Katherine Langrish - Troll Mill

The family sat spellbound, their eyes fixed on Bjørn, who stared at the wall as if seeing right through it to the far-distant skerry and the washing waves.

“I leaped down the rocks,” he went on in the same far-off voice. “The air was singing and ringing. The sun winked off the water, sharp as needles. In the blink of an eye the women were gone. All but the nearest! As her sisters threw on their skins and plunged into the water with the seals, I snatched up her sealskin. Heavy, it was–glossy and greasy and reeking of the sea.

“She screamed like a seagull, and her hair fell down over her face and her white shoulders. She stretched out pleading fingers. How she wept! I almost gave it back to her–for sheer pity–but it seemed wrong to wrap such beauty in a stinking sealskin…

“Then I heard a shout. It was Arnë calling, and the boat came knocking along the side of the skerry. And I knew I had to choose.”

Bjørn’s square brown hands knotted. “I’m just a fisherman!” He looked up defiantly. “There I stood with the catch of my life. Suppose I let her go? I already knew that I was caught too. I’d never forget her. I’d grow old still dreaming of her, wishing I’d had the courage to do…what I did then.

“I threw the sealskin down to Arnë. And I put my two arms around her, and wrapped her in my cloak and lifted her into the boat.”

Gudrun breathed out a long, wistful sigh. Ralf shuffled his feet uneasily. Hilde sat frowning, her eyes intent on Bjørn. Even the babies were quiet. Peer’s head ached fiercely. So Bjørn admitted it–he had stolen Kersten! In the silence, Sigrid piped up in a puzzled voice. “Is this a true story, Bjørn?”

Bjørn gave a brief, unhappy smile. “A true story?” he echoed. “There are so many stories, aren’t there, sweetheart? Who knows which are true? I told Arnë a different story, and it may have been a better one. He was only fifteen then, no older than Peer is now, and I could see he was scared. ‘Who’s this, brother?’ said he, and his teeth chattered. So I told him I’d found the girl stranded on the skerry. ‘Likely her boat went down,’ I said. ‘No wonder if she’s a bit dazed. Who knows how many nights and days she’s spent on that rock, with only the seals and the sea birds for company?’

“Arnë accepted it. Even to me, it sounded reasonable. But the weather suddenly changed, with a black squall driving over the sea and the waves clapping against the skerries in spouts of foam.

“As the boat tossed and Arnë rowed, a face rose out of the water–a face that looked half-human, with furious eyes and snarling teeth. A great bull seal it was, that charged at the boat, roaring. He’d have tipped us over. I still had the harpoon. I threw it without even thinking. It sank deep into his shoulder. He screamed, and the line burned though my hands as he dived, and the water around us was streaked with dark blood and red bubbles. Arnë gave a shout, and the girl flung herself at me, screeching like a wildcat. I had to hold her off, and we fell down together in the bottom of the boat as it pitched and swung. I was nearly as crazy as she. The seal in the water, what was it? Her father, her brother? I knew I’d done her wrong.

“At last she lay quiet. Her long hair trailed in the water, over the side of the boat. I looked at her and it came to me that–” Bjørn hesitated. “–that I was in love with a wild thing out of the sea. With no name. What words could there be between us? What understanding? And so I gave her the only gift I could. I named her, ‘Kersten’.

“Kersten,” he repeated gently. “Well, the sea calmed as though we’d thrown oil on the water. And she leaned towards me, shivering and smiling. Yes, she smiled at me and took my hand, and she spoke for the first time. ‘Do you really wish me to be Kersten? Can you pay the price?’

“I said I would, I would pay anything. She put her fingers on my lips.

“‘Hush! It will be a hard price,’ she said, ‘hard as tearing the heart from your body–and we will both pay it. For as long as you keep the sealskin safe , I will be your Kersten . And while I am with you, the seal folk will befriend you and drive the mackerel to your nets. But beware of the day we part’.”

There was quite a silence.

“So that’s the story.” Bjørn looked up, his face bleak. “I kept the sealskin locked away, but the years went by and I got careless. I stopped carrying the key about with me–I left it on the shelf. Surely Kersten knew, although I never told her. I thought she loved me. She did love me! But she took the key and unlocked the sealskin. They’ve called her back, the seal people. Why did she go? Why, without a word to me? After seven years, how could she leave me?

“I’m going to search for her among the skerries, and I’ll search for that bull seal too, for I’m sure he lives and hates me. If I find him, I’ll see what a second blow can do. I’ve nothing to lose now.”

“Nothing? What about the baby?” asked Peer.

“What?” Bjørn sounded as though he hardly understood the question.

“Your baby!” Peer repeated coldly. A throb of rage shook his voice as he remembered the stumbling nightmare of the journey home. “I brought her back for you last night. You’ve hardly looked at her. We don’t even know her name!”

Bjørn lowered his eyes. “She’s called Ran,” he said flatly. “Her name is Ran.”

“What sort of an outlandish name—?” Gudrun’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Kersten wanted a name that came from the sea,” said Bjørn wearily. “Change it, if you don’t like it. Call her Elli. That was the name I would have picked.”

Gudrun was horrified. “Oh, I couldn’t, Bjørn. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Listen to Peer, Bjørn,” Ralf urged. “You’re a father now. You mustn’t take risks.”

“A fine father who can’t even give his child a home.” Bjørn stood. “I must go. You don’t mind me coming to see her–from time to time?”

“Really, Bjørn,” exclaimed Gudrun. “What a question!”

Bjørn nodded. His blue gaze travelled slowly over all of them, seeming to burn each of them up. At Peer, he hesitated, silent appeal in his face. Peer stared back stonily. Bjørn turned away. The door closed behind him.

Ralf rose to his feet. “I’ll go after him. We mustn’t leave him alone. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Besides, I left Einar and Harald and old Thorkell searching the tide-line, and they may have found poor Kersten by now.”

“But Pa!” Hilde cried. “What about Bjørn’s story? Don’t you believe it?”

“No, Hilde, I don’t.” Ralf paused and looked down at her. “Even Bjørn’s not really sure, is he? Oh, I believe he found Kersten on the skerry. But he talks about sunstroke. That can do strange things to a man–make him see things that aren’t there. Most likely, what he told his brother was true, and she’d been stranded there after a wreck. Those waters are dangerous.”

Halfway out of the door he stopped, and added sternly, “And don’t go repeating that story of Bjørn’s, either. No good encouraging him to hope. We’d all like to think that Kersten’s still alive, I know, but it’s best to face up to things. Drowned men and women don’t come back.”

“Leave the door open!” Gudrun called after him, as the sunshine streamed in. “Let’s have some daylight in here!”

Hilde looked at Peer, sitting at the table with his head in his hands. She reached out to touch his shoulder, but changed her mind and carried Eirik outside into the yard. She put him down to crawl about.

The sky was pale blue, with a high layer of fine-combed clouds, and a lower level of clean white puffballs blowing briskly over the top of Troll Fell. Hilde filled her lungs with fresh air and gazed around at the well-loved fields and skyline. Only one thing had changed since last year: the new mound on the rising ground above the farm, where old Grandfather Eirik had been laid to rest. “Where he can keep an eye on us all,” Ralf had said gruffly. “Where he can get a good view of everything that’s going on!”