Pétur gave a thin smile.
‘Fine.’ Natan started to lead his horse towards the field. ‘Agnes can stay, but not in the badstofa. Pétur and I are going to sleep here tonight, and then we’re going to Geitaskard again in the morning. If you’re still here when we return, I’m handing you over to the District Commissioner as a trespasser. Fridrik, leave before I get Pétur to slit your throat.’ He laughed, but Pétur looked at the ground.
I slept in the cowshed again that night. It wasn’t so cold as when Natan first threw me out, and Sigga helped me make up a little bed before returning inside. It stank of shit, and the floor was alive with lice, but eventually I fell asleep.
When I woke, it was dark. I stood up and went to the doorway, and saw light still issuing from the window in the croft. I felt clearheaded after my rest, and was about to walk back to the farm to see if I couldn’t make it up with Natan when I heard footsteps in the snow behind the cowshed.
‘Sigga?’
The footsteps stopped, then I heard their soft crunch again. They were coming towards me. I retreated into the darkness of the shed and pressed my back against the wall.
I heard a low whisper. ‘Agnes?’
It was Fridrik.
He slipped inside the entrance.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
He was breathing hard. I couldn’t see him in the shadows, but I could smell his sweat. Something clinked.
‘Did you walk here from Katadalur?’
He coughed and spat. ‘Yes.’
‘Natan’s going to kill you if he sees you.’
‘I’ll wait until he’s asleep.’
‘To do what? If he wakes up and catches you and Sigga whispering sweet nothings in the bed next to his he’ll have you hung and quartered before day breaks.’
I heard Fridrik sniff.
‘I’ve not come for that.’
There was something in his tone that gave me pause.
‘Fridrik. What have you come for?’
‘I’m going to sort this out once and for all. I’ve come for what’s mine.’
Behind us the cow gave a low groan. I heard the scrape of hooves on the earthen floor.
‘Fridrik?’
‘Admit it. You want this too, Agnes.’
At that point the moon slipped out from its shield of clouds, and I saw what Fridrik held in his hands. It was a hammer and a knife.
WHAT DO I REMEMBER? I didn’t believe him. I went back to my bed on the floor of the cowshed, suddenly weary. I wanted nothing to do with him.
What happened?
I woke up from a fitful sleep and went outside. The light from the croft window had gone out. Fridrik was nowhere to be seen.
I went to go find him. I was suddenly scared. The night sky was clear and the farm was lit with moonlight. The sting of stars. Snow squeaked under my shoes. I fumbled at the latch but the door creaked open anyway.
Sigga was crouched against the wall of the corridor, clutching Rósa’s little girl. They were whimpering.
‘Sigga?’
It took her a moment before she could respond. ‘The badstofa,’ she whispered. I could hardly hear her.
I walked down that long passageway. Somehow I knew to take a light from the kitchen. My heart was in my throat.
What happened?
I was shaking, my hands fumbled, and I dropped the lamp in the dark. There was the sudden smell of a snuffed wick, and a sound in the corner. A creaking board and someone panting, hard and fast, and more sounds, dull, like a child punching a pillow. A groan, the sound of something wet, and then a voice whispering: ‘Agnes?’
My heart skipped a beat. I thought Natan was there.
But it was Fridrik.
‘Agnes,’ he was saying, ‘Agnes, where are you?’ His voice was thin.
‘I’m here,’ I said. I bent down and felt in the murk for the lamp. ‘I dropped the light.’