Hannah Kent - Burial Rites

‘Natan will kill you.’ I gestured towards the stain of blood and dirt surrounding the sheep. ‘You’ve ruined the meat. And the skin.’

Fridrik laughed. I wanted to slap him for kicking the sheep, but I had no power over him, and he knew it.

‘It was already dead, Agnes. It died this morning.’ He wiped a melting fleck of bloody snow from his cheek, and heaved his boot out of the drift to walk past me. ‘Don’t worry, it will still be good to eat.’

‘You’ve trampled it.’

He rolled his eyes.

‘You’ll catch your death,’ he called out, his back to me. I watched the snow clouds descend upon the mountain and let the chill air prickle at my ribs until I shuddered with the cold.

Seeing Fridrik hack at the sheep with his boots unsettled something within me. It was portentous: the rapid limbs, dark against the snow, colliding with the soft corpse until a fine mist of blood floated above.

Snow began to fall. I turned around to follow Fridrik back to the farm, and saw a raven descend upon the sheep. It gave a mournful caw and then plunged its beak into the innards. Snowflakes landed on its black feathers.

I interrupted Fridrik and Sigga sitting together on her bed, whispering in low voices. Sigga looked as though she had been crying.

‘There are two sheep missing,’ I said.

‘Well, one of them is dead. You saw it yourself.’ Fridrik yawned.

‘Not the one you were kicking. There are another two besides.’

Fridrik gave a nasty smile and I knew at once what had happened.

‘You killed them.’ Sigga let out a sob, and Fridrik stood up. He walked over to me and bent close. I could smell his sweat.

‘Agnes. You might like to know that Sigga and I have been talking this morning.’ His voice cracked with anger. ‘Natan has been taking advantage of her.’

I waited until I could speak calmly.

‘I already knew.’

Sigga burst into tears. ‘I’m sorry, Agnes! I wanted to tell you so bad!’

Fridrik paused. ‘You knew?’

‘I thought she’d agreed to it.’ My voice was brittle.

‘He’s been raping her!’ He began pacing the floor. I noticed that he held Sigga’s green silk nightdress in his hand, a present from Natan. ‘I’m going to kill him.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Go ahead. A lot of difference that will make now.’ I turned to Sigga. ‘Did he force you?’

‘Of course he forced her!’ Fridrik sat down again next to Sigga and punched the mattress. Sigga gave a start.

‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.

I thought back to the night I heard him moving inside her. The night after the death waves. The hurried breathing. A quick, light moan. There had not been a struggle.

‘It’s against God,’ Fridrik said.

I couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I don’t think any of this has much to do with God.’

Sigga looked panicked. ‘Agnes? Are you very disappointed in me?’

‘Why would I be disappointed?’ My voice was as smooth as the ocean.

Fridrik glared, looking down at the nightdress. ‘He’s a bastard. I’ll kill him.’

‘I don’t want Natan to die.’ The simper in Sigga’s voice made me want to slap her.

I laughed. ‘Fridrik’s not going to kill anyone.’

‘Yes I am.’ He stood up again, his hands in meaty fists.

‘No, you’re not,’ I said. ‘Anyway, what does it matter? You’re still going to marry her.’

Fridrik sneered. ‘I wouldn’t expect a woman like you to understand.’

I felt my mouth grow dry.

‘Sigga said Natan’s been having his way with you as well. Only we seem to think that you enjoy it a sight more than Sigga!’

I stepped towards Sigga and saw her flinch. ‘I’m not going to hit you,’ I said. But I could have. I wanted to.

Daníel came in and Fridrik fell quiet. I was shaking with anger. I hated Fridrik. I hated his pimpled skin, flushed red by the cold. Hated his blue eyes and their sticky rim of blond lashes. I hated his high voice, his smell of horseshit, his constant visits.

‘Go home, Fridrik.’ It was Daníel who spoke first.

‘There’s a snowstorm coming.’

‘Then go get caught in it.’ I was suddenly grateful for Daníel’s presence.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Fridrik said, and he sat down again next to Sigga, putting an arm around her protectively.

‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ Daníel asked, whispering. ‘It’s true about Natan sharing a bed with the both of you.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s unholy.’

‘Fridrik has killed some sheep.’

‘What? Here?’

‘I think he took at least two to Katadalur last night, or early this morning, and killed them there.’

‘Natan will murder Fridrik!’

‘Not if Fridrik kills Natan first,’ I said. ‘He’s in a temper.’

Daníel ran his hands through his hair, and looked over at the couple on the bed. ‘He’s a fool and a thug,’ he sighed. ‘I’ll talk to him once his blood cools.’

*

Natan returned to Illugastadir three days later. Fridrik was not there when he came home. I cannot imagine what would have happened if he had been. As it was, Natan wasn’t overjoyed to hear the news of Sigga and Fridrik’s engagement. I told him. Sigga slipped out to the storeroom at the sound of his arrival in the yard.

‘I can’t leave you alone without some disaster befalling the lot of us.’

‘It’s hardly a disaster, Natan. You accepted Fridrik’s money for her; you should have known this was coming.’

‘I suppose you’re happy about this,’ he grunted.

‘Me? What has any of this got to do with me?’

‘You’ve been playing matchmaker all autumn long.’

I held out my hands for the bridle as he unsaddled his horse. ‘I have been doing no such thing.’

‘I suppose you have all been celebrating.’

‘No. Even Sigga seems confused about what has happened.’

He turned around to face me properly, raising an eyebrow. ‘Is that so?’

I nodded. ‘Fridrik’s leaping out of his pants for joy, but Sigga doesn’t seem so thrilled.’

Natan smiled then, and shook his head. ‘A couple of young idiots, the both of them.’ He gently took the bridle and saddlecloth out of my hand and placed them on the snow. His face was sober. ‘Agnes. My Agnes, I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have hit you.’

I didn’t say anything, but I didn’t resist when he took up my hand.

‘I have been talking with Worm, and he thinks I am distracted. Travelling too much in the damp. The dreams, they…’ His voice trailed off. ‘We’ve all behaved badly towards one another. I have not been myself.’

He released my hand and picked up the bridle and cloth. ‘Here,’ he said, giving them to me. ‘Put these away and I’ll see you inside.’ I turned to leave, but he held onto me. ‘Agnes,’ he said, gently. ‘I’m glad to see you.’

That night we shook with the same desires that possessed us as before. And when we woke in the wintered darkness, my body flushed with happiness at the knowledge that he slept beside me. If Sigga or Daníel woke and saw us lying there together they said nothing. I stripped his bed of blankets and placed them at the foot of my own.

MARGRÉT RETURNED FROM THE DAIRY with another pan of milk. Outside the wind blew so hard that a hollow moaning could be heard.

Agnes leaned over and prodded the coals of the fire. ‘Shall I use peat or dung?’ she asked.

Margrét pointed to the dung. ‘Go on. We may as well keep the fire burning for as long as we sit here.’

‘Where was I?’

‘You were saying that Fridrik proposed to Sigga.’ Margrét gently poured more milk into the pot. It hissed as it touched the hot metal.