Daughter of Fire and Ice (29 page)

‘Perhaps this fire is hotter,’ said Bjorn.

We turned and rode away. I was relieved, but Bjorn kept turning in the saddle to look back.

We rode on and came across bright blue pools of stinking hot water. They smelt, as our own hot spring did, of rotten eggs. But much, much stronger. I pulled my cloak across my face and breathed through it, trying to escape the stench.

There were cracks in the bare yellow earth where steam came hissing or whistling out in a never-ending stream. And there were pools of black, bubbling mud, like the cooking cauldron of some giant troll. I scanned the vast, empty landscape uneasily; half suspecting some giant or troll might really appear. It was as if we were walking in some story or nightmare country.

‘If it were not for the bright blue sky overhead, I would think we had arrived in the underworld,’ remarked Bjorn perplexed as we passed another place where steam poured from a hole in the earth.

We rode on and emerged from between two black, barren mountains into quite a different landscape. A vast green area stretched before us, studded with shining lakes and hills. The dogs bounded ahead of us, happy at the change of scene. They ran with their tails held high and their noses down, sniffing this more promising place.

I looked behind us, and then ahead again.

‘How is such a contrast possible in such a short distance?’ I demanded.

‘I’m as puzzled by all this as you,’ said Bjorn. ‘I’d never dreamed such places could exist. We’ve not found our forests, and however green this place is here, I think we are better off on the coast.’

‘I shouldn’t like to live too close to that fire mountain,’ I agreed. ‘And without timber, there would be no way of building a house here. Besides, at least on the coast, there is fish to eat when all else fails.’

Bjorn nodded. ‘Yes, and passing ships to trade with. But I had in mind to get away from ships and hide a little.’

I hesitated before I replied.

‘I think … if anyone comes looking for us, they will find us here too,’ I said. ‘There will be people to tell them where we’ve gone.’

Bjorn sighed. ‘You are right, of course. And there are no forests on the scale I had hoped. I never imagined all that smoke could be caused by a mountain burning.’

‘Do you think the mountain caused the earth to shake as well?’ I asked, puzzled. ‘We’ve never found out what happened that night.’

‘It’s possible, Thora. It’s as good an explanation as any other.’

‘There are trees ahead though.’ I pointed into the distance.

I was right. The lake was a warm and sheltered spot and trees grew taller than anything we had yet seen. No trees that would yield building timber, but I found bark I needed and plants we hadn’t found elsewhere. I collected busily, picking, cutting and sorting the plants I found, while Bjorn took the dogs and went exploring nearby and hunted more duck.

The lakeside was swarming with midges that got in our eyes and noses, and bothered the horses, so we pitched camp some distance back from the water’s edge.

‘And I was afraid we’d starve,’ Bjorn said cheerfully. ‘There’s little enough game in this country.’

‘Thank Freya for the birds,’ I agreed as I began the messy job of preparing nightmeal.

We were merry that night. I was relieved to have found some of the plants I needed and that made me light-hearted. Constraint had disappeared once more and we talked and laughed as we ate and threw scraps to the dogs.

‘There’s something I want to ask you,’ I said, as the fire died to a warm glow. We were sitting side by side on a fallen log by the fire.

‘Ask away,’ replied Bjorn with a smile.

I threw another piece of wood onto the flames in front of us. It caught and crackled and then I spoke.

‘Your real name,’ I said. ‘Will you tell me what it is?’

Bjorn’s face closed again, with the same pain as when I’d asked him to tell stories the night before.

‘My real name is so far back in time,’ he said. ‘Only my parents used it. I had a slave name most of my life and that’s not worth remembering. I’m not that person any longer. Ask me something else.’

I felt sad for the life Bjorn had had. It made my compassion for his present unhappy marriage even stronger. I wished with all my heart that things could have been different.

‘I don’t have another question,’ I said, sadly.

‘Then I have one for you. When Kari died of the fever, you said something. It’s piqued my curiosity ever since.’

‘I did?’ I tried to remember what I might have said.

‘You knew he was dying. You said his aura was “bleeding colours”. You read auras?’

I felt the colour flood my face and stared into the fire. It had been a moment of carelessness, of unguarded emotion. Silently, I nodded.

‘Why do you keep that secret?’ Bjorn’s voice was very soft, as though he knew he was trespassing on dangerous territory.

‘Because people think it’s prying. They think I can tell what they’re thinking. But it’s not like that. I use it to read health … and moods too. I can tell a lot about a person from their aura, but not really what they’re thinking.’

‘And is this something anyone can learn?’ asked Bjorn.

‘Yes … I think so. But some people can see more clearly, more easily than others. I’ve always seen them.’

‘So,’ Bjorn said, laying a hand on mine. ‘Tell me about my aura.’

I started at his touch, my heart beating uncomfortably fast. I had an impulse to return his clasp, but I made myself remain passive, my hand lying still beneath his. I half turned to look at him. The sun had long gone, leaving us in muted light. I could see his aura glowing around his head and shoulders.

‘It’s blue. It’s almost always blue. It means you are balanced, calm. You’re a survivor.’

I glanced up at him again and saw that the glow was no longer a simple blue. There were shades of pink mingling with it, feelings of love and affection. I felt breathless suddenly. I had been unsure of his feelings for me, but now I knew beyond all doubt.

‘And is that all you see?’ asked Bjorn, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing it softly. His closeness, his touch, affected me so strongly that I could hardly breathe. I wanted him to go on, to take me in his arms. Then the wrongness of my own longings hit me. I pulled away from him and got up.

‘I’m … very tired now. I need to sleep,’ I said, and began to unroll my sleeping furs to hide the fact that I wanted to cry.

‘Thora,’ said Bjorn reproachfully. I didn’t respond, and kept my face turned from him. For a few moments, Bjorn continued to look at me, and then, with a sigh, he picked up his own furs and moved to the other side of the fire.

The horses were picketed close to us, tearing up mouthfuls of lush green grass. We didn’t speak again as we settled to sleep. The birds were calling to one another with haunting, eerie cries on the lake. The world was at peace. I took a long time to find my inner calm again.

We travelled on some distance beyond the lakes, but the ground rose steeply, becoming steadily more barren and inhospitable. Even the birdlife became sparser.

‘I think we should turn homewards,’ said Bjorn at last. ‘There is nothing for us here. We’re very well off on the coast.’

I agreed, but privately I was sorry to be heading back. These days had been precious, as sweet as summer fruit, and I never wanted them to end. I didn’t want to return to Ragna and living at a distance from Bjorn, despite being in the same house. But the farm and the harvest called us home. There was a great deal of work to be done.

We agreed it would be safest to retrace our steps. Bjorn was afraid that if we took a different route, we might not be able to find a crossing place on the river.

The journey home passed much more swiftly than the outward trek had done. We no longer stopped to wonder at every new sight. First we continued to talk and laugh, but as we drew closer to home, we both became more silent. I pondered our situation ceaselessly. We loved one another still; I knew that for sure now. Bjorn was as unhappy as I. But I could see no possible solution. Bjorn could not divorce Ragna. That would be dishonourable. She could divorce him, but I knew very well she never would. She valued her position as head of the household. I sometimes suspected too, that she had feelings for Bjorn, even though he avoided her when he could, and never lay with her. She certainly desired his approval. But her perverse nature prompted her to fight Bjorn and she couldn’t help punishing him when he displeased her. How differently I would have treated him in her place.

‘I don’t like the look of that cloud,’ Bjorn broke a long silence to say. I jumped, startled to find the object of my musings so close to me. I looked around me and saw we were already facing the last ascent across the mountains to the coast.

I looked up where Bjorn was pointing and saw a heavy black cloud gathering over the mountains and beginning to roll down their rocky sides towards us.

‘Perhaps they’ll pass,’ I said hopefully.

Bjorn looked doubtful. ‘We can try to continue,’ he said. ‘If bad weather comes in, it could last days, and I don’t want to be away from the farm much longer.’

He looked worried, so we pushed on up the hill. The horses puffed and sweated and the cloud rolled closer. When it engulfed us, it was as if someone had thrown water on the fire. All the heat and light went out of the day. We were shrouded in whiteness, unable to see our way. We halted and I slid to the ground, stiff after several hours in the saddle.

‘What should we do?’ I asked.

‘I’m not sure,’ admitted Bjorn. ‘But it won’t help to go back. This weather is moving in fast.’

‘Let’s go on then,’ I agreed reluctantly, pulling the reins over my horse’s head so I could lead him.

We moved forward very slowly straining our eyes to see a few paces ahead. Bjorn whistled the dogs to us and kept them close to help us find our way. The mist began to soak into my clothes and chill me. Soon it began to rain. A light drizzle at first and then gradually more persistent.

Our progress was painfully slow and we hadn’t yet reached the highest point when the horse Bjorn was riding stumbled. It staggered and managed to avoid falling, but Bjorn dismounted at once. Clapping its flank, he spoke soothingly to it. Then he spoke over his shoulder to me.

‘It’s late and the horses are tired. We’re not going to make it home today. Let’s find a place to stop.’

‘But it’s so cold,’ I objected. ‘How can we spend the night up here?’

Bjorn handed me his reins, and disappeared into the fog with the dogs. I could hear him calling to them and whistling from time to time, but the sounds were muffled by the fog. It was eerie and frightening to be left alone. I didn’t like it. I was relieved when I heard Bjorn heading back. When one of the dogs appeared out of the mist and thrust his cold, wet nose into my hand, I greeted him with relief.

‘There’s shelter of sorts this way,’ I heard Bjorn say. He loomed suddenly dark out of the whiteness and took his horses’ reins out of my hands. ‘Follow me.’

Slowly we made our way through the fog. The grass was wet and squelchy underfoot. I couldn’t imagine sleeping on it.

Bjorn led me up a steep slope to a rocky outcrop. There was a big rock between us and the wind direction and a small hollow we could camp in. It was freezing cold and a far cry from the homely, comfortable camps we had made so far. But I was tired and the rain was falling harder now, so I didn’t complain. We picketed the horses where there was grass and then threw our furs down in the hollow hard up against the rock. Sitting on them we turned one skin fur down, and held it over us. Bjorn fetched some sticks that had been tied to his spare horse and used them to prop the skin up to make a low, rough shelter, sloped so that the rain water could run off. We sat huddled side by side as the rain grew heavier and heavier, thudding onto the skin and cascading off the edge. My cloak was soaked through and my hair was dripping. I started to shiver, and Bjorn noticed at once.

‘Get that wet cloak off and wrap yourself in furs,’ he told me. I did as he said, shuddering with cold as I peeled the wet outer layer off myself.

‘No chance of getting a fire lit in this,’ I said.

‘No, not even if we’d thought to bring any wood,’ agreed Bjorn. ‘I hadn’t planned on spending another night out.’

I prayed silently to Eir and to Thor to send us better weather in the morning. I was afraid to be lost in the fog and the rain on the mountainside like this.

‘It can rain for days,’ I said anxiously. ‘What do we do then?’

‘We’ll worry about that if it happens,’ said Bjorn cheerfully. ‘Meanwhile, why don’t you pray to those gods you have so much faith in. Get them to sort the weather out.’

‘I already have,’ I said. ‘And I will again.’

‘Well then,’ said Bjorn and I suspected he was laughing at me.

I got out the last of the ptarmigan Bjorn had caught yesterday. I’d wrapped the leftovers in leaves and it made for a greasy, messy meal. It wasn’t enough either. The dogs whined hungrily as we ate and fell on the few scraps we threw them, fighting each other for a bone or a bit of fat. Bjorn and I drank from the waterskin Bera had lent us, while the dogs found themselves a puddle to lap from. There were plenty of those.

When we’d finished our meal, the rain was still falling as heavily as ever.

‘Now what?’ I asked. I was cold, damp and still hungry.

‘There’s nothing for it but to try and get some sleep,’ sighed Bjorn.

‘But it’s so cold,’ I objected.

He grinned at me. ‘It could have rained like this for the whole of our journey,’ he said. ‘Have you never camped out in the rain and the cold?’

‘Only on the ship.’

‘Precisely,’ said Bjorn. His smile and his light-hearted tone faded. ‘I kept you warm on board the ship,’ he said seriously. ‘I won’t let you freeze now.’

My heart thumped in sudden trepidation. Bjorn was unwrapping the furs from around me and himself, making a nest of them. ‘Lie down,’ he said. I lay with my back to him, slightly curled, half afraid, but anticipating the closeness with a deep and guilty pleasure. Bjorn covered me in a heap of furs and tucked them around me, and then crawled underneath with me, one arm around my waist pulling me close to his chest. I could feel his warmth immediately. His thighs were pressed into the back of my legs and his breath was warm in my hair.