‘You’ve been skinning animals –’
Natan gripped me harder about the shoulders. ‘I see it upon the ground, in dark, sticky pools.’ He licked his lips. ‘I taste it, Agnes. I wake with the taste of blood in my mouth.’
‘You bite your tongue in your sleep –’
He gave an unfriendly smile. ‘I saw you and Daníel talking about me by the boat.’
‘Let go of me, Natan.’
He ignored me.
‘Let go of me!’ I twisted myself out of his grasp. ‘You should listen to yourself. You sound like an old woman, harping on about dreams and premonitions.’
It was cold. A great, churning cloud had moved in from the sea, snuffing all but the faintest scratchings of light from the sky. Yet even in the near darkness, I could see Natan’s eyes shine. His gaze unnerved me.
‘Agnes,’ he said. ‘I’ve been dreaming about you.’
I said nothing, suddenly longing to return to the croft and light the lamps. I was aware of the ocean, not two steps from our feet.
‘I dream that I’m in bed and I can see blood running down the walls. It drips on my head and the drops burn my skin.’
He took a step towards me.
‘I am bound to my bed, and the blood rises about me until I am covered. Then, suddenly, it’s gone. I can move, and I sit up and look about me and the room is empty.’
He pressed my hand and I felt the sharp edge of his nail dig into the flesh of my palm.
‘But then, I see you. I walk towards you. And as I draw closer I see that you’re nailed to the wall by your hair.’
As he said this, a great gust of wind blew my cap from my head, and my hair was loosed. Unbraided as it was, the long tendrils were immediately lashed about by the wind. Natan quickly reached out and grabbed a handful, using it to pull me closer.
‘Natan! You’re hurting me!’
But Natan was distracted. ‘What’s that?’ he whispered.
On the wind I could suddenly smell the heavy stench of rot, dark and putrid.
‘It’s the seaweed. Or a dead seal. Let go of my hair.’
‘Shh!’
I was sick of his temper. ‘No one is out to get you, Natan. You’re not so important as that.’
I wrenched my hair out of his grasp and turned to walk back up to the croft, but Natan grabbed me by the sleeve of my blouse, twisted me and struck me full on the face.
I gasped and immediately brought my hand to my cheek, but Natan seized my fingers and held them tightly in his own, forcing me to crouch close to him. Even against the chill of the wind I could feel the blood rush to where he had hit me.
‘Never speak to me like that again.’ Natan’s mouth pressed against my ear. His voice was low and hard. ‘I shouldn’t have asked you here.’
He held me for a moment longer, twisting my fingers until I cried out from the pain, and then he released his grip and shoved me away from him.
I stumbled along the outcrop and up the hill to the croft in the low light, tripping over my skirts, the wind aching in my ears. I was crying, yet even over the sound of the wind, and my own ragged breathing, I heard Natan shout to me from where he stood on the knoll by the sea.
‘Remember your place, Agnes!’
I waited for Natan to return to the croft that night, and kept a lamp burning in the hope that when he returned we could make up our quarrel. But the hours crept past like the guilty and midnight came and went, and still he did not come inside. Sigga and Daníel had long undressed and fallen asleep in their beds, but I remained awake and watched the flame of the lamp dance upon its wick. My head pounded. I understood that I was waiting for something bad to happen.