‘What did you do?’ Margrét asked.
Agnes sighed. ‘What was there to do? I trudged up the slope and poured us all a capful of brandy. Fridrik was beaming, but Sigga was anxious. After a few nips Daníel began to sing songs to the couple and I slipped outside for some fresh air and walked down to the ocean.’
The fire crackled before them. A clump of burning dung broke apart and sent a flurry of sparks towards the rafters.
Eventually Agnes spoke again. ‘Do you ever visit the sea?’
Margrét shook her head and huddled into her shawl. ‘When I was younger I spent some time working by it. Around Langidalur.’
‘The sea is different up around Vatnsnes. Sometimes the water in the fjord is like a looking glass. Something you want to run your tongue across. “As glazed as a dead man’s eye,” as Natan used to say.’ She shifted closer to the fire. ‘One time I saw two icebergs grinding against each other. The wind had blown them together. When they came closer I saw that both boulders had gathered driftwood upon their shelves, and after some time I heard a terrible cracking and saw the driftwood erupt into flames.’
‘It sounds like something out of the sagas,’ Margrét remarked.
‘It was eerie,’ Agnes agreed. ‘I couldn’t help but watch. Even when night fell I could still see small flames burning out to sea.’
For a few moments the two women gazed at the fire. The flames were now dying in a red glow that spread over the women’s faces. Outside a low moan signalled the onset of more winter winds.
AFTER FRIDRIK PROPOSED TO SIGGA it snowed hard enough to bury a highwayman. There was no riding home for Fridrik, and I made him bunk with Daníel. The brandy slipped them into sleep like a shoehorn.
I remained wakeful. Thoughts of Natan and Sigga wormed through my brain, interrupting my dreams. I knew why Natan hated Fridrik. It wasn’t because the boy had taken a shine to his wealth and valuables, although that was part of it. No, it was because of Sigga. I decided that he wanted Sigga as much as he didn’t want me.
I must have eventually fallen into an uneasy sleep. The badstofa was empty when I woke, and the snow had finally stopped falling. The world outside was white, except for the oily grey of the ocean. There was a noise out by the home field, and when I went out to see what it was, I saw Fridrik kicking a dead sheep. His aggression made my stomach turn.
‘What are you doing?’ My voice rang out clear and strong in the still air. Fridrik didn’t hear me. He kept kicking, grunting. His boots sent up a spray of bloody snow.
‘Fridrik!’ I called again. ‘What are you doing?’
He stopped and turned around. I saw him rub his face on his sleeve and he began to haul his boots through the heavy drifts towards me. As he came closer I saw that he was in a mood.
‘Hello, Agnes,’ he said, breathing heavily.
‘Why are you kicking that animal?’
Fridrik was panting. His breath issued from his mouth in a puff of fog. ‘It was already dead.’
‘But why were you kicking it?’
‘What does it matter?’ Fridrik squinted up at the heavy sky. ‘More snow’s coming, I’m thinking. Best not get caught in it.’ He sniffed and wiped his nose on his glove, leaving a shiny smear upon the wool.
‘Natan will kill you.’ I gestured towards the stain of blood and dirt surrounding the sheep. ‘You’ve ruined the meat. And the skin.’
Fridrik laughed. I wanted to slap him for kicking the sheep, but I had no power over him, and he knew it.
‘It was already dead, Agnes. It died this morning.’ He wiped a melting fleck of bloody snow from his cheek, and heaved his boot out of the drift to walk past me. ‘Don’t worry, it will still be good to eat.’
‘You’ve trampled it.’
He rolled his eyes.
‘You’ll catch your death,’ he called out, his back to me. I watched the snow clouds descend upon the mountain and let the chill air prickle at my ribs until I shuddered with the cold.
Seeing Fridrik hack at the sheep with his boots unsettled something within me. It was portentous: the rapid limbs, dark against the snow, colliding with the soft corpse until a fine mist of blood floated above.
Snow began to fall. I turned around to follow Fridrik back to the farm, and saw a raven descend upon the sheep. It gave a mournful caw and then plunged its beak into the innards. Snowflakes landed on its black feathers.
I interrupted Fridrik and Sigga sitting together on her bed, whispering in low voices. Sigga looked as though she had been crying.
‘There are two sheep missing,’ I said.
‘Well, one of them is dead. You saw it yourself.’ Fridrik yawned.
‘Not the one you were kicking. There are another two besides.’
Fridrik gave a nasty smile and I knew at once what had happened.
‘You killed them.’ Sigga let out a sob, and Fridrik stood up. He walked over to me and bent close. I could smell his sweat.
‘Agnes. You might like to know that Sigga and I have been talking this morning.’ His voice cracked with anger. ‘Natan has been taking advantage of her.’
I waited until I could speak calmly.
‘I already knew.’
Sigga burst into tears. ‘I’m sorry, Agnes! I wanted to tell you so bad!’
Fridrik paused. ‘You knew?’
‘I thought she’d agreed to it.’ My voice was brittle.
‘He’s been raping her!’ He began pacing the floor. I noticed that he held Sigga’s green silk nightdress in his hand, a present from Natan. ‘I’m going to kill him.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Go ahead. A lot of difference that will make now.’ I turned to Sigga. ‘Did he force you?’
‘Of course he forced her!’ Fridrik sat down again next to Sigga and punched the mattress. Sigga gave a start.
‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.
I thought back to the night I heard him moving inside her. The night after the death waves. The hurried breathing. A quick, light moan. There had not been a struggle.
‘It’s against God,’ Fridrik said.
I couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I don’t think any of this has much to do with God.’
Sigga looked panicked. ‘Agnes? Are you very disappointed in me?’
‘Why would I be disappointed?’ My voice was as smooth as the ocean.
Fridrik glared, looking down at the nightdress. ‘He’s a bastard. I’ll kill him.’
‘I don’t want Natan to die.’ The simper in Sigga’s voice made me want to slap her.
I laughed. ‘Fridrik’s not going to kill anyone.’
‘Yes I am.’ He stood up again, his hands in meaty fists.
‘No, you’re not,’ I said. ‘Anyway, what does it matter? You’re still going to marry her.’
Fridrik sneered. ‘I wouldn’t expect a woman like you to understand.’
I felt my mouth grow dry.
‘Sigga said Natan’s been having his way with you as well. Only we seem to think that you enjoy it a sight more than Sigga!’
I stepped towards Sigga and saw her flinch. ‘I’m not going to hit you,’ I said. But I could have. I wanted to.
Daníel came in and Fridrik fell quiet. I was shaking with anger. I hated Fridrik. I hated his pimpled skin, flushed red by the cold. Hated his blue eyes and their sticky rim of blond lashes. I hated his high voice, his smell of horseshit, his constant visits.