RALF LISTENED IN amazement as Peer rattled off an account of his day at the mill.
“Well, I’m blowed,” he exclaimed. “You chased off those lubbers by yourself?”
“Loki helped!” Peer dragged Ralf into the yard and showed him the cleared cobbles. “See, only a few hours’ work, and I’ve made a big difference. It’s my mill, Ralf, and I’m sure I can do it. I remember how the machinery works. What do you think? Isn’t it a good idea?”
Ralf looked at the dark buildings and hesitated. Peer’s high spirits sank. An owl hooted from the woods. The trees around the mill whispered, rubbing their branches together as though plotting something unpleasant. And something scuttled along in the shadow of the wall.
Peer realised that he was hungry and cold, and his back ached.
“Let’s talk about it at home,” Ralf suggested, leading him out of the yard. “It’s late, and I’ve had a hard day.”
“What happened?” Peer asked awkwardly. “Is there any news?”
“No,” Ralf said as they crossed the bridge. “We combed the shore, right round under the south cliffs. Not a sign of the body. And Harald Bowlegs took his boat across the fjord to search the Long Strand on the other side. He found nothing. But Bjørn keeps insisting Kersten isn’t dead. I wish he wouldn’t. All sorts of rumours are flying around.”
“Like what?”
Ralf snorted. “Dreams, omens – all kinds of rubbish. There was a white fog on the fjord first thing this morning, and what must old Thorkell say but that he’s seen a boat gliding through it – but only half a boat, if you please, with a ghostly sail like shreds of mist, all tattering and curling. ‘The draug-boat,’ he says, ‘coming for Bjørn now his luck is gone!’”
“Really?” Cold fingertips touched Peer’s spine.
“No one else saw it,” said Ralf, “and we all know Thorkell’s eyesight isn’t what it should be. And then Einar got going. He says he heard a voice crying in the dark last night, but when he looked out, there was no one there.”
“That would be me,” said Peer, shamefaced.
Ralf nodded. “But now everyone’s at it. They’ve all seen or heard something strange. Raps and noises and strange messages.”
“Don’t you believe any of it?” asked Peer.
“There was a storm last night,” said Ralf. “Of course people heard noises!”
“But, Ralf,” Peer didn’t quite know how to say it. “You know there are trolls – and lubbers – and Granny Greenteeth in the millpond down there. Why shouldn’t these other things be true, too?”
Ralf stopped. “They may be, Peer. Indeed they may. But we don’t need to rush to believe in them. Some folks enjoy looking for bad luck everywhere. A man makes his own destiny. That’s what I think.”
He gripped Peer’s shoulders, gave him a little shake, and strode on uphill. Peer walked after him, deep in thought.
A man makes his own destiny. And I will. I’m going to take Troll Mill, and make myself a future!
They were nearly home. Ahead was the farm, snuggling against the black hillside. Loki ran ahead, eager for his supper. Peer slowed down, and let Ralf go into the house without him. He felt awkward about meeting Hilde.
What should he do? Apologise again? Or pretend the quarrel had never happened? Hello, Hilde, he could say. Had a good day? I did!
“Hello, Peer!” came a crisp voice behind him. Peer leaped like a deer and swung round. Hilde stood there, carrying the milk pail. “Back at last?” She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve missed evening milking. I shouldn’t have to do all your chores.”
“I’m sorry!” he stammered, reaching for the pail. “Let me carry that in.”
“No, never mind,” she said, setting it down. “I’m glad I saw you. I want to say something. I was rude to you this morning, Peer. I shouldn’t have said what I did. And I’m sorry.”
You look like a heron! If I did think about anybody, it certainly wouldn’t be a little boy like you!
The words buzzed in the air around Peer’s head, and they stung just as much as they had that morning. He flushed and mumbled something, looking down.
“Ma said it was wrong,” continued Hilde. “She said it was unkind.”
Peer looked up, horrified. “You told your mother?”
“Oh, Peer, she overheard most of it!” said Hilde impatiently. “We weren’t exactly whispering, you know!”
“Yes, but —” He needed to impress her. He said boldly, almost boastfully, “I’ve been cleaning out the mill all day. I’m going to start working it again.”
“The mill?” Hilde stared. “You’re joking!”
“No. I’ve cleared half the yard already. And I know the machinery still works, because —” He stopped suddenly, unwilling to describe the fright he’d had when the empty mill started working by itself in the dark. “I’m sure it does – it looks all right. I’m going to be the new miller. What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong? Do you need me to tell you? What about Granny Greenteeth? The lubbers?”
“No problem,” said Peer airily. “I’ve thrown the lubbers out.”
“What do you mean?”
Peer explained. She gave a satisfying gasp as he told how the lubbers had jumped out at him. And when he got to the bit about the blankets, she laughed out loud. “Brilliant! But did it work?”
“Oh yes.” Peer couldn’t help grinning. “One of them grabbed both the blankets, and the other one chased it into the woods.”
Hilde became serious again. “But they’re bound to come slinking back. Why be a miller? What for? You don’t have to do this, Peer. You live with us.”
“For ever?” asked Peer. He watched as Hilde hesitated. “I’ve made up my mind,” he went on. “You don’t believe I can do it; but just wait and see!”
“Don’t be silly,” Hilde snapped. “I’m worried about you, that’s all.”
The last of the evening glow had faded. An owl hooted from the farmhouse gable. Hilde’s face was a pale splash. In the dark it was easier to say what he wanted.
“At the mill this morning, I remembered what it was like to live there. How scared I was of my uncles. The way I crept about. I was a coward.”
“But they were great big men, and you were only thirteen years old. It wasn’t your fault!”
Peer shook his head. “I want to take something back from them.”
“What?”
“My self respect,” he said through gritted teeth.
The owl called again, a wild, quivering note. Hilde sighed. “And you can only do that by taking over the mill? All right.” She half-flapped her arms. “All right, Peer, I can see you have to try. So I’ll help you. Count me in!”
Eirik was crying again when Peer and Hilde entered the farmhouse, and this covered the sound of their low-voiced, furious disagreement.
“If it’s safe for you, it’s safe for me.” Hilde held the door for Peer as he carried in the milk pail.
“Well, perhaps it isn’t safe!” Peer poured the milk into the shallow skimming pan so that the cream could rise. “But it’s my business, Hilde, not yours.”
Hilde looked ready to say something sharp, but before she could open her mouth, Gudrun’s voice rose above the clamour.
“You rowed to the skerries in that little boat!” She stood, joggling Eirik in her arms and looking down at Ralf, as he sat in his big wooden chair. “Ralf! You could have capsized – drowned!”
“No, no.” Ralf stretched his legs to the fire with a groan of relief. “Whew! I’m stiff. Bjørn knows every inch of that water, Gudrun. We were quite safe, but he was too tired to go alone. I haven’t rowed so far in ages. Blisters, look! But nothing else to show for it.”
Gudrun looked unconvinced. “Everyone says it’s so dangerous out there when the tide is running.”
“We were there at slack water,” Ralf reassured her. “We tossed around between the stacks, scaring the gulls, shouting like fools for Kersten. And yes, we saw some seals. They took no notice of us, as far as I could tell.
“I’ve been thinking,” he went on. “Seems to me someone should cross to Hammerhaven and find Arne. Bjørn needs his brother at a time like this.”
Arne? Peer glanced at Hilde.
“That’s a good idea,” Gudrun agreed. “Who’ll go for him? Harald Bowlegs, in his boat?” She looked Ralf with suspicion. “Not you, Ralf? We’re so busy. Surely it doesn’t have to be you?”
“No-oo.” Ralf shifted uncomfortably. “But everyone else is busy, too. Einar hasn’t sown his oatfield yet, and Thorkell’s too old.”
“So you’ve offered already!” Gudrun’s eyes snapped sparks. “I might have guessed. You should ask me first before you go promising all sorts of things. Here I am, with an extra child to care for —”
“She’s no trouble, is she?” Ralf demanded. “You’ve got plenty of help – Hilde and Peer, and even the Nis.”
“Oh, have I?” Gudrun cried. “Not today, I haven’t! The Nis has been sulking. It hasn’t so much as swept the hearth.”
“Why are you making such a fuss? I’d only be gone for a couple of days.”
Gudrun tossed her head. “And suppose Arne’s not there? Suppose he’s away? What if he’s joined another of these Viking ships? I expect you’d sail after him, and leave me for months wondering whether you were dead or alive – like last time.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous!” Ralf shouted.
Eirik struggled, screaming in sympathy. Gudrun passed him to Hilde. “Take this child and find him something to chew.” She turned on Ralf, braids flying. “I sometimes think I’m the only one with any sense round here. Worry about us for once, Ralf Eiriksson! What about the trolls, stealing our sheep?”
Ralf paused. “That’s true,” he said more calmly. “That’s true, Gudrun. I’d forgotten about that. I’ll have to move the sheep off the Stonemeadow. Very well. I’ll wait a while and see how Bjørn gets on.”