‘I said that it’s my business. It has nothing to do with you or your family.’
Steina was taken aback, and paused in her step as Agnes marched on down the hill, holding the chamber pot stiffly at her side.
‘Have I put you out of temper?’ she asked.
Agnes stopped and turned to Steina. ‘How could a young woman like you put me out of temper?’
Steina bristled. ‘Because my family is holding you prisoner, and my father doesn’t want anyone to speak with you.’
‘He said that?’ Agnes asked.
‘He thinks we’re better off leaving you to your chores.’
‘He’s right.’
Steina caught up to Agnes and gently took her arm. ‘Lauga’s scared of you, you know. She’s been listening to Róslín and her lies. But I don’t believe a word that gossip says. I remember you from before. I remember how kind you were, giving us your food like that.’ Steina leaned in closer. ‘I don’t think you killed them,’ she whispered. Agnes’s body went rigid under her grip. ‘Maybe I can help you,’ Steina suggested quickly.
‘How?’ Agnes asked. ‘Would you help me escape?’
Steina let go of her arm. ‘I thought maybe a petition,’ she murmured.
‘A petition.’
Steina tried again. ‘An appeal, then. You know, like the one they’ve got up for Sigga.’
Agnes’s eyes flashed. ‘What?’
‘The appeal. Bl?ndal has got one up for the other one,’ Steina stammered.
‘The other who?’
‘Sigga . . . you know, the other Illugastadir maid. Fridrik’s sweetheart.’
Agnes’s face had grown pale. She slowly placed the chamber pot on the wet grass, then stepped towards Steina. ‘Bl?ndal has made an appeal for Sigrídur Gudmundsdóttir?’ she asked gravely.
Steina nodded, a little afraid. She glanced down to the rock that Agnes still held in her hand. ‘I heard Pabbi tell Mamma,’ she explained. ‘The District Officers were discussing it at Hvammur, with Bl?ndal. On the same day you arrived here.’
Agnes shook her head.
‘I thought you knew,’ Steina whispered.
Agnes’s eyes slipped from Steina’s and she swayed on her feet. ‘Bl?ndal?’ she muttered under her breath. Steina noticed that Agnes gripped the rock so hard her knuckles were white.
‘I’m sorry I told you.’
Agnes staggered backwards, and then continued walking unsteadily towards the river.
‘Maybe we can convince him to appeal to the King for you too!’ Steina called after her. ‘Tell them what really happened at Illugastadir!’
Agnes dropped to the ground by the riverbank, her skirts bulging around her. Steina, thinking she had fainted, ran towards her, but as she drew closer she saw that Agnes was staring blankly at the river. She was shivering. At that moment the dark clouds opened up, and the two women were engulfed in a sudden, freezing downpour.
‘Agnes!’ Steina called, wrapping her shawl more tightly about her head. ‘Get up! We have to get out of the weather.’ The sound of the rain drowned out her words.
Agnes didn’t respond. She watched the drops hit the fast-flowing river, breaking the surface so that the mountains’ reflection became wildly distorted. She still held the rock in her hand.
‘Agnes!’ Steina cried. ‘I’m sorry! I thought you knew!’ Her shawl was soaked, and she could feel her dress grow heavy with water. She hesitated by the riverbank, and then turned and began to run up the hill to the croft. The ground had become soggy, and she slipped in the mud. Halfway up the field she turned and saw that Agnes was still where she had left her. She called one more time, and then continued tripping up the muddy path to the farm.
‘Goodness, Steina! Where on God’s earth have you been?’ Margrét rushed down the corridor to scold her eldest daughter, who slammed the croft door behind her. ‘You look half drowned!’
‘It’s Agnes,’ Steina gasped, dropping her sodden shawl to the ground.