West of the Moon

Peer got the door open and Loki vanished into the yard.

“Come here,” said Uncle Baldur to Peer, cutting himself some more cheese. Peer approached reluctantly till he was standing between his uncle’s outstretched legs. Crumbs of bread and cheese speckled his uncle’s beard. His stained shirt gaped open at the throat, exposing another tangle of black hair. A flea jumped out. Uncle Baldur caught it, cracked it, wiped his fingers on his shirt, and reached for more bread.

“That dog,” he said, nodding at Grendel. “That dog only obeys me and Grim. Right? He hates other dogs. He’s a born fighter.”

“Killed half a dozen,” agreed Grim in a sort of proud growl.

“So if you want to keep your dog in one piece, you watch your step and make yourself very, very useful.” Uncle Baldur stared Peer straight in the eye. “Otherwise we might organise a little dogfight. Understand?”

Peer understood. He compressed his lips and nodded, as slightly as he dared.

“Good.” Baldur explored a back molar with a dirty fingernail. “Now what’s all this about Ralf Eiriksson?”

“I don’t know,” said Peer sullenly. “No!” he added. “I mean, all I know is what I’ve told you. His daughter says he’s walking to Hammerhaven this morning. He’s going a-Viking for the summer. I didn’t ask any more.”

His uncles winked at each other, and Uncle Baldur kicked Peer on the ankle. “Where did the girl go?”

“To the village,” said Peer in a small voice. “To buy fish.”

“I want to see her.” Uncle Baldur jabbed Peer in the chest. “Watch for her coming back. Bring her straight to me. Right?”

He turned to the table, not waiting for a reply, and tossed him the end of a loaf. “Eat that and get on with the chores,” he said abruptly. “Grim’ll show you what to do. And remember – fetch me that girl!”

Chapter 5

Trouble at the Mill

HILDE’S SHOES SANK into the wet sand. She rubbed her arms, willing the sun to climb higher. It was chilly here on the beach in the shadow of Troll Fell. The tide was going out, and cold grey waves splashed on the shore.

“Half a dozen herring and a couple of crabs? Done!” agreed Bjørn cheerfully. He shouted to his brother who sat in the boat sorting the catch, “Find us a couple of good big crabs, Arne!” He turned back to Hilde. “Any news?”

“I should say so,” said Hilde gloomily. “My father’s left. Gone off for the whole summer on the new longship they’ve built at Hammerhaven.”

Bjørn whistled, Arne clambered out of the boat, and Hilde discovered that explaining it all to two interested young men cheered her up – especially when Arne fixed his vivid blue eyes on her face. “Lucky Ralf,” he said enviously. “I wish I’d heard about it. What’s the ship like?”

“Lovely,” Hilde assured him. “She’s got a dragon head, all carved and painted.”

“Yes,” Bjørn laughed, “but how long is she? How many oars?”

Hilde didn’t know. “That boy at the mill could tell you. His father built her.”

“What boy?”

“The millers’ nephew. I met him this morning. They’ve taken him in because his father died.”

Bjørn’s eyebrows rose. “The millers have taken in an orphan? What’s he like?”

“He’s all right,” said Hilde without enthusiasm. “He seems a bit nervous.”

“I’d be nervous in his shoes,” said Bjørn darkly. “Arne! Dreamer! Give the girl her fish!”

With her basket full of herring and the two live crabs wrapped firmly in a cloth, Hilde rode whistling back up the steep path out of the village. Her good mood lasted until she came in sight of the mill. Even the spring sunshine could not gild its slimy black thatch. The brook rushed away from it, tumbling over itself in a white cascade. Nobody happy had ever lived there.

Hilde felt sorry for the boy, Peer, but she didn’t want to stop. She gathered up the reins and trotted, hoping to get past without being seen, but as she reached the bridge, Peer dashed out of the yard. “Hilde! Hilde!” He ran up, looking pale and miserable. “I’m sorry. My uncles want to talk to you. Will you come?”

Hilde rode warily into the yard. Both the millers were there, lounging on the doorstep. They lowered their heads threateningly – like a couple of prize bulls, Hilde thought.

“What d’you want?” she demanded.

“A little bird told us,” Baldur sneered in his high voice, “that Daddy’s gone away. The great Ralf Eiriksson, who thinks he’s so important. Is that right? Eh?”

“Only for the summer,” said Hilde icily. “He’ll be back before winter with a bunch of his Viking friends, so don’t give me any trouble, Baldur Grimsson.”

“Vikings!” said Baldur. “I don’t give that for Vikings.” He spat. “Besides, what with storms and whirlpools and sea serpents, he’ll never come back.”

“Is that all you have to say?” snapped Hilde.

“No!” Baldur snarled. He came up close and grabbed the pony by the bridle. “Tell your mother – and your grandpa –” he emphasised the words with a stab of his thick forefinger, “to keep off that land on Troll Fell that belongs to us. You ask your mother which she’d prefer. Those fields – or that golden cup? The land is ours. And so are the sheep you’ve been grazing on it. You and your family keep off the Stonemeadow!”

He let go of the bridle and whistled. Grendel came hurtling out of the mill.

“See ’em off!” shouted Grim.

Hilde grabbed the mane. The terrified pony whirled out of the yard and bolted over the bridge and up the hill. Clinging to her bouncing basket, she hauled on the reins and slithered off sideways as the pony came to a snorting halt. “It’s all right! It’s all right.” She patted its steaming neck. “The dog’s not after you now…”

But the pony rolled a wild eye as a little brown dog burst out of the bushes. There was a crackling, crashing noise as someone tackled the steep and brambly shortcut up the side of the hill. Hilde shook back her hair. “Who’s there?” she challenged.

Peer’s pale and dirty face became visible as he parted some branches. “Are you all right?” he puffed.

“No thanks to you!” Hilde scowled at him. “Was it you who told those – those oafs – that my father has gone away?”

“Yes, it was,” said Peer miserably. “I didn’t mean any harm – I didn’t know it was important. I’m sorry, Hilde.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Hilde recovered her temper. “Stop apologising. You haven’t done anything. They’d have heard soon enough. Everybody knows everything in a little place like this.” She gave him a sharp look. “Why are you hiding in the bushes, Peer? Are you scared of the millers? Or are you scared of me?”

Peer flushed. He didn’t answer.

“Well,” Hilde went on, “I expect there’s going to be trouble. I’m sorry, Peer, but I absolutely detest your uncles.”

“So do I,” said Peer in a low, savage voice. “I don’t know why they want me. There’s something going on that I don’t understand. Some strange plan. They stole my father’s money. I heard them counting it and talking about someone called the Gaffer – and a wedding. And if I don’t do everything they say, they’ll set their dog on Loki. He’ll be killed.”

“That’s terrible!” Hilde cried. She patted Loki, who collapsed on to his back and folded up his paws to let her rub his tummy. She scratched his chest. “Money, and a wedding?” she repeated, frowning. “I can’t imagine. Of course, old Grim, their father, was always poking about looking for the trolls’ treasure.”

“Was he? Why?”

“It’s a long story. Have you got time? And anyway, whose side are you on?”

“On your side,” said Peer with determination. “Even if they are my uncles. But I can’t help living with them. I’ve got nowhere else to go.”