To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [181]
Then he heard, through the snow, the voices of men; and among them, incredibly, the animated, cheerful voice of his sister Katelijne. Anselm Sersanders rose and ducked through the door, to stand lowering. The girls came out behind him, and the woman. All the nearby huts emptied. They all stood in the slush smiling at Kathi, as a fisherman carried her up from the boat on his back.
She looked pretty. That was the first thing he saw as they set her down. She looked clear-eyed and red-cheeked and happy, with none of the anxiety she had shown when he was trying to persuade her to part from the Svipa. He exclaimed, with relief, ‘You got away!’
The men round her were grinning. ‘Well, not exactly,’ said his sister. ‘I was invited to leave. Her se Gud. Hvad heittir thú? May I come into your house?’
She was not speaking to him, but to the women. He had to guess what she said. When the women replied, Kathi laughed.
‘What?’ said Sersanders. ‘Can they take us back to the Unicorn? Can we leave?’
‘No. They ask how many babies we have,’ Kathi said.
‘Who?’
‘You and I.’
‘Tell them we are brother and sister!’
‘I have,’ Kathi said. She was bidding goodbye to the oarsmen, each of whom kissed her on the mouth. She kissed them all back and returned. ‘We can’t leave. The Hanse ship has taken the Unicorn. If we go back, they’ll hold us to ransom. If we wait, it may work out all right.’
‘How?’ said Anselm Sersanders.
She looked at him thoughtfully. ‘M. de Fleury has a plan.’
‘I’m sure,’ said her brother. ‘To leave.’
‘No. To do with the Unicorn. He said if you and I stayed, we’d be picked up.’
‘Who by, do you suppose?’ enquired her brother. ‘You say the Unicorn can’t, and the Hanse ship doesn’t know we are here. They’ll all leave, Nicholas too, and we’re stranded. That’s why he put us off, isn’t it?’
‘I guessed he was getting sated with me,’ Kathi said, ‘that last moonlit night up the mast-basket. Anselm, don’t be an idiot. He put us off because he’s got a plan to deal with the Maiden, and he doesn’t want us about if there’s fighting. If it works, he will come, or the Unicorn. If it doesn’t work, I fancy he’ll tell Benecke where we are, and we’ll be taken prisoner as we should have been in the first place. Aren’t you getting cold?’
‘No. He’s tricked you. I’m going to do something.’
‘What?’ Kathi said. ‘We’re in the midst of a snowstorm. It’ll be dark in two hours. Whatever happens, the fishing-boats will find out and we’ll hear. If it’s bad news, you can think what to do in the morning. Is this the house you were in? Something’s cooking.’
He followed her in, arguing still. The old woman stood up, the fish-forest parting above her, and Kathi, smiling, went over to speak. They talked for a long time. The cauldron reeked of mutton and sheep grease and fish. Kathi, returning, took up the ladle and dipped it. She said, ‘It is Tryggvi-Sigurdsson’s house. He is doing something for Nikolás-riddari, but will be back when it is dark. She apologises for the fishing-hut; their farmhouse inland is much bigger, and Glímu-Sveinn’s farm is the biggest of all. She says it’s the custom to lodge foreigners in the church, but there isn’t one handy.’
‘There is a cathedral,’ Sersanders said. ‘At Skálholt. Ask where Skálholt is.’
‘Why? We’re not going there,’ Kathi said. ‘Oh Anselm, look.’ Her ladle, dipping and stirring, had brought up a fish. Its eyes had withered. The next attempt produced a long slackened form, its neck drooping. ‘A cormorant,’ Kathi said. ‘Or a shag? And oh, look.’
She paused. Sersanders said, ‘Oh Christ, I can’t bear it. Kathi!’
‘I know,’ she said sadly. ‘A poffin. The poor little bird with the enormous red beak and the feet. They made love beside them on Nólsoy.’
‘Who made love? Kathi, don’t cry. Kathi, sit