beam, and sniggering: “Tee-hee-hee!”

  Astrid’s face sharpened into a triangular smile. “There it is!” she breathed, fixing her eyes on a spot above Harald’s head. The sniggering broke off.

  “Where?” Harald spun round, golden hair spraying out. He dragged out his sword and angled it up, craning his neck to see into the rafters.

  Everyone leaped to their feet. The dogs began barking. “Put that sword away,” called Ralf. “Someone’ll get hurt!”

  “No swords in this house!” cried Gudrun.

  “My apologies,” said Harald between his teeth. “There’s something up there. Stand back, and let me deal with it.” He put a foot on the bench, obviously preparing to spring up on to the table. Peer heard a frightened squeak from the Nis.

  “There it goes!” Peer shot out his arm and pointed. “Look, a troll! Running along that rafter, see?” His finger followed the imaginary troll from beam to beam. “It’s over the fire – oh!” He let his arm drop.

  “What? Where?” gasped Gudrun, half-convinced. “It went out through the smoke hole,” said Peer, disappointment in his voice.

  “Then it’s on the roof.” Harald sprang for the door, Arne and Gunnar and the dogs close behind. Ralf followed more slowly, giving Peer the flicker of a wink.