Burial Rites

I reached for his hand in the darkness. ‘I’m not talking about this to argue. But I want you to know that I know.’


His fingers lay in mine like a dead weight. He was thinking.

‘I knew you saw us,’ he said.

His words hit me like a blow to the stomach. My mouth opened and shut with no sound escaping. I got out of bed and brought back a lamp. I could not talk to him without seeing his face. I could not trust his words in the dark.

The lamplight flared over his bare skin. He regarded me coolly, turning away only to glance in Sigga’s direction, to see if she was awake.

‘Natan.’

My voice sounded old. I looked down and saw myself, naked, and for the first time I guessed how he saw me.

‘You’ve been playing with me.’

Natan shielded his eyes with a hand. ‘Put the lamp out, Agnes.’

I grabbed hold of the bedpost to steady myself. ‘You’re cruel.’

‘I don’t want to talk about this.’

‘You were never going to give me the housekeeping position, were you?’

‘Put the lamp out, and let’s go to sleep. Your eyes look like two piss-holes in the snow.’

‘Go to sleep?!’ I stared at him, waiting until I knew I could speak without crying. ‘How did you know I knew?’

He smiled at this. Said nothing.

‘Do you love me?’

‘You’re being ridiculous.’

‘Answer me.’

He reached for the lamp. ‘Put it out!’

‘Natan.’ I was beseeching him. The whine in my voice horrified me.

‘Would I have asked you here if I didn’t want you here?’

‘Yes, as your workmaid.’

‘You’re more than a servant, Agnes.’

‘Am I?’

‘Put the lamp out.’

‘No!’ I snatched it out of his grasp. ‘You can’t treat me like this!’

His eyes flashed. ‘You’re a nag, Agnes.’

I exploded.

‘A nag? Go to hell! I’ve always let you do what you want. Do I stop you leaving all the time? Do I stop you climbing on top of Sigga in the next bed when you think I’m asleep? She’s fifteen! You’re a fucking dog.’

He leaned back on his elbows. ‘What makes you think I wait until you’re asleep?’

The look on Natan’s face was not of derision, but of scornful amusement. An immediate weight of despair and loss pressed on me until I was suddenly, unalterably, concave with grief.

‘I hate you.’ The words seemed stupid, childish.

‘And do you think I love you?’ Natan shook his head. ‘You, Agnes?’ He narrowed his eyes and stood up, his breath hot in my face. ‘You’re a cheap sort of woman. I was wrong about you.’

‘If I am cheap it is because you have made me so!’

‘Yes, go on. You’re pure and holy, and everyone else is to blame.’

‘No, you are to blame!’

‘Forgive me, I thought you wanted this.’ He grabbed me and pulled me roughly to him. ‘I thought you wanted to get out of the valley. But you just want what you can’t have.’

‘I wanted you! I wanted to leave the valley because I wanted to be with you.’ I felt sick with anger. ‘I can’t stand it here.’

‘Then go!’ He took a step back and grabbed me by my wrist. ‘Get out! You’ve done nothing but cause trouble!’ He started to pull me out of the badstofa. I was aware of Sigga sitting up in bed, watching us. Thóranna had begun to cry.

‘Let go of me!’

‘I’m just giving you what you want. You hate me? You want to leave? Good! Here is the door.’

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