‘I see,’ Margrét said. She took another sip of milk.
‘Thórbj?rg saved my life,’ Agnes added after a moment’s pause. ‘She found me on her doorstep after Natan threw me out. I would have died had she not brought me inside and let me stay there.’
Margrét nodded. ‘No one is all bad.’
‘When Thórbj?rg was young and a servant, she set fire to her mistress’s bed and killed her master’s dog with an axe. They brought it up in the trial.’
‘Good Lord.’
‘It did not help my case,’ Agnes said quickly. ‘She said we were friends. She told them Natan and I had fought, and that I had sought her advice.’
‘But you hadn’t?’
‘She never told me to burn down Illugastadir, as they claimed. I never went to Katadalur to ask for Thórbj?rg’s assistance or to conspire with Fridrik. They made it seem that I had gone to Katadalur on purpose. To plan murder.’ Agnes sipped her milk, spluttering as she swallowed. ‘I went to Katadalur because Natan would not let me stay at Illugastadir and I had nowhere else to go.’
Margrét was silent. She stared into the fire and imagined Agnes creeping about Kornsá at night, lighting a torch in the kitchen and setting the farm ablaze while they slept. Would she smell the smoke and wake?
‘It was Fridrik who burned Illugastadir down, wasn’t it, Agnes?’ Margrét tried to keep the concern from her voice.
‘At the trial I said that the fire spread from the kitchen,’ Agnes said firmly. ‘I said that Natan had set a pot of herbs to boil. It spread from there.’
Margrét said nothing for a moment. ‘I heard it was Fridrik.’
‘It wasn’t,’ Agnes said.
Margrét coughed again, and spat into the fire. The moisture bubbled upon the live embers. ‘If you are protecting your friend –’
‘Fridrik is not my friend!’ Agnes interrupted. She shook her head and set her milk on the ground. ‘He’s not my friend.’
‘I thought you two spent a deal of time together,’ Margrét explained.
Agnes frowned at her, and then returned her gaze to the hearth. ‘No. But at Illugastadir . . .’ Agnes sighed. ‘Natan was not often home. Loneliness . . .’ She struggled for words. ‘Loneliness threatened to bite you at every turn. I took what company presented itself.’
‘So Fridrik would visit Illugastadir.’
Agnes nodded. ‘It’s not far from Katadalur. Fridrik had a little romance with Sigga.’
‘I have heard of Sigga.’ Margrét got up to set some more dung on the fire.
‘People are fond of her. She’s pretty.’
‘And simple, I have heard.’
Agnes looked at Margrét carefully. ‘Yes, well, Fridrik thought otherwise. When Natan was away Fridrik would come from Katadalur on some small errand, or carrying some false message from his parents or the priest, and then he’d feign thirst or hunger. Sigga would fetch a sup of milk or a bite to eat, and they’d laugh and chatter, and by autumn it was not unusual for me to find them sitting together on Sigga’s bed, cooing over each other like birds.’
‘It’s hard to be alone in winter,’ Margrét agreed.
Agnes nodded. ‘It was worse at Illugastadir. It wasn’t like it is here, in the valley. The days crept along as weary as they come, and I had no friends or neighbours. Only Sigga, and Daníel – the manservant Natan hired from Geitaskard – and sometimes Fridrik.’
‘The dark can make a body lonely,’ Margrét said thoughtfully. ‘It’s not good for people to be kept too much to themselves.’ She offered Agnes more milk.
‘Natan never liked winter. He went his whole life without getting used to the darkness.’