Tim Leach - Smile of the Wolf

‘That time has passed,’ Vigdis said. ‘That is not what I want.’

‘What is it you want of me, then?’

‘I want you to die.’

Dalla gave no response – not a flinch, nor even a blink. Not at first. But then her head dipped a little, her shoulders rose a little, as if some iron weight had been hung from her neck. Yet her expression did not change, even as she simply asked: ‘Why?’

‘He said that he would kill my child, if he could. What forgiveness can there be for that?’

‘A man may say many things when his blood is up.’

‘Oh, he meant what he said. I saw it in him. There will be no settlement. No trading of blood for silver. Only of blood for blood.’

‘You could end this whenever you wish.’

‘Yes, I could. But I do not want to.’

I have seen men when they are about to die in battle. Cut and wounded, shield broken and no ally to help them. They always come forward, make one last attack. Even if they know that it can do no good, for there is nothing left for them to do. Many do it smiling, thinking of the glory that waits for them in the next world. Others go with a studied seriousness, focusing only on that moment, that last moment, and thinking of nothing else. And so it was that Dalla raised her head and said: ‘Your first husband, Hrapp. He must have been as evil as they say, to have given you such hate.’

‘No,’ Vigdis said. ‘I think it was I who made him that way.’

We did not speak for a time, after we left the longhouse. We moved fast, to get to the higher ground where we might not be taken by surprise. Before, I would not have thought that they would attack us, that they would dishonour themselves by murdering a woman. After hearing Vigdis speak, I did not know what I believed.

We pushed hard, lungs burning and legs heavy, until we reached the tarn. There we rested and drank, and soaked water into rags that we held to our skin.

There was every reason to hurry and none at all to wait. Yet when we had finished, I found that I did not want to leave. It seemed that Dalla felt it too. We lingered. I waited for her to speak.

I thought of the winter past. Of all the times I had lain awake at night and listened to Gunnar and to Dalla, listened to their lovemaking.

For there is no privacy in such a place – no privacy except the darkness. In such a home, especially in winter, there is not a thing that one does not know about the other.

There are some who would have a fascination for listening to the practices of a husband and his wife, or lonely men who might nurse their jealousy and resentment like a man sharpening a spear. It meant nothing to me.

But I remember once that I wished to look upon them, like those heroes of the old stories who long to look upon that which is forbidden, that I could not help but look. And I remember seeing that she looked back upon me. Just the white of her eyes, glinting like silver in the night. And a thing unspoken passed between us, though I could not say what it was.

‘Taking me there cannot have been easy,’ she said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You could not feel it?’

‘I do not understand.’

‘It was not a ghost you killed that night,’ she said, ‘but that house is full of them. You truly did not feel it?’

‘No.’

‘I thought that a poet would see it even better than I. No matter. Perhaps it takes a woman to know it.’

‘To know what?’

She shook her head. ‘I do not want to think of what has happened in that place. What has been said and done there. It is a place of horrors.’ She clasped her hands together. ‘What will we do now?’ she said.

I did not reply for a time. Then I said: ‘I thought that you meant to offer me up to them. That you thought to buy Gunnar’s life with mine.’

‘I would have done, if I thought that it would do any good. Does that surprise you?’

‘No. I would not blame you for it. We would both do anything for Gunnar.’

She nodded. ‘Yes. We have that much in common.’ She rolled a hand through the waters of the tarn and watched the ripples run. ‘May I tell you something?’

‘Of course.’

‘I met Gunnar when he had just come to this land,’ she said. ‘A Viking bearing a small hoard of gold and silver, looking for a home. He came to my father’s hall, seeking a wealthy man’s favour. He saw my broken nose and asked what man had done that to me, so that he might avenge the insult. My father said that he was the one who had done it. And Gunnar told my father that he would either marry his daughter or kill him in the holmgang . And so we were married.’

‘He never told me that story. You are well matched to Gunnar.’

‘Yes, I am. But I would have given Gunnar up to her, to save him. To save our children.’ She put her scarred face into her scarred hands, but still she did not weep.

‘You must have loved him from the beginning,’ I said.

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I wanted to leave my father’s house. I would have married any man who would have taken a flat-nosed girl. I did not love him for many years. I taught myself that art.’ She picked at the grass at her side. ‘Tell me how you met him.’

‘I was at Olaf’s hall two winters past. Gunnar came to visit his chieftain. He brought a few grudging gifts, hardly said a word to any man there. I thought him to be just another arrogant troublemaker. A bully with a fine sword. Yet when I sang, I saw him smile. He sat down on the ground and spoke not a word until he was certain that I had finished.’

‘And you believed that was who he truly was?’

‘Of course. If there is magic in song, it is that. When I sing to them, I see who men truly are. Women too.’

‘I remember when he came back from Olaf’s hall and told me of you. Still smiling then, his eyes alive. It was as if you were some woman he had fallen in love with.’ She hesitated. ‘I wish that he had not met you. So much might have been different.’

‘You hate me, I think.’

‘I do not hate you. I see you carrying my death with you. It is hard not to hate such a man. But I try.’

I could not think of a word to say to that. She noted this and smiled. ‘A poet struck silent. At least I have seen that in my time.’ She stood. ‘Come. Let us go back. Gunnar will be back soon and I do not wish to answer his questions.’ She paused, then said, ‘I want to forget that I ever spoke to that woman.’

‘We will fight.’

‘I will get ready to fight. You must be ready to run.’ She smiled then, that same awful, hopeless baring of teeth that I had seen Gunnar give at the Althing. A warrior’s smile. Had she learned it from him or had he learned it from her?

‘But first,’ she said, ‘we will have our feast. They will not take that from us.’

We are in the deepest part of the night now, are we not?

No moon tonight, and clouds are knotted thick as the rings on a mail shirt. The black air surrounds us. We should be long asleep, but there is much more for me to tell. There will be no sleep for either of us tonight. We shall have to have waking dreams, instead.

And so now, in this darkness, when we can see so little of our own country – let me tell you of other lands.

For you have never left Iceland, have you? You have known no place but this. You tell me you never wish to leave. But you are young and the time will come when you tire of this island, when you dream of some other place that might make a better home. Some place where you might be born anew.

Perhaps you will travel to Norway or Denmark, the old kingdoms of your ancestors. You will see great cities and know what true power looks like in this world. One such as you would catch the eye of the king, and I know you would find favour there. Gold, women, war – all the things that men desire, they would be yours.