Troll Mill

“Take him, Hilde.” Gudrun handed him over with relief. “I’ve fed him. He just wants to get down and create mischief. Keep him out of the fire, do! I’ll have to feed the other one now.”

Hilde seized Eirik under his plump arms and swung him on to her hip. “Come to Hilde,” she crooned. “You bad boy. What a bad boy you are!” Eirik stopped screaming and tried to grab her nose. She pushed his hand away and joggled him up and down. His face crumpled and went scarlet, but as he filled his lungs to yell again, he caught sight of Gudrun lifting the other baby from the cradle.

Eirik’s angry face smoothed into blank astonishment. His eyes widened into amazed circles. He stretched out his arm, leaning out from Hilde’s side, trying to touch the baby girl.

Hilde and Gudrun laughed at him. “Oh, what a surprise,” Hilde teased. “Twins, look at him! Peer, just look at that expression!”

“Ha ha!” said Sigurd. He danced around Hilde, hooking his fingers into the corners of his mouth and pulling a horrible face–something that usually made Eirik gurgle with laughter. “You’re not the littlest one any more!”

This time, it failed. Eirik craned past him, yearning towards the little baby.

“He was half asleep when I got him up,” explained Gudrun, sitting down to feed the new baby. “It’s the first time he’s noticed her.”

Frustrated, Eirik began to writhe and kick, determined to find out for himself what this new creature was. Hilde carried him away.

“Fetch me some groute and honey,” she called to her brother. “Cool it with milk. I’ll see if he’ll have some more.” She plonked the wriggling Eirik on her knee and when Sigurd brought the bowl and a horn spoon, she tried to ladle some into his mouth. Eirik spat it down his chin in angry dribbles. She tried again. Purple with fury, Eirik smacked the spoon out of her hand.

“Ouch!” Hilde wiped the glutinous barleymeal from her eye. “Right, you little horror! Don’t think I’m taking you anywhere near that baby. You’d probably tear her limb from limb!”

“Just let him see her,” said Gudrun wearily. “He’s curious, that’s all.”

“Curious? You mean furious,” said Hilde, bringing him across. His eyes were screwed shut, and fat tears poured down his face. “All right, Eirik, you’ve got your own way. Look, here she is. Stop screaming!”

“There. She’s had enough,” said Gudrun, as Eirik’s screams subsided to choking sobs and at last to fascinated silence. “I’ll sit her up.”

She righted the baby and sat her upright on her knee, holding her tenderly. The baby hiccupped. Her eyes focused. She gazed solemnly around. Peer looked at her closely. What had the Nis been complaining about? She seemed like any other baby to him.

“Gudrun, there’s nothing wrong with the baby, is there?” he asked.

“She’s fine,” said Gudrun. “She hasn’t even caught a cold. You looked after her very well, Peer, and there’s nothing wrong at all. Don’t worry.”

“I didn’t mean that. I talked to the Nis last night.”

“The Nis?” Gudrun looked up. “Go on, what did it say?”

“It was cross,” Peer said with a short laugh. “It told me off for bringing the baby here.”

“Why?” asked Hilde, amazed.

“It’s jealous, I think. It said she’s a wild seal baby, and doesn’t belong here, and you won’t be able to manage, Gudrun. Something like that.”

“Wild?” Hilde started to laugh. “She’s as good as gold. If anyone’s wild it’s young Eirik here.” She tickled Eirik’s tear-stained cheek.

Gudrun was watching Peer’s face. “Is there something else?” she asked.

He hesitated. “It threatened to leave if the baby stays. But you know what it’s like. It probably wasn’t serious.”

Gudrun tightened her lips. “I managed when the twins were little, so I suppose I can manage now. And the Nis must learn to cope as well.”

“But it won’t be for long, Gudrun,” Peer tried to comfort her. “I mean, even if they don’t find Kersten, Bjørn will soon come for the baby.”

“But, Peer,” said Hilde impatiently. “Bjørn can’t feed her!”

“Oh, of course!” Peer felt himself flush.

“Yes,” said Gudrun, “if they don’t find Kersten, poor Bjørn will lose his child as well as his wife. Even when she’s weaned, he’s still got to go out fishing. He can’t leave her behind, and he can’t take her along.”

“Then we can keep her!” sang out Sigrid. “Hurrah!”

“Sigrid,” said Hilde menacingly. “This is not something to be happy about.”

“How could Kersten leave her own little baby?” Peer wondered aloud.

“What if Ma is right?” said Hilde. “What if she was really a seal woman all the time, and Bjørn caught her and kept her prisoner?”

“I just don’t believe it!” Peer cried. “Bjørn wouldn’t do that!”

“No?” Hilde flashed. “Then what do you suggest? Did Kersten desert her baby–and Bjørn–for nothing? Bjørn’s a man, so it can’t be his fault, but Kersten can be a bad mother because she’s a woman? Is that what you’re saying?”

Peer stared at her, but before they could speak again, there were voices in the yard and the door latch lifted. Ralf came in, dark against the daylight, bowing his head under the lintel. “Come along, come in,” he called over his shoulder.

Bjørn stepped uncertainly after him, narrowing his eyes a little to see through the indoor shadows. Hilde and Peer exchanged shocked glances and forgot their argument. Could this really be steady, practical, cheerful Bjørn? He looked like a stranger–as if what had happened to him had changed him, or put him on the other side of some barrier of knowledge, so that the old Bjørn was gone, and this new Bjørn was someone they must get to know all over again. There were blue shadows under his eyes, and he did not smile.

Without a word, Gudrun got up and went to him. She put the baby into his arms, kissed him, and drew him forward to sit down at the fire. “Has he eaten?” she whispered to Ralf. Ralf shook his head. Gudrun hurried to fetch a bowl.

Hilde grimaced at Peer. Still carrying the wriggling Eirik, she went to kneel beside Bjørn. “We’re all so sorry,” she said quietly.

“Thanks.” Bjørn’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “And here’s young Eirik Ralfsson!” he added, with an almost natural laugh. “That fine chip off the old block!”

“Yes.” Hilde paused. How could they say what needed to be said?

Bjørn looked down at his own baby. His face clenched. He stood up again and handed her back to Gudrun as she brought his food.

“It’s only groute, but it’s sweet and hot. Eat up, Bjørn, you’ll need your strength,” she said anxiously, lulling the baby against her shoulder.

They tried not to stare as Bjørn ate, at first wearily, but then more hungrily as his appetite returned. Ralf said in a low voice to Gudrun,“He needed that. He was out searching all night. When we saw him coming in this morning, he could barely hold the oars.”

Bjørn put the bowl down and looked at Peer. “So what happened?” he asked quietly.

Peer’s stomach knotted. There was simply no way of softening the bleak tale. In a low voice he described yet again how Kersten had come running over the dunes, how she’d pushed the baby into his arms and rushed past him to the sea. Bjørn listened in silence. Under the force of his attention, Peer scoured his mind for extra details. He recalled the cold touch of Kersten’s hands and the dark tangles of wet hair caught across her face.

“She looked so wild. I thought something dreadful must have happened. I asked her,‘What’s wrong, Kersten? Where are you going?’ And all she said was,‘Home’.”

Bjørn caught a long, tense breath. Gudrun gave a nervous cough. “Well now, Bjørn,” she said. “What might she mean by that? Where was home for Kersten?” Though she tried to sound tactful, the whole family knew she was bursting with curiosity.

“She wasn’t from round here, was she?” Ralf joined in. “A pretty lass, but foreign? Those looks of hers…”

They all thought of tall beautiful Kersten with her dark hair and green eyes.