Kin (Helga Finnsdottir)

by Kristjansson, Snorri

  ‘Bastard,’ Bjorn muttered, lining up on the starting line alongside his brothers and sister.

  ‘Sigmar?’ Jaki said.

  ‘Not for me,’ Sigmar said. ‘I caught her once, and a man has to know his luck.’

  Helga glanced over at Hildigunnur. ‘This won’t be . . . nice, will it?’

  Hildigunnur shook her head.

  Moments later, the siblings were lined up on the starting line. Jaki cleared his throat. ‘Aaand – GO—!’

  Karl wasted no time and immediately shouldered Jorunn to the ground.

  ‘HEY!’ she shouted, bounding up almost faster than she’d fallen, but the boys were already a fair bit ahead, with Aslak quickly pulling away from his larger brothers.

  ‘Get out of the way,’ Karl snapped at Bjorn.

  ‘Make me,’ Bjorn said, huffing along.

  Aslak reached the first post and turned sharply, feet sliding on the grass as he fought for balance.

  Horrifyingly slowly, Helga saw what was about to happen.

  Karl’s almost unnoticeable tilt of the head; Jorunn coming up behind them at speed; the big man slowing down just a little too much, just as he was about to turn, his leg pushing out, looking for all the world as if he were sliding, losing his balance . . .

  Just when Jorunn was passing, an arm shot out and caught her square across the face, sending her sprawling.

  ‘Oh,’ Karl shouted. ‘I’m so sorry, Sister!’ he called over his shoulder as he continued running. ‘Didn’t see you!’

  Jorunn was slower to get up this time, but when she did, her entire body was taut with anger. Up ahead, Aslak was closing in on the second corner. She spat, a thick glob of blood – and ran.

  ‘Come on,’ Hildigunnur hissed. Helga glanced over – her mother’s fists were clenched and the old woman was seeing nothing but the racetrack.

  Legs pumping, knees raised, elbows sharp, Jorunn became a sliver, a blade cutting through air and carving up the field. Within moments she had closed the distance on Karl and Bjorn, sidestepping their lurching frames with no more effort than a bird flitting out of the way of a horse. She caught the second corner before them, stepping nimbly around it. Ahead of her, Aslak glanced over his shoulder and then sprinted for all he was worth – but it was useless. Jorunn caught up with him with six yards to go.

  Helga stood with Bragi and Sigrun, who had stopped playing with their bones long enough to watch the finish, as the lithe young woman crossed the line. ‘Did Father win?’ Bragi asked, looking up at his mother with big blue eyes.

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ Runa said, her face like curdling milk. ‘He couldn’t beat his sister, not even with his brothers holding her back.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ Bragi said, turning back to his toys and forgetting about the race in an instant.

  When Aslak crossed the line, Jorunn gave him a quick hug. ‘You’re so fast,’ the young man huffed.

  ‘You’re faster than you were,’ she said. Moments later Karl crossed the line. After a moment to catch his breath, he looked up at his sister. ‘Jorunn – I’m sorry, I was falling – I didn’t see—’

  She spat in his face.

  A thick glob of blood leaked down Karl’s chin.

  ‘Sorry,’ Jorunn said, ‘I didn’t see you there.’

  Bjorn stumbled across the finish line and caught Karl in his arms just as the warrior lurched towards Jorunn, spouting profanities. Then Unnthor stepped in between the siblings and caught Karl’s eye. The furious raider stopped straining at Bjorn’s arms, instead wiping off the gob of spit with the back of his hand.

  Jorunn, flanked by Sigmar and Einar, glared at him.

  ‘Jorunn wins!’ Jaki exclaimed.

  ‘Right,’ Karl said, chest heaving. ‘Done.’

  ‘Not quite,’ Jaki said. ‘There is a new event.’

  ‘What?’ Bjorn said.

  In response, Hildigunnur rose and pulled out a small satchel from her sack.

  ‘What’s that, Gramma?’ Bragi asked, dropping the bones.

  ‘This is my beating stick,’ Hildigunnur said, walking towards the centre of the field. She waited patiently as Jaki and Einar rolled out three tree stumps – two seats and a table. Then she sat down, pulled out a square game board and placed it on the table.

  ‘Oh – what?’ Bjorn groaned. ‘You’re going to make us play?’

  ‘Your mother has decided,’ Unnthor said, ‘somewhat belatedly, that her children should not grow up to be fools. The last trial is to play her. Anyone who defeats her gets to count the win double.’

  ‘I’ll go first,’ Bjorn said. ‘How hard can it be?’ Fifteen moves later, he rose. ‘I always suspected,’ he said loudly, stepping away from the table, ‘that she was a witch.’

  Hildigunnur smiled and reset the board for the next game.

  Karl was next. He sat down with a scowl, glaring at the pieces as if he could scare them into place.

  A while later, Bjorn glanced over Jorunn’s shoulder. ‘He hasn’t started screaming,’ he noted, ‘so he must be doing—’

  ‘WHAT THE—?’ Karl yelled. ‘HOW THE—?’ The rest of the sentence was drowned in colliding vowels.

  ‘—reasonably well,’ Jorunn finished for him.

  Moments later Karl stood up from the table. ‘This is a stupid game,’ he growled. ‘And you probably—’

  ‘—want to go away and think about it for a while before you say anything else,’ Unnthor said, inching closer to his wife’s shoulder.

  Seething with anger, Karl snorted and walked off.

  ‘Aslak,’ Hildigunnur said. ‘Your turn.’

  The slim man sat down opposite her. ‘You know I can’t beat you, Mother,’ he said.

  The old woman smiled. ‘I know.’

  ‘So I do not wish to play.’

  She looked him up and down. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I can spend our time better doing something less heroic and more clever,’ Aslak said. Hildigunnur smiled, and Aslak rose from the table.

  Jorunn sat down before being summoned. ‘Mother,’ she said.

  ‘Daughter,’ Hildigunnur replied.

  The first moves on both sides were dispatched quickly, then Hildigunnur slowed down. ‘You’ve been playing,’ she said.

  Jorunn glanced at Sigmar. ‘We have a set at home,’ she said.

  Hildigunnur looked at the Swede with renewed interest. ‘I didn’t know that,’ she said. ‘Do you like it?’ She made her move.

  ‘It’s an interesting game,’ Jorunn said, moving immediately.

  Later, with all the family gathered around them, Jorunn reached out and tipped her king to the side. ‘I am defeated,’ she said.

  ‘You are,’ Hildigunnur said, looking her daughter up and down. ‘This time, I suppose.’

  The look she gave her daughter was one Helga had not seen before.

  Chapter 7

  Edge

  It was well past midday when they finally started the walk back to Riverside. With sun warming her skin, food in her belly and the scent of summer in the air, Helga allowed her feet to guide her as she took in the familiar sights – a horizon of fields to the right, sparse trees massing gradually into forest on the left. She closed her eyes and smiled. Just a moment, she thought. Just a moment of peace—

  ‘That went better than we thought, didn’t it?’

  Einar’s voice by her ear made her jump. ‘What?’

  ‘The games – no blood, no broken teeth or bones, no deaths. The old folks won in the end. Once they got something to gnaw on and a little mead in their bellies, the brothers calmed down – storm’s blown over. We’re safe.’

  Helga thought back on what she’d seen in the field: those clenched fists, hateful looks, pursed lips. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ she said. Her stomach felt suddenly tense, like she’d swallowed a
rock. ‘I’d still step carefully and keep my mouth shut for the next little while.’

  ‘Why?’ Einar said.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Helga said. ‘I just . . . I feel like there’s something about to happen.’

  ‘And what do you base this on?’ he scoffed. ‘Woman’s knowledge?’

  Helga glared. ‘Yes. Anything wrong with that?’ Her heart thumped and her hand went to touch the rune-stone amulet.

  ‘Um . . . but there’s no—’

  ‘Proof? Would you like me to tell Hildigunnur that you think intuition is stupid and useless without proof?’

  Einar’s alarmed face was almost enough to calm her down. Almost. ‘You know what, Einar Jakason? You go ahead: stomp around, swing your elbows and say whatever you want to Karl and Bjorn – but don’t expect my sympathy when the knives come out.’

  There was a silence as the words hung dark and dangerous in the air between them.

  ‘What do you mean, knives?’ Einar said quietly.

  Helga prised her fingers away from the rune-stone around her neck. The heavy feeling was gone, but there was no relief in it. ‘I – don’t know,’ she said. ‘I just . . . said it.’

  Einar looked her over as if seeing her for the first time. ‘There’s something about you,’ he said. ‘Something different.’

  ‘Flattery will get you nothing but trouble,’ Helga replied, her voice flat.

  He looked back at his father, who was bringing up the rear.

  He looks scared, Helga thought.

  ‘I should go and help,’ he said.

  ‘See you later.’ A chill crept up on her, and somewhere in the back of her head she felt like she could hear a whisper of something; she could almost catch the glimpse of a shadow, but it remained elusive.

  *

  Jorunn, further up the line, leaned in towards Sigmar. ‘So what do you make of my family, Husband?’ she asked.

  ‘Much like you said,’ Sigmar replied after glancing over her shoulder to confirm that they were out of earshot. ‘Karl’s still a bastard, Bjorn’s an oaf.’

  ‘And Aslak?’

  ‘What about him?’

  Jorunn smiled. ‘He’s small and quiet, but don’t underestimate him.’

  ‘I won’t. Will he get in our way?’

  ‘No,’ Jorunn said, ‘not if we tread carefully.’

  ‘And just to be certain – you’re absolutely sure?’

  ‘I am.’ Jorunn looked at him. ‘My father can protest all he likes, but there is treasure hidden somewhere on the farm.’

  ‘Keep walking,’ Sigmar murmured, ‘and listening, and watching. We’ll get our chance – and we’ll take it.’ He smiled and inclined his head in greeting as Helga walked past them, but the girl didn’t seem to notice.

  *

  Nothing makes sense, Helga thought. Even though the feeling she’d had when talking to Einar was gone, the memory of how it had felt when the inside of her head was like the air before a thunderstorm still lingered. She glanced at Aslak, busy corralling his children. In their merry confusion, the three of them looked happy.

  A burst of deep, rough laughter from Bjorn, striding ahead with Hildigunnur, broke her trance. Helga caught a fleeting glimpse of the cheeky grin on her mother’s face. Finally, an appreciative audience for her rude jokes. The thought made her smile, and the sensations of summer caught up with her. Her mood lifted again. It was nothing, just a remnant of a bad dream. She’d make up with Einar later. Like before, now that she was standing close to Bjorn, the big man’s mass just drew her in. He was deep in conversation with Hildigunnur, and she was close enough now to make out the words.

  ‘I’ve tried leaving her with him, but that doesn’t work either,’ he said. ‘That bull, he’s having none of it.’

  ‘Maybe he likes his grass? Have you thought of covering her tail in it and having him eat his way in?’ Hildigunnur said.

  What are they—? Then Helga went beetroot-red as her mind supplied her with images. She stared hard at her feet. The path had turned into road and was now curving past the trees and into the clearing. Riverside sat in front of them, sparkling in the reflected light from the fast-running water.

  Bjorn chuckled again. ‘Mother, you’re dreadful! He’ll figure it out at some point . . . he’s done it before.’

  Hildigunnur acknowledged Helga with a nod as she walked alongside them. ‘If all else fails, send him my way. I’ll have him spend some time with Unnthor.’

  ‘MOTHER!’ Bjorn and Helga cried in unison, making Hildigunnur positively cackle with mirth.

  ‘I love you, my children, but I’m pretty sure you’d all like to believe you were found in the woods. And speaking of – can one of you fetch me some firewood?’ She opened the gate and stepped into the farmyard. Helga had heard stories of queens at court, but could imagine none more regal than Hildigunnur.

  ‘That’d be me, then – Twiglet here can hardly lift herself, let alone a bit of kindling,’ Bjorn said, winking at Helga.

  ‘Oh, she’s stronger than she looks,’ Hildigunnur said. ‘But you go, my little troll-baby,’ she added, standing up on her tiptoes and kissing the giant’s cheek.

  Bjorn pushed her off, grinning. ‘So what does that make you, Mother?’

  ‘Able to live with your father and raise the lot of you,’ Hildigunnur shot back. ‘Axe is in the tool-shed. Go north, up the hill – there’s a side path to the bit there your father’s trying to clear. You’ll find it. Drop it with the new wood when you’re done, but don’t chop down more than you can carry.’

  ‘I never do, Mother.’ Bjorn grinned, and strode away.

  ‘Come on, lazy-bones,’ Hildigunnur said. ‘We need to get going on the preparations for tomorrow night.’

  Helga trailed after her. Being within the fence, in the farmyard, felt safe. Contained.

  *

  The wolfhound barked once in greeting at Bjorn as he walked past, and the big man stopped and knelt down to scratch the dog behind the ears, then walked away from the thumping tail and towards Jaki’s tool-shed. When he emerged a few moments later he was carrying an axe with a thick haft, a real woodcutter’s tool. ‘Probably broken a few bones, this one,’ he muttered, glancing at the oft-sharpened blade. The dog gazed pleadingly at him as he walked back towards the fence. ‘A clearing?’ He looked at the solid wall of trees hugging the foot of the hill. ‘Why doesn’t the old goat just take these? Well, best do what Mother says,’ he continued, marching past the trees and towards the path, as she’d ordered. The air was still in the lee of the trees and a smile spread across his face as he climbed the hill.

  He found the side path without much trouble – then he heard a cry, quickly muted.

  Axe at the ready, Bjorn burst into the clearing – only to see a flash of white skin – legs and arms, and a broad back – and Runa on the ground, pulling at Karl’s hair, pushing at him, urging him on.

  ‘Behind you!’ she hissed in her lover’s ear, and he stopped mid-thrust and looked over his shoulder at the giant with the axe.

  It took him a moment to understand the situation.

  ‘Pretend you didn’t—’ Karl began, but Bjorn had already turned away.

  With a mighty swing he buried the axe in the nearest tree. Without looking at the two of them, he spoke. ‘Mother needs firewood.’ Then he walked away.

  *

  The moment he left, Runa’s hand was on the nape of Karl’s neck, stroking his skin. ‘Come on,’ she whispered, pulling him closer, ‘don’t stop.’

  Karl pushed her off and rose to his knees, pulling his trousers up over his deflating cock. ‘I’m done,’ he said.

  ‘Well, I’m not,’ Runa said, flashing a seductive smile as she rose to reach for his thigh.

  Karl pushed her hand away and stood up. ‘I said I’m done.’

  Anger flashed in her eyes a
s she scrabbled to her feet, reflexively straightening out her dress and shaking the grass and twigs from her hair. ‘But I thought—’

  ‘Well, you shouldn’t have. I just needed to fuck something.’

  Tears welled up in her eyes and her jaw clenched in fury. She bit her lip, then took to her heels and ran away from the farm, heading deeper into the forest.

  Karl squeezed his eyes shut and sighed.

  He opened them again and, stepping over to where the axe was buried in the tree, muttered, ‘Right. Firewood.’ He pulled on the handle, but the blade didn’t budge. Cursing, Karl yanked the axe back and forth, again and again, until he was finally moving the blade, just a fingernail’s width at a time.

  *

  Helga always felt that working in the longhouse with her mother was a privilege. Everything became nicely rhythmic and quiet and her mind wandered as she wielded the knife automatically, chopping carrots.

  ‘Be kind to your old mother and fetch me some more wood,’ Hildigunnur asked. ‘We need a little more heat under the pot.’

  The sunlight hit Helga in the face as she stepped out and she had to squeeze her eyes shut for a while to get used to it. She could faintly hear the children, splashing down by the river, and had no trouble at all imagining Gytha’s bored face as she sat there looking after them.

  Her feet carried her around the house to the shadowy end, and the shelter where the wood was stacked. She glanced at the few cords of green wood. Glad someone else has been sent out to get more. She gathered up an armful of seasoned firewood and carried it back carefully, checking the ground even though she was pretty sure she could walk that route blindfolded. She dumped her load in the wood-basket. ‘Done.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Hildigunnur said. ‘Did Bjorn get a lot?’

  ‘Didn’t look like it,’ Helga said. ‘I don’t think he’s been back. The axe is still out.’

  ‘Hm.’ She grabbed three logs and threw them on the fire, and the hungry flames immediately grasped for the wood.

  Behind them, the door opened and Bjorn ducked in.

  Hildigunnur turned to him. ‘Where is my lumber, you big oaf?’