West of the Moon

by Katherine Langrish

  Chapter 22

  Bjørn’s Story

  PIERCING YELLS FROM Eirik woke Peer next morning. Sticking a bleary head round the edge of his sliding panel, he saw that the rest of the family was already up. He bundled Loki off the bed and dressed, thumping and bumping his elbows in his haste. As he scrambled out, Hilde came in with the milk pail, taking short fast steps to prevent it from slopping.

  “I should have done that,” Peer said, taking it from her. How pretty she looked, he thought, in her old blue dress and unbleached milking apron. Her fair hair was twisted into two hasty braids, wispy with escaping tendrils.

  “Oh well, you were tired.” She gave him a sunny smile and his heart leaped. “Besides, it’s a beautiful morning. My goodness, Eirik! Such a noise!”

  “Take him, Hilde.” Gudrun handed him over with relief. “I’ve fed him. He just wants to get down and create mischief. Keep him out of the fire, do! I’ll have to feed the other one now.”

  Hilde seized Eirik under his plump arms and swung him on to her hip. “Come to Hilde, you bad fellow. What a bad boy you are!” Eirik stopped screaming long enough to grab her nose. She pushed his hand away and joggled him up and down. Just as he filled his lungs to yell again, he caught sight of Gudrun lifting the other baby from the cradle, and his angry face smoothed into blank astonishment. He stretched out, leaning away from Hilde, trying to reach the baby girl.

  Hilde and Gudrun laughed. “Oh, what a surprise,” Hilde teased. “Just look at that expression!”

  “Ha, ha!” Sigurd danced around, hooking his fingers into the corners of his mouth and pulling a horrible face – something that usually made Eirik gurgle with laughter. “You’re not the littlest one any more!” This time, it failed. Eirik craned past him, yearning towards the little baby.

  “They were both asleep when I lifted him out,” explained Gudrun, sitting down to feed the new baby. “It’s the first time he’s noticed her.”

  Eirik began to writhe and kick, determined to find out what this new creature was. Hilde carried him away and tried to spoonfeed him. Eirik spat milky groute down his chin in angry dribbles. She tried again. Purple with fury, Eirik smacked the spoon out of her hand.

  “Just bring him here,” said Gudrun wearily, “he’s curious, that’s all.” By now, Eirik’s eyes were screwed shut. Tears poured down his cheeks. “All right, all right,” Hilde cried. “You can see her. Stop screaming!”

  Gudrun righted the baby and sat her upright on her knee, holding her tenderly. The baby hiccupped. She gazed solemnly around. Peer watched her. What had the Nis been complaining about? She seemed like any other baby to him.

  “There’s nothing wrong with the baby, is there?” he asked.

  “She’s fine,” Gudrun reassured him. “She hasn’t even caught a cold. You looked after her very well, Peer. There’s no need to worry.”

  “I didn’t mean that. I talked to the Nis last night.”

  “The Nis?” Gudrun looked up. “What did it say?”

  “It was cross,” Peer said with a short laugh. “It told me off for bringing the baby here.”

  “Why?” asked Hilde, amazed.

  “Jealousy, I think. It said she’s a wild seal baby, and doesn’t belong here, and Gudrun won’t be able to manage. Something like that.”

  “Wild?” Hilde started to laugh. “She’s as good as gold. If anyone’s wild it’s young Eirik here.” She tickled Eirik’s tear-stained cheek.

  Gudrun was watching Peer’s face. “Is there something else?”

  Peer hesitated. “It threatened to leave if the baby stays. But you know what it’s like. It probably wasn’t serious.”

  Gudrun tightened her lips. “I managed when the twins were little, so I suppose I can manage now. And the Nis must learn to cope as well.”

  “But it won’t be for long, Gudrun,” Peer tried to comfort her. “I mean, even if they don’t find Kersten, Bjørn will soon come for the baby.”

  “But Peer,” said Hilde impatiently. “Bjørn can’t feed her.”

  “Oh, of course!” Peer felt himself flush.

  “Yes,” said Gudrun, “if they don’t find Kersten, poor Bjørn will lose his child as well as his wife. Even when she’s weaned, he’s still got to go out fishing. He can’t leave her behind, and he can’t take her along.”

  “How could Kersten leave her own little baby?” Peer wondered aloud.

  “Perhaps Ma is right,” said Hilde. “What if she was really a seal woman all the time, and Bjørn caught her and kept her prisoner?”

  “I don’t believe it!” Peer cried. “Bjørn wouldn’t do that.”

  “No?” Hilde flashed. “Then what do you suggest? Did Kersten desert her baby – and Bjørn – for nothing? Bjørn’s a man, so he’s not to blame – is that what you’re thinking?”

  Hurt and angry, Peer was about to snap back. But there were voices in the yard and the doorlatch lifted. Ralf came in, dark against the daylight, bowing his head under the lintel. “Come along, come in,” he called over his shoulder.

  Bjørn stepped uncertainly after him, narrowing his eyes to see through the indoor shadows. Hilde and Peer exchanged shocked glances and forgot their argument. Could this really be steady, practical, cheerful Bjørn? He looked like a stranger – as if what had happened to him had changed him, or put him on the other side of some barrier of knowledge, so that the old Bjørn was gone, and this new Bjørn was someone they must get to know all over again. There were blue shadows under his eyes, and he did not smile.

  Without a word, Gudrun put the baby into his arms, kissed him, and drew him forward to sit down at the fire. “Has he eaten?” she whispered to Ralf. Ralf shook his head. Gudrun hurried to fetch a bowl.

  Hilde grimaced at Peer. Still carrying the wriggling Eirik, she went to kneel beside Bjørn. “We’re all so sorry,” she said quietly.

  “Thanks.” Bjørn’s voice creaked. He cleared his throat. “And here’s young Eirik Ralfsson!” he added, with an almost natural laugh. “That fine chip off the old block!” He looked down at his own baby, and his face tightened. He handed her back to Gudrun as she brought his food.

  “It’s only groute, but it’s sweet and hot. Eat up, Bjørn, you’ll need your strength,” she said anxiously, lulling the baby against her shoulder.

  They tried not to stare as Bjørn ate, at first wearily, but then more hungrily as his appetite returned. Ralf said in a low voice to Gudrun, “He needed that. He was out searching all night. When we saw him coming in this morning, he could barely hold the oars.”

  Bjørn put the bowl down, and looked at Peer. “So what happened?” he asked.

  There was no way of softening the bleak tale. In a low voice Peer described yet again how Kersten had come running over the dunes, how she’d pushed the baby into his arms and rushed past him to the sea. Bjørn listened in silence. Under the force of his attention, Peer scoured his mind for extra details. He recalled the cold touch of Kersten’s fingers, and the dark tangles of wet hair caught across her face.

  “She looked so wild, I thought something dreadful had happened. I said, ‘What’s wrong, Kersten? Where are you going?’ And all she said was, ‘Home’.”

  Bjørn caught a tense breath. Gudrun coughed. “Well now, Bjørn. What might she mean by that? Where was home, for Kersten?”

  “She wasn’t from round here, was she?” Ralf joined in. “A pretty lass, but foreign? Those looks of hers…”

  They all thought of tall beautiful Kersten with her dark hair and green eyes.

  “She came from the islands,” said Bjørn reluctantly.

  The family nodded. “The islands!”, “Ah…”, “So that explains it!”

  But it doesn’t, thought Peer, it doesn’t explain anything, and we all know it. Why aren’t we talking about what really happened?

  “I must go.” Bjørn got up, stiff as an old man. “Must try and find her…”

  Ralf shook his head in rough pity. “She’s gone, Bjørn. Accept it, lad. Oh, we can search alon
g the shore, but whatever we find, it won’t be your Kersten any more.”

  Bjørn’s face set, so hard and unhappy that Peer jumped to his feet. “But we’ll help him. Won’t we, Ralf?”

  “Of course we will,” began Ralf, but Bjørn laid a hand on his arm. “Kersten’s not dead, Ralf. I know she hasn’t drowned.”

  With a worried frown, Ralf blew out his cheeks and ran his hands through his hair. “Well – if that’s how you feel, Bjørn, we won’t give up yet. What’s your plan?”

  Peer clapped a hand to his mouth. “I forgot!” He looked at Bjørn, stricken. “I completely forgot. When I went to your house last night, you’d been robbed! Your big chest was open, and it was empty. The key was on the floor.”

  Bjørn stared at him. Peer rattled on, afraid to stop. “And so – maybe that upset Kersten?” He faltered. “I should have told you before, but it – it went clean out of my mind. Have you lost something precious?”

  “Don’t worry, Peer, I’d already guessed,” said Bjørn quietly. “Precious? You could say so. Kersten stole the key. She robbed the chest…”

  Gudrun interrupted, her eyes fixed on Bjørn. “She took her sealskin, did she? You kept her sealskin in that chest!”

  “Oh, now come on,” began Ralf, but Bjørn cut across him. “Was it wrong, Gudrun? Do you blame me?”

  “Blame?” said Gudrun. “It’s not for me to judge. Did Kersten blame you?”

  Bjørn shook his head. Locks of his fair hair swung across his face, hiding it. “She never said so. Maybe. Perhaps she’s angry with me. I’ve got to find her. I’ve got to know. It’s out to the skerries I’m bound, and looking for a bull seal with a scarred shoulder…”

  “Why?” Peer rose to his feet, half angry, half incredulous. He imagined Kersten kneeling before the chest, flinging the lid back, dragging out the heavy sealskin, stroking it, wrapping herself in it. “What’s going on? Tell us the truth, Bjørn. Was Kersten really a seal woman? Did you trap her?”

  “Trap her?” Bjørn went white. “We were happy!”

  “Then why did you keep the sealskin locked up?”

  For a second Bjørn looked as if he might hit Peer. “Because I —”

  He gulped and started again. “At first I was afraid she would leave. Then, later, I didn’t think it mattered any more. She was my wife! She wasn’t a prisoner!” The last word was almost a shout.

  “But she ran away!” Peer was breathless. “She ran away from you.”

  “Gods, Peer, what do you take me for?” Bjørn cried. “You don’t know what you’re saying. All right, listen! This is how I found Kersten – and I’ve never told the story to another living soul.”

  Gudrun made a murmur of protest, but Bjørn ignored it.

  “Seven – yes, seven years ago, when Arne was a lad about your age – we were out in the boat, the faering, hunting seal among the skerries. I told Arne to land me on the rocks. I’d hide with a harpoon, waiting for the seals to come, and he could go fishing and come back for me later.

  “So I scrambled ashore on one of the big skerries where the seals lie and watched him row away. It was fine – and fresh – and lonely, when the boat had gone. No seals yet, only a few black cormorants diving for fish, so I found a sheltered place and lay down in the sunshine on a litter of seaweed and sticks and old gulls’ feathers, with my harpoon near at hand.”

  His voice relaxed into a quiet, storytelling rhythm.

  “No sound but the sea and the cries of the cormorants. The rocks felt warm in the sun, winking with bits of crystal. I lay still, so as not to frighten the seals when they came. You know how they float, with their heads just out of the water, watching for danger?

  “And I suppose I dropped off to sleep. When I woke it was low tide. The skerry was bigger, going down in rocky steps to a wide broken platform on the western side. And there they were! I could see the seals basking, scratching themselves in the sunshine. I took my harpoon and climbed over the rocks as quietly as I could.”

  “Go on,” prompted Ralf, as Bjørn fell silent.

  “I was sun-struck, perhaps,” he said slowly. “At least, as I crept over the rocks, I felt dizzy, and my head ached, and I remember seeing and hearing odd things. White bees buzzing around my head. Faces in the stones. The sea gurgling in secret holes under my feet. Voices… And then, on the flat rocks where the seals lay, I saw three fair women sitting. Their dark hair blew in tangled strands, and they combed it out with long fingers. At their feet, three sealskins lay in wet gleaming folds.”

  The family sat spellbound. Bjørn stared at the wall as if seeing right through it to the far-distant skerry and the washing waves.

  “I leaped down the rocks,” he went on in the same far-off voice. “The air was singing and ringing. The sun winked off the water, sharp as needles. In the blink of an eye the women were gone. All but the nearest! As her sisters threw on their skins and plunged into the water with the seals, I snatched up her sealskin. Heavy, it was – glossy and greasy and reeking of the sea.

  “She screamed like a seagull, and her hair fell over her face and her white shoulders. She stretched out pleading fingers. How she wept! I almost gave it back to her – for pity! – but it seemed wrong to wrap such beauty in a stinking sealskin… Then I heard a shout. It was Arne calling, and the boat came knocking along the side of the rocks. And I knew I had to choose.”

  Bjørn’s square brown hands knotted. “I’m just a fisherman!” He looked up defiantly. “There I stood with the catch of my life. Suppose I let her go? I already knew that I was caught, too. I’d never forget her. I’d grow old, still dreaming of her, wishing I’d had the courage to do… what I did then.

  “I threw the sealskin down to Arne. And I put my two arms around her, and wrapped her in my cloak, and lifted her into the boat.”

  Gudrun breathed a long, wistful sigh. Ralf shuffled his feet. Hilde sat frowning, her eyes intent on Bjørn. Even the babies were quiet. Peer’s head ached fiercely. So Bjørn admitted it – he had stolen Kersten! In the silence, Sigrid piped up in a puzzled voice. “Is this a true story, Bjørn?”

  Bjørn gave a brief, unhappy smile. “A true story?” he echoed. “There are so many stories, aren’t there, sweetheart? Who knows which are true? I told Arne a different story, and it may have been a better one. He was sixteen, no older than Peer is now, and I could see he was scared. ‘Who’s this, brother?’ said he, and his teeth chattered. So I told him I’d found the girl stranded on the skerry. ‘Likely, her boat went down,’ I said. ‘But no wonder if she’s a bit dazed. Who knows how many nights and days she’s spent on that rock, with only the seals and the seabirds for company?’

  “Arne accepted it. Even to me, it sounded reasonable. But the weather suddenly changed, with a black squall driving over the sea, and the waves clapping against the skerries in spouts of foam.

  “As the boat tossed and Arne rowed, a face rose out of the water, a face that looked half-human with furious eyes and snarling teeth. A great bull seal it was, that charged at the boat, roaring. He’d have tipped us over. I still had the harpoon. I threw it without even thinking. It sank deep into his shoulder. He screamed, and the line burned though my hands as he dived, and the water around us was streaked with dark blood and red bubbles. Arne gave a shout, and the girl flung herself at me, screeching like a wildcat. I had to hold her off, and we fell down together in the bottom of the boat as it pitched and swung. I was nearly as crazy as she. The seal in the water, what was it? Her father, her brother? I knew I’d done her wrong.

  “At last she lay quiet. Her long hair trailed in the water, over the side of the boat. I looked at her and it came to me that” – Bjørn hesitated – “that I was in love with a wild thing out of the sea. With no name. What words could there be between us? What understanding? And so I gave her the only gift I could. I named her, ‘Kersten’.

  “Kersten,” he repeated gently. “Well, the sea calmed as though we’d thrown oil on the water. And she leaned towards me, shivering and smili
ng. Yes, she smiled at me and took my hand, and she spoke for the first time. ‘Do you really wish me to be Kersten? Can you pay the price?’

  “I said I would, I would pay anything. She put her fingers on my lips.

  “‘Hush! It will be a hard price,’ she said, ‘hard as tearing the heart from your body; and we will both pay it. For as long as you keep the sealskin safe, I will be your Kersten. And while I am with you, the seal folk will befriend you, and drive the mackerel to your nets. But beware of the day we part.’”

  There was quite a silence.

  “So that’s the story.” Bjørn got up, his face bleak. “I kept the sealskin locked away, but the years went by and I got careless. I stopped carrying the key about with me – I left it on the shelf. Surely Kersten knew, although I never told her. I thought she loved me. She did love me! But she took the key and unlocked the sealskin. They’ve called her back, the seal people. Why did she go? Why, without a word to me? After seven years, how could she leave me?

  “I’m going to search for her among the skerries, and I’ll search for that bull seal too, for I’m sure he lives and hates me. If I find him, I’ll see what a second blow can do. I’ve nothing to lose now.”

  “Nothing? What about the baby?” asked Peer.

  “What?” Bjørn sounded as though he hardly understood the question.

  “Your baby,” Peer repeated. A thrill of rage trembled in his voice as he remembered the stumbling nightmare of the journey home. “I brought her back for you last night. You’ve hardly looked at her. We don’t even know her name.”

  Bjørn looked away. “She’s called Ran,” he said flatly. “Her name is Ran.”

  “What sort of an outlandish name —?” Gudrun’s hand flew to her mouth.

  “Kersten wanted a name that came from the sea,” said Bjørn wearily. “Change it, if you don’t like it. Call her Elli. That was the name I would have picked.”