“RUN!” HILDE SCREAMED, as Peer swung the dragonhead at Harald. She screamed again as he paused to call Loki. Then he vanished, and Harald rushed after him, and all the men followed. Only Gunnar was left behind, like some crippled old spider that couldn’t crawl out of its web.
Hilde ran out too. Wildly she looked to the woods, hearing the men yell as they fought their way up into the forest.
Oh, Peer – get away. Run, hide!
But where? There was nowhere for him to go. Vinland was a wilderness, a place without places. Hilde gasped as the enormity of the disaster broke over her. Peer couldn’t come back.
Harald and Gunnar, outlawed for five years for the murder of Erlend, would never let Peer live to tell of an even worse crime here in Vinland – the slaughter of Thorolf and all his men. Peer had defied them, accused them outright. So he would die: either slowly in the forest, or quickly under Harald’s sword.
I know as much as Peer does. I could tell everything. But a woman couldn’t be a witness. Harald wouldn’t care about a girl’s threats. Magnus, Floki and the others were mixed up in it themselves and would say nothing. Arne or Tjørvi might speak. But Harald had been clever. He’d challenged Peer, asked him to prove his claim through combat. By breaking off the fight, Peer had lost his case.
Hilde ground her teeth. Men! What stupid rules they set up – as though fighting about something could alter the truth!
It was dreadful to be so helpless.
The dragonhead! Gunnar had ordered it to be thrown on the fire. But Peer was right. It was a different sort of proof: it showed beyond doubt that death had come to the Long Serpent and her crew. Perhaps, one day, it could be used against Gunnar and Harald. She had to save it.
Quickly. It may already be burning. Silent as a thief, she slid back inside. Gunnar sat at the far end of the fire hall, moodily swigging from his drinking horn. Astrid paced up and down near the door. She jumped as Hilde came in. “Where’s Peer? Did they catch him?”
Hilde didn’t reply. The dragonhead lay in the hearth, where Harald had thrown it after wrenching his sword free. Luckily it had fallen in the ashes. She dragged it out, giving Astrid a searing glare that dared her to say anything, and backed through the door without a word.
The dragonhead was top-heavy and awkward. The ash had stuck to its sea-slimed surface. She hugged it to her chest and thought of Peer digging in the tidepool, heaving the dragonhead out of the sand and crying for Thorolf – for his father – for the waste of it all. Tears filled her own eyes, but there was no time for that. She looked about. Where to hide it? Not near the house – someone would be sure to find it. No time to run to the shore or the woods. Quickly, before Harald gets back…
Then she knew. Thorolf ’s empty house. Nobody ever goes there.
She stole up the dim path. The door swung open at a touch, and a chill, damp smell came out. Squatting, she slid the dragonhead in along the floor. As she let go, it vanished into the waiting blackness so completely that she could almost believe it had wriggled away like a snake. She felt for it, patting the earth floor. If someone did look in, she didn’t want them to see the dragonhead lying just inside. But she must have pushed it further than she had thought, for her groping fingers couldn’t find it again.
The silence in the house was tense and emphatic… the silence of a roomful of people all holding their breath. And a tick, tick, tick of dripping water. Hilde’s skin roughened up in goosebumps. She dragged the door shut. But the dragonhead was hidden, and she couldn’t shake off a ridiculous, clinging hope that somehow, if the dragonhead was safe, Peer might be too.
The Nis scampered past her ankles with a swish of air and a heavy patter of feet. It’s still playing. It doesn’t know what happened. She called for it. “Nis? Nis, I need you.” It was probably hiding in the dark porch, hoping to jump out and make her scream. “Nis, there’s no time for games. Peer’s hurt. He’s run off into the woods. We have to find him.” She swallowed a sob. “Nis, that dragonhead you found. It means that Thorolf ’s dead, Thorolf and all his men. Harald and Gunnar killed them, and burned their ship. Peer said so, and Harald made him fight with swords. And Harald hurt him, and Peer’s run away.”
The Nis appeared suddenly on the top of the porch. Its eyes glinted like angry garnets. “Thorolf the Seafarer – dead?” it exclaimed. “Dead – my namesake – and Peer Ulfsson lost? And Harald Silkenhair did it? Ooh!” It raised scrawny arms and shook its fists above its head. “I will make him pay! I will avenge Peer Ulfsson, my good friend. Avenge!” it repeated grandly.
“But…”
“You thinks I can’t, but I can,” the Nis bristled. “I can sneak up when Harald’s asleep and tie knots in his hair, his beautiful hair he’s so proud of. Ha! I can hide his clothes – put stones in his boots. I can —”
“Do all that if you like, but the most important thing is to find Peer! Before he dies in the woods, or gets lost and starves. Please, please, go and look for him.”
The Nis’s eyes widened. “The woods is big, mistress,” it quavered. “I am a house Nis, and a ship Nis, but I isn’t a woods Nis. I would get lost too. I would starve as well, no one to make me nice groute, only mushrooms to eat, and leaves, ugh! No butter any more, never again…” Its voice nearly broke at the affecting thought.
“Never mind, then,” said Hilde sadly. “Just do what you can.”
The men straggled back empty-handed, excited and ashamed as a pack of dogs caught doing something disgraceful but fun, like chasing sheep. Even Arne and Tjørvi avoided her eyes. Perhaps they’d gone with good intentions, to do what they could. For the moment Hilde loathed them as much as the others, for being part of the dog pack that had hunted Peer.
“Where is he?” she rapped, before even Gunnar could ask.
“Skulking,” Harald grinned. “Skulking in the woods. And he can stay there.”
Hilde caught her breath. “What will he do? How can he survive?”
Harald tilted his head to one side and paused. “By milking bears?” he suggested, and burst out laughing. Floki giggled, but he glanced at Magnus for approval and soon stopped. The others looked uneasily at their feet.
Hilde walked out. She sat on the log seat by the porch and folded her arms. Arne followed. “Hilde, please come in.” He knelt before her, trying to take her hands. “I’ll go looking for Peer tomorrow, I swear I will, but it’s too dark now, I wouldn’t find him. Please.”
“Leave me alone.”
Astrid stuck her head out. “Hilde, come in. Sitting out here won’t help.” Hilde stared straight ahead. There was no way she was going to shut herself up in the cold little cupboard that was her bed. She heard Astrid murmur to Arne, “Better leave her be.” The door shut.
I’ll stay here till he comes, Hilde thought. He’ll wait till everything’s quiet, then he’ll creep out of the woods. He’ll see me, and we’ll make a plan. We’ll think of something. Peer always has an idea up his sleeve…
The sea hushed and shivered on the beach below the houses. There was a breeze, thin and chill. Something yapped sharply in the forest, and a thrill of hope brought her to her feet. Is that Loki? Please, oh please let it be Loki and Peer.
Nothing happened. No tall figure of a boy with his dog came limping out of the trees.
A terrible conviction settled slowly on Hilde that the worst had happened. She would never see Peer again. She covered her face with her hands. And we parted so badly. He tried to tell me he loved me, and I – was – so – stupid…
She saw her behaviour as Peer must have seen it. He must have thought I didn’t care about him at all. But I did. I do. I’d just – got used to him. I suppose I took him for granted.
The moon was setting and the sky glittered with constellations. The Wagon, she thought, remembering how Peer had pointed them out. The Nail. Oh Peer. Can you see them? Where are you now?
The stars blurred and trembled, and ran together in a luminous smear.