I accepted the coffee she gave us. ‘Where is Natan?’ I asked.
‘A messenger from Geitaskard arrived. Worm’s not well. Natan left early this morning.’
‘How has he been?’
Sigga gave me a look. ‘He’s been in a bad temper.’
‘Has he forced you again?’ Fridrik was examining Natan’s shelf by his bed. Sigga watched anxiously as he picked up a few boxes and rattled them.
‘What are you looking for?’
‘Compensation,’ Fridrik muttered. He peered out the window at the snow outside. ‘I bet I was right. I bet he’s buried it all in the yard.’
I looked at Sigga. ‘Has he said anything about me?’
Sigga shook her head.
I attempted a grim smile. ‘Nothing you’d like to repeat to my face.’
Fridrik dusted the snow off his shoulders and sat down next to Sigga, drawing her onto his lap. ‘My little bird,’ he said. ‘My wife.’
Sigga resisted his caresses and sat back down on the bed. ‘Don’t call me that,’ she said.
Fridrik flushed red. ‘Why not? You’re mine.’
‘Natan told me he’s changed his mind. He won’t allow it.’ Her voice broke into a sob. ‘Not ever.’
‘Goddamn Natan!’
Despite the sombre mood of our gathering, it was hard not to smile at Fridrik’s dramatic cry. ‘I’m sure Natan will get over it,’ I said.
Sigga wiped her eyes and shook her head. ‘He says he will be the one to marry me if anyone does.’
My stomach dropped, and I noticed Fridrik turn pale. ‘What?’
‘That’s what he said,’ Sigga sniffed.
‘What did you say?’ My voice sounded thin and shaky.
Sigga burst into a fresh bout of sobbing.
‘You didn’t say yes, did you?’ Fridrik placed an arm around her, and Sigga pushed her face into his neck. She howled.
We three spent the next two days together at Illugastadir, making plans to leave. Sigga thought that she might be able to return to Stóra-Borg, and I offered to take her with me back to the valley as soon as the weather allowed. Fridrik suggested that I go to ásbjarnarstadir to ask for work until winter’s end. He said the farmer there did not like Natan; he might take me on out of sympathy.
We were talking in this way one afternoon when we saw travellers coming down the mountain pass. We’d been so wrapped up in our plans to escape that we hadn’t seen them appear. We were outside in the yard, taking some air in the finer weather, and it was too late for us to hide. They would have seen us.
‘Agnes!’ Sigga hissed. ‘It’s Natan. He’ll tan me when he sees you.’
My heart was beating like a battle drum, but I dared not show it. ‘He’s not alone, Sigga. He won’t do anything with company about.’
We three stood waiting for the pair of riders. When they came close enough, I was surprised to see Sheepkiller-Pétur riding with Natan.
‘Look, Pétur,’ Natan said. ‘Three little foxes sneaking about the place.’ He smiled, but his eyes were cold. I thought he might attack Fridrik, but instead he dismounted and walked up to me.
‘What is she doing here?’ His smile vanished. I flushed red, and stole a glance at Pétur. He seemed taken aback.
‘Please let her come back, just until winter is over,’ Sigga protested.
‘I’ve had enough of you, Agnes.’
‘What have I even done?’ I was pretending to be calm.
‘You said you wanted to go, so go!’ He took another step towards me. ‘Leave!’
Sigga looked anxious. ‘She’s got no place to stay, Natan. It’s going to snow.’
Natan laughed. ‘You never mean what you say, Agnes. You say one thing, and a different meaning lurks beneath it. You want to leave? Leave!’
I wanted to tell Natan that I wanted him; that I wanted him to love me back. But I said nothing. There was nothing I could have said.
It was Fridrik who broke the silence.
‘You’re not going to marry her,’ he announced through gritted teeth.
Natan laughed. ‘Not this again.’ He turned to Pétur. ‘See what happens when you live with children? They draw you into their little games.’