‘Oh, she doesn’t mind.’
‘She does. She doesn’t like you being alone with me,’ Agnes said carefully.
‘You’ve been here for weeks and weeks now.’
‘Even so.’ Agnes began to walk slowly down to the river and Steina turned to keep pace with her.
‘Do you think the Reverend will come today?’
Agnes didn’t respond.
‘What does he talk to you about?’
‘That’s my business,’ she snapped.
‘What?’
‘I said that it’s my business. It has nothing to do with you or your family.’
Steina was taken aback, and paused in her step as Agnes marched on down the hill, holding the chamber pot stiffly at her side.
‘Have I put you out of temper?’ she asked.
Agnes stopped and turned to Steina. ‘How could a young woman like you put me out of temper?’
Steina bristled. ‘Because my family is holding you prisoner, and my father doesn’t want anyone to speak with you.’
‘He said that?’ Agnes asked.
‘He thinks we’re better off leaving you to your chores.’
‘He’s right.’
Steina caught up to Agnes and gently took her arm. ‘Lauga’s scared of you, you know. She’s been listening to Róslín and her lies. But I don’t believe a word that gossip says. I remember you from before. I remember how kind you were, giving us your food like that.’ Steina leaned in closer. ‘I don’t think you killed them,’ she whispered. Agnes’s body went rigid under her grip. ‘Maybe I can help you,’ Steina suggested quickly.
‘How?’ Agnes asked. ‘Would you help me escape?’
Steina let go of her arm. ‘I thought maybe a petition,’ she murmured.
‘A petition.’
Steina tried again. ‘An appeal, then. You know, like the one they’ve got up for Sigga.’
Agnes’s eyes flashed. ‘What?’
‘The appeal. Blöndal has got one up for the other one,’ Steina stammered.
‘The other who?’
‘Sigga… you know, the other Illugastadir maid. Fridrik’s sweetheart.’
Agnes’s face had grown pale. She slowly placed the chamber pot on the wet grass, then stepped towards Steina. ‘Blöndal has made an appeal for Sigrídur Gudmundsdóttir?’ she asked gravely.
Steina nodded, a little afraid. She glanced down to the rock that Agnes still held in her hand. ‘I heard Pabbi tell Mamma,’ she explained. ‘The District Officers were discussing it at Hvammur, with Blöndal. On the same day you arrived here.’
Agnes shook her head.
‘I thought you knew,’ Steina whispered.
Agnes’s eyes slipped from Steina’s and she swayed on her feet. ‘Blöndal?’ she muttered under her breath. Steina noticed that Agnes gripped the rock so hard her knuckles were white.
‘I’m sorry I told you.’
Agnes staggered backwards, and then continued walking unsteadily towards the river.
‘Maybe we can convince him to appeal to the King for you too!’ Steina called after her. ‘Tell them what really happened at Illugastadir!’
Agnes dropped to the ground by the riverbank, her skirts bulging around her. Steina, thinking she had fainted, ran towards her, but as she drew closer she saw that Agnes was staring blankly at the river. She was shivering. At that moment the dark clouds opened up, and the two women were engulfed in a sudden, freezing downpour.
‘Agnes!’ Steina called, wrapping her shawl more tightly about her head. ‘Get up! We have to get out of the weather.’ The sound of the rain drowned out her words.
Agnes didn’t respond. She watched the drops hit the fast-flowing river, breaking the surface so that the mountains’ reflection became wildly distorted. She still held the rock in her hand.
‘Agnes!’ Steina cried. ‘I’m sorry! I thought you knew!’ Her shawl was soaked, and she could feel her dress grow heavy with water. She hesitated by the riverbank, and then turned and began to run up the hill to the croft. The ground had become soggy, and she slipped in the mud. Halfway up the field she turned and saw that Agnes was still where she had left her. She called one more time, and then continued tripping up the muddy path to the farm.
‘Goodness, Steina! Where on God’s earth have you been?’ Margrét rushed down the corridor to scold her eldest daughter, who slammed the croft door behind her. ‘You look half drowned!’
‘It’s Agnes,’ Steina gasped, dropping her sodden shawl to the ground.
‘Did she hurt you? Oh my sweet Lord, protect us! I knew it.’ Margrét wrapped her arms around her daughter, who was shaking with cold, and drew her towards her.
‘No, Mamma!’ Steina yelled, pushing her mother away. ‘She needs help, she’s by the river!’
‘What happened?’ Lauga had stepped out of the kitchen. ‘Oh, Steina! You’ve muddied my shawl.’
‘I don’t care!’ Steina shouted. She turned back to her mother. ‘I told her about the appeal for Sigrídur Gudmundsdóttir and she went all strange and white and now she won’t get up!’
Margrét turned to Lauga. ‘What is she talking about?’
‘Agnes!’ Steina screeched. She wiped the rain off her face with her sleeve and began to run down the corridor. ‘I need to tell Pabbi.’
Jón was in the badstofa, mending his shoes. ‘Steina?’ he asked, looking up from his work.
‘Pabbi! Please, you have to go down to Agnes. I told her about the appeal Blöndal has for the other Illugastadir maid and she’s gone mad.’
Jón immediately pushed the shoes from his lap and stood up. ‘Where?’ he asked in a low voice.
‘By the river,’ Steina said, fighting back tears. Jón pulled his boots out from under his bed and tied them on roughly.
‘I’m sorry, Pabbi, I thought she knew! I wanted to help her.’
Jón stood up and gripped his daughter by the shoulders. His cheeks were pink with anger. ‘I told you to stay away from her.’ He glared at his daughter, then shoved her out of the way and left the room, calling for Gudmundur, who had been lying on his bed. The farmhand got up reluctantly. Steina sat down and began to cry.
A few moments later Lauga stepped into the badstofa with Kristín at her side.
‘What did Pabbi say?’ she asked quietly, then, seeing where Steina had sat, ‘Oh! Get up, you’re making my bed wet.’
‘Leave me!’ Steina screamed, causing Kristín to yelp and flee the room. ‘Leave me alone!’
Lauga smirked and shook her head. ‘You’re in a temper, Steina. What were you trying to do out there? Make friends?’
‘Go to hell, Lauga!’
Lauga’s mouth dropped open. She glowered at her sister, as though about to cry, and then narrowed her eyes. ‘You’d better watch yourself,’ she hissed. ‘If you continue this way you’ll be as wicked as her.’ She turned to walk away, but stopped. ‘I’ll pray for you,’ she sniffed, and then left the room. Steina put her head in her hands and cried.
I SIT AND WAIT UPON my bed as Margrét, Jón and their daughters talk about me behind the grey curtain in the parlour. Although Margrét speaks in hissed whispers I catch the words as they slither through the gap between this room and the next. My hands shake and I can feel my heart throbbing. It’s as though I have just run for my life. It’s the same feeling as in court, when I felt outside of everything.
I could have been a pauper; I could have been their servant, until those words! Sigga! Illugastadir! They anchor me to a memory that snatches the breath out of me. They are the magic words, the curse that turns me into a monster, and now I am Agnes of Illugastadir, Agnes of the fire, Agnes of the dead bodies with the blood, not burnt, still clinging to the clothes I made for him. They will free Sigga but they will not free me because I am Agnes — bloody, knowing Agnes. And I am so scared, I thought it could work, I thought I could pretend, but I see it will not, I will never, I cannot escape this, I cannot escape.