Kin (Helga Finnsdottir)

by Kristjansson, Snorri

  The Swede just watched him, a trace of a smile on his face. ‘Are you waiting for me to fall to the floor of old age?’

  Two steps, and Aslak was upon him. Then he was moving swiftly backwards and up, and not of his own volition. The thud when he hit the floor was followed by an ‘ooh’ from the guests; there was a wheeze as Aslak tried desperately to catch his breath.

  ‘Maybe this is how you put your woman on her back,’ Sigmar said, to laughter and catcalls. Then with a glint in his eye, he leaned down towards Aslak’s ear. He whispered—

  *

  Farmers and Swedes alike had stopped shouting at each other. Through Hildigunnur’s hard work, order had been restored again, but the carefree talk had vanished and been replaced with surly glances over the brims of mugs that were not staying full for long.

  Sigmar sat in the corner, his back to the wall, scowling and clutching a sodden rag to his cheek. ‘That little shit.’

  ‘I agree.’ Helga refilled his mug.

  ‘Hel take him and wolves feast on his face – the little bastard bit me.’

  ‘Mm.’

  ‘Anywhere but here, he’d be taken outside and taught a lesson.’

  ‘Mm.’

  Sigmar glared at the backs of Unnthor and Hildigunnur. ‘I should have known.’

  ‘What?’ Keep him talking. They love the sound of their own voice.

  ‘That I couldn’t say that.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  A wicked glint in Sigmar’s eye once again. ‘I told him Runa liked it just fine when Karl did it to her.’

  Quickly, laugh. She forced a giggle, hiding the falseness of it behind her hand. ‘He won’t have liked that.’

  ‘No,’ Sigmar said. ‘They’re heavy on the pride here. Even Jorunn wasn’t quite on my side for this one.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think you did anything wrong.’ Gently does it. ‘He insulted you, so you insulted him. Unnthor is very serious about his name, so why shouldn’t you be? Fair’s fair.’ Helga frowned, as if she was thinking carefully.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘A man should be allowed to stand his ground.’

  A cloud passed across Sigmar’s features. ‘Yes,’ he said, glancing over her shoulder.

  That’d be Jorunn, then. In the net you go, big fish. ‘And a man should get what rightfully belongs to him.’

  ‘Yes, you’d think so.’ Still scanning.

  He needs to think that I’m making a decision. ‘It’s not right.’ She paused. ‘My father hoards his gold, but it’s here, you know. For restitution.’

  That got his attention. Sigmar looked at her for the first time, and Helga felt her stomach sink. There was a coldness to this one, something unblinking and unerring. She felt suddenly relieved that the Swede had been on his best behaviour. ‘So she was right. Find me proof and you will be rewarded.’

  ‘I will,’ she said. The smile on her lips was only half forced, and she took her excuse to get up and go gladly, absolutely certain that if she looked back she’d catch his eye again. Just enough time to convince him that I know where it is, and then . . .

  The sounds and smells of the house pushed at her, but she ignored them. The cold thrill of the game made her forearms prickle.

  *

  Once outside, she stopped in the yard and drew a deep breath. As she exhaled, she gazed up at the white dots in the sky. The sounds of a summer night were like a soft whisper after the racket of the house, mixing with the thudding of blood in her ears. ‘Sssh,’ she whispered to her hand, resting above her heart. ‘Shusssh. Just a couple of moments.’ Where on earth would she find proof of a buried treasure? Her plan, she realised, had been half-cooked.

  Force someone to do . . . something.

  She could hear someone starting up a song inside, rising suddenly in volume, then getting quiet again. It sounded almost like someone had opened a door—

  —a strong, rough hand grabbed her by the arm just above the elbow and yanked, hard. Another on her neck was dragging her forward. Her breath caught in her throat as she stumbled, and in a panic she tried to force her feet to catch up so she didn’t end up on her face in the dirt. It took her a few heartbeats to realise who the shadowy figure was.

  ‘Oi! Let go of me—!’

  ‘Shut up,’ Einar snapped. Something in his voice sounded different, thicker, but as she was being half-dragged, half-hauled behind a shed she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. As they rounded the corner he spun her around so she was facing him.

  Moonlight caught on his face, sparkling on tear-stained cheeks.

  ‘It was me, Helga.’ She could hear it now, the lump in his throat. ‘It was me. I stabbed Bjorn in the back. I killed him – I killed him like a coward.’

  She looked at the boy she’d grown up with and searched for the truth in his eyes.

  No, you didn’t. You’re as strong as an ox and you would have left nothing to chance.

  She had to shift her weight in order not to keel over. ‘Calm down,’ she murmured, reaching out to touch his forearm, but Einar jerked his arm away as if she were made of fire.

  ‘No,’ he hissed, ‘don’t touch me. I’m telling you. I killed him. I murdered big Bjorn Unnthorsson, and now I must have my head cracked – not that idiot boy. It was me.’

  Her heart thudded and she grasped for the words. ‘Einar . . . why are you telling me?’

  ‘Because I’ve been watching you all night. You’ve been asking questions, pushing people – and you would have found out eventually.’

  ‘And why did you do it?’

  Hesitation. Just a moment, but it was there. ‘Because he should have— Because he shouldn’t have killed Karl.’

  And how do you know he killed Karl?

  But for some reason the question didn’t fly out. It almost escaped her lips – but the sight of the boy she called her brother, chest heaving and tears streaming down his face, stopped her tongue and instead, the unanswered question just sat there, unspoken. Suddenly her heartbeats felt miles apart, and everything that had been bothering her came back.

  Who was the other person speaking to Bjorn?

  Who knew that Bjorn killed Karl?

  Who are you protecting?

  Helga closed her eyes ever so slowly. When she opened them again, she knew and understood.

  ‘You know I have to tell Hildigunnur.’

  ‘Yes,’ Einar said.

  ‘Don’t go back to the house. Go to your shed. She’ll not want this done in front of the guests.’

  Einar nodded.

  ‘We will talk about it. There will be something to be done.’

  He nodded again.

  ‘Now go,’ she said, shooing him away like she’d done a hundred times before, forcing a little joy into her voice. ‘You’ve told me, I’ll tell Hildigunnur and we will get this right.’

  As he sniffled and moved off, she saw a ghost of a smile on his face. He looked like a little boy. She shook her head and smiled. Even though the danger was greater than it had ever been, she felt satisfied. The dam had burst.

  It was time to let the river flow.

  *

  It hadn’t taken her long to get used to the noise of the house. They were singing in full voice now, red-faced and happy, eyes on each other and the mugs. She’d found Jaki and whispered in his ear, and to his everlasting praise Unnthor’s man hadn’t asked any questions. Instead he’d nodded and even smiled at her, impishly, like she was asking him to pull a prank. Now she just needed to find—

  There.

  Helga gently snuck past her father and two of his friends from three farms down and found Jorunn. She made sure she caught the young woman’s eye and held it. Then she leaned in close.

  ‘I know what you did,’ she whispered, smiling. ‘I know why, and I know where Father’s hoard is, and I
want my share or I’ll tell them everything and you will not walk out of here.’

  She was her mother’s daughter, so Jorunn Unnthorsdottir’s smile didn’t even falter. Instead she tilted her head ever so slightly and nodded, a twinkle in her eye. ‘Lovely. We could maybe talk about this somewhere more . . . private?’

  Helga matched her, twinkle for twinkle. ‘Of course. Follow me.’

  She turned and headed towards the exit, all too aware she was being followed intently. Once out, the door didn’t even come close to swinging shut on Jorunn’s striding form. Helga made sure to lengthen her step. Let the bitch run to catch me. Past one building – another – and then—

  Helga ducked into Einar’s tool-shed. The speed of her appearance made the young man whirl and put up his arms as some sort of protection.

  ‘I thought—’ He didn’t have time to finish the sentence. The door slammed open and Jorunn burst in. The words tumbled out of him. ‘I told her, Jorunn. I told her I killed Bjorn.’

  ‘You useless little boy,’ Jorunn snapped. ‘She knows you didn’t. In fact, this bitch knows way too much.’ The knife was in her hand suddenly – and very comfortably, Helga noted. Stubby little thing, thick blade.

  It’ll match Bjorn’s wounds. And this is the end. I’ll be murdered on my own farm.

  ‘What?’ Einar moved towards them. ‘No, my love – you can’t.’

  ‘My love?’ The young woman’s face twisted in gleeful fury. ‘You think you love me? Get this shitty little brat to milk you until you get rid of that idea, boy.’

  Helga looked at Einar, whose face had drained of all colour. ‘But – you said—’

  ‘“You said”,’ she replied, mocking him. ‘So what did I say, then?’

  ‘You said Bjorn had planted the knife in Sigmar’s bed and that we just needed to place it back with Bjorn and that’d be that.’

  ‘And you couldn’t find your balls for even a moment,’ Jorunn hissed. ‘You kept keening like a little bitch, saying we should go and get the old folks – which would have been a great idea.’ Her voice dripped with contempt. ‘Because they would definitely have sided with my husband the Swede against their own son. And then what did you do? Eh?’ She was squaring up to Einar now, her knife not quite pointed away from him.

  He stood there, terrified, like a surprised deer.

  ‘That’s right,’ Jorunn purred, moving towards him, a snake about to strike. ‘Absolutely nothing. That’s what you did, you big, strong boy. And because you took so fucking long to search for your dick’ – she was spitting now, snapping the words off, hurling them at him like stones – ‘my darling brother showed up and you did absolutely nothing about that either. Did you ever stop to think about who killed Karl? And why Bjorn would have had the knife? He slit my brother’s veins and tried to plant the knife on Sigmar, who I was never supposed to marry, and so he had to be taken care of. And when I’d done that, you had no ideas, none at all, so I had to slip the knife into his idiot son’s bed.

  ‘And after all of this, you think I love you?’ She looked him up and down, and now there was a note of pity in her voice. ‘There is nothing to love about you, or this place, or anyone in it.’ She surveyed her captives and seemed to settle. She’d won, and she was going to enjoy it.

  ‘We are just here for the treasure, pure and simple. You see, I have a problem. I deal mostly with rich old men who have the time to lounge on King Eirik’s bearskins, look down on people like me and withhold the best parts of their business. To them I am an outsider, and I always will be. The only thing they’ll understand is gold. I thought I could get Karl to force the issue by paying an old salt to pretend to be Havard Greybeard, but that didn’t work. I thought I could squeeze some sympathy out of Mother with marriage troubles, or training Aslak’s scab of a wife for him, but that didn’t work either. So listen, here’s what I am going to do. I am going to gut this bitch here, and then I am going to run crying to my mother and tell her you tried to force yourself on me, that she found you and you stabbed her – after all, you’ve already murdered my poor brothers. Karl and Bjorn are dead to advance your own cause. I’ll give you a head-start – pray that you know the woods better than my father. Worst comes to worst? They’ll split the treasure between me and Aslak – and then I’ll accidentally lose the baby before it becomes apparent that I may not be all that pregnant. Now, stand back, or I’m going to gut you too.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’ Unnthor’s voice through the wall was calm and steady, with only the hint of a growl.

  Helga remembered to breathe.

  ‘But if you step out of the hut, now, and throw the knife on the ground, I might just let you live.’

  Jorunn looked like she’d been hit with a club. She blinked, and her mouth opened and closed.

  She’s probably trying to guess how much he heard, Helga thought, then she wondered, Can she lie her way out of this?

  ‘Out. NOW.’

  A slow smile spread across Helga’s face, quite against her will. I guess that’s a ‘no’, then.

  The outside of the hut was awash in torchlight. The farmers of the Dales suddenly looked quite different, much more like Unnthor. Some held torches; all held weapons. Helga remembered what her mother always said, when someone stopped by to borrow something or for a chat or a bit of advice: This valley is full of old friends. And when they were gathered behind Unnthor, all united in a single purpose, it wasn’t so hard to imagine them thirty, forty years ago, sailing together to the west, testing themselves against the world. Sigmar and his men stood tightly bunched together, by their horses but without their weapons. She looked around for Jaki and found him leaning casually on a barrel full of spears and axes, grinning, his hand resting nonchalantly on a club the size of a giant’s thighbone.

  ‘We all heard,’ Unnthor said.

  Jorunn opened her mouth, but her father’s massive palm, upraised, stopped her. ‘And enough blood has been spilled on my land. I do not wish to exact the blood-price from the two of you’ – the animal within Helga cowered, curled up and made herself as small as possible under her father’s gaze, but the fury in his eyes was reserved for Jorunn and Sigmar – ‘but I will if I must. The treasure you seek – my “hoard” – will go to paying the wergild for my sons, for Karl and Bjorn. It will pay for your life – and we never want to see either of you again. Now get on your horses and ride.’

  ‘Where do you—?’ Sigmar started, but Unnthor raised his hand again to stop him.

  ‘I don’t care where you go,’ the old chieftain said, ‘but if you ever set foot in these Dales again, you will be hunted down like vermin, hung from a branch and skinned.’ He paused, and his voice was not loud, but everyone heard every word. ‘I will keep you alive for days.’

  After that, nothing else needed to be said.

  The Dalesmen stood behind Unnthor and Hildigunnur like the trees of a dark forest as the Swedes mounted up. More than one of them glanced at the barrel of weapons that Jaki had stolen from them, but they knew better than to ask.

  Jorunn and Sigmar rode away in silence.

  Chapter 19

  Leaving

  After the long night came the painful morning.

  Time passed in a haze. Jorunn and Sigmar’s departure had left a void, like drawing a spike out of flesh, and nobody quite knew what to do with themselves. The occasional cloud drifted across the sky, showing no care whatsoever for the business of the people milling about below. Regular farm work resumed, after a fashion, but no one’s heart was in it.

  They walk as if asleep, Helga thought. Like they don’t want to wake and remember what happened.

  By mid-morning, Aslak and Runa had got the children organised and their goods packed and were ready to go. The residents of Riverside walked them to the gate.

  ‘Come to visit. Please.’ Hildigunnur’s hand on her son’s forearm was gentle but firm. Behind her, Un
nthor loomed sympathetically.

  ‘We will,’ Runa said, and to her surprise, Helga believed her. Something had changed in the angry woman during the visit. What, she couldn’t quite figure out – but something had, something important.

  As the gate closed, the men returned to their chores, but Hildigunnur lingered and watched the little family growing smaller and smaller in the distance. Helga debated and decided that staying would be kinder. The fact that it gave her a reprieve from her chores was neither here nor there.

  ‘That’s my only son now,’ Hildigunnur said softly.

  There was nothing to say, so Helga hugged her, hard.

  They stood there together, watching the road that led from Riverside to the world for a while.

  *

  Agla and Gytha were also ready to go now. The new widow ­enveloped Hildigunnur in a crushing embrace, and sniffling loudly, even managed to shed a couple of tears.

  Ugh. There wasn’t even a word in Helga’s mind, just a vaguely face-twisting feeling not dissimilar to berry poisoning. She’d noted the identical looks on their faces when Hildigunnur handed over the wergild for Karl – the joyful greed, the lust for gold – and now they stood there, just past the gate, two women who, but for the age difference, looked and sounded just about the same: mother and daughter, suddenly awash in the world.

  The moment they mounted, though, Gytha transformed: she sat up straight on her horse and looked down at her grandparents, her lips tight.

  Oho, Helga thought. Somewhere out there a princeling is in want of a future queen.

  ‘Goodbye, all,’ Agla said. ‘We will be sending messages wherever we end up, and we too will be aiming to visit.’

  ‘Make sure that you do,’ Unnthor rumbled.

  Gytha was the first to spur her horse; the mare responded enthusiastically, bored after days turned out in the meadow, and the two women bolted down the road.

  Helga looked at Hildigunnur, who was not trying to hide the cold smirk on her face.

  ‘“Wherever we end up” indeed!’ she said.

  *