‘Hello, young lady.’ The man looked down at Steina and her filthy skirts with an air of bemusement. ‘I see I have interrupted you at your chores.’ Steina stared as he dismounted, gracefully swinging his leg over his horse. For a large man he landed lightly on his feet. ‘Do you know who I am?’ He looked at her for a glimmer of recognition.
Steina shook her head.
‘I am the District Commissioner, Björn Audunsson Blöndal.’ He gave her a little nod of his head and adjusted his coat, which, Steina noticed, was trimmed with silver buttons.
‘You’re from Hvammur,’ she murmured.
Blöndal smiled patiently. ‘Yes. I am your father’s overseer. I have come to speak with him.’
‘He’s not home.’
Blöndal frowned. ‘And your mother?’
‘They’re visiting folks down south in the valley.’
‘I see.’ He looked fixedly at the young woman, who squirmed and cast her eyes nervously to the fields. A smattering of freckles across her nose and forehead interrupted what was otherwise pale skin. Her eyes were brown and widely set, and there was a large gap between her front teeth. There was something rather ungainly about her, Blöndal decided. He noted the thick crescents of dirt under her fingernails.
‘You’ll have to come back later,’ Steina finally suggested.
Blöndal tensed. ‘May I at least come inside?’
‘Oh. If you want. You can tie your horse there.’ Steina bit her lip while Blöndal wound his reins through a post in the yard, and then she turned and almost ran inside.
Blöndal followed her, stooping under the low entrance to the croft. ‘Will your father return this day?’
‘No,’ was the curt reply.
‘How unfavourable,’ Blöndal complained, stumbling in the dark passageway as Steina led him through to the badstofa. He had grown corpulent since his posting as District Commissioner and was accustomed to the more spacious dwelling provided for him and his family at Hvammur, built from imported wood. The hovels of the peasants and farmers had begun to repel him, with their cramped rooms constructed of turf that issued clouds of dust in the summer, irritating his lungs.
‘Commissioner —’
‘District Commissioner.’
‘I’m sorry, District Commissioner. Mamma and Pabbi, I mean, Margrét and Jón, will return tomorrow. Or the next day. Depending on the weather.’ Steina gestured towards the nearest end of the narrow room, where a grey woollen curtain served as a partition between the badstofa and a tiny parlour. ‘Sit in there,’ she said. ‘I’ll go find my sister.’
Lauga Jónsdóttir, Steina’s younger sister, was weeding the meagre vegetable plot at a little distance from the croft. Bent over her task, she hadn’t seen the District Commissioner arrive, but she heard her sister calling long before she came into sight.
‘Lauga! Where are you? Lauga!’
Lauga rose to her feet and wiped her soiled hands on her apron. She didn’t shout back to her sister, but waited patiently until Steina, running and tripping over her long skirts, spotted her.
‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you!’ Steina cried, out of breath.
‘What on God’s earth is wrong with you?’
‘The Commissioner is here!’
‘Who?’
‘Blöndal!’
Lauga stared at her sister. ‘District Commissioner Björn Blöndal? Wipe your nose, Steina, you’re snotting.’
‘He’s sitting in the parlour.’
‘Where?’
‘You know, behind the curtain.’
‘You left him there by himself?’ Lauga’s eyes grew wide.
Steina grimaced. ‘Please come and talk to him.’
Lauga glared at her sister, then quickly untied her dirty apron and dropped it beside the lovage. ‘I can’t think of what goes through your head sometimes, Steina,’ she muttered, as they walked quickly towards the croft. ‘Leaving a man like Blöndal twiddling his thumbs in our badstofa.’
‘In the parlour.’
‘What difference does it make? I suppose you gave him the servants’ whey to drink, too.’
Steina turned to her sister with a panicked expression. ‘I didn’t give him anything.’
‘Steina!’ Lauga broke into a little trot. ‘He’ll think us peasants!’
Steina watched her sister pick her way through the tussocks of grass. ‘We are peasants,’ she mumbled.
Lauga quickly washed her face and hands, and snatched a new apron from Kristín, the family’s workmaid, who had hidden herself in the kitchen at the sound of a stranger’s voice. Lauga found the District Commissioner seated at the little wooden table in the parlour, reading over a slip of paper. Expressing apologies for her sister’s discourteous reception, she offered him a plate of cold, hashed mutton, which he took gladly, albeit with a slightly injured air. She quietly stood aside as he ate, watching his fleshy lips wrap about the meat. Perhaps her Pabbi was to be promoted from District Officer to an even greater title. Perhaps he would receive a uniform, or a stipend from the Danish Crown. There might be new dresses. A new home. More servants.
Blöndal scraped his knife across the plate.
‘Would you like some skyr and cream, District Commissioner?’ she asked, taking the empty dish.
Blöndal waved his hands in front of his chest as if to decline, then paused. ‘Well, all right then. Thank you.’
Lauga blushed and turned to fetch the soft cheese.
‘And I would not object to coffee,’ he called after her as she ducked her head around the curtain.
‘What does he want?’ Steina asked, huddling by the fire in the kitchen. ‘I can’t hear anything except you, clomping up and down the corridor.’
Lauga shoved the dirty plate at her. ‘He hasn’t said anything yet. He wants skyr and coffee.’
Steina exchanged looks with Kristín, who rolled her eyes. ‘We have no coffee,’ Steina said quietly.
‘Yes we do. I saw some in the pantry last week.’
Steina hesitated. ‘I… I drank it.’
‘Steina! The coffee isn’t for us! We save it for occasions!’
‘Occasions? The Commissioner never visits.’
‘The District Commissioner, Steina!’
‘The servants are coming back from Reykjavík soon. We might have more then.’
‘That’s then. What are we going to do now?’ Exasperated, Lauga pushed Kristín in the direction of the pantry. ‘Skyr and cream! Hurry.’
‘I wanted to know what it tasted like,’ Steina offered.
‘It’s too late. Bring him some fresh milk instead. Bring everything in when it’s ready. Actually no, let Kristín. You look like you’ve been rolling in the dirt with the horses.’ Lauga shot a scathing look at the dung on Steina’s clothes and walked back down the corridor.
Blöndal was waiting for her. ‘Young lady. I suppose you are wondering at my occasioning your family with a visit.’
‘My name is Sigurlaug. Or Lauga, if you like.’
‘Quite. Sigurlaug.’
‘Is it some business of my father’s? He is —’
‘Southbound, yes, I know. Your sister told me, and… Oh look, here she is.’
Lauga turned and saw Steina emerging round the side of the partition, carrying the soft cheese, cream and berries in one grimy hand, and the milk in the other. Lauga gave her sister a vexed look as Steina accidentally dragged the edge of the curtain through the skyr. Fortunately the District Commissioner seemed oblivious.