To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [184]
As a place of residence, the mother holm of the Westmanns had few attractions to offer. Like the parent Iceland itself, the island was uneven and wild, its surface contorted with misshapen mountains, its sea cliffs defended by ferocious rock-teeth and reefs. Against the white of the snow the bright tasselled pavilions, diced with colour, might have blown from a tourney in Florence until you saw how they shook in the wind, the snow sliding glazed down their sides. There was one spring of water, half frozen.
The scream of the birds never ceased, nor the howl of the wind, nor the surf-roar. It was not a haven of quiet.
When he left, the fishing had already begun, and the yoles were coming back to his men with their catch. One of his ship’s boats was in use, and the other, damaged by Paúel, would soon be out of the carpenter’s hands. The rest of the fishing was being done for him by the Icelanders. He reckoned that three days or four would complete it. He had some salt, but not much: most of the barrels were now filled by the pre-empted stockfish. He remained ineffably pleased about that. No one liked to handle green fish: the cold, aching toil of the gutting; the blood and the offal. But it would all fetch its price in the market. He would even fill and tow the Unicorn’s boat, which had carried Sersanders to the Svipa. The Icelanders had returned it.
He used a borrowed boat now, on his way to collect the Sersanders siblings. When at the last moment Benecke asked to go with him, Nicholas agreed on a moment’s reflection. He should be back before nightfall. And all his best men were on board behind him: Crackbene and John, Lutkyn and Yuri and, of course, Moriz. Their guns were trained on the Maiden, and there were watches on each of the hills. It was not impossible that another ship would arrive, but unlikely. And if it did, it would be well advised not to make trouble.
Nevertheless, to have the Maiden’s master at his side was not a bad precaution. Added to which, he liked the man as much as he mistrusted him.
Today, the blizzard might never have been. The sand of the strange double coastline with its dangerous surf was quite black, and even the Markarfljót strand, when he reached it, was glistening grey and not white. Only through the haze of the smoke could you see banks of brilliant purity which might be clouds, or uplands, or mountains. There were, he noted, two columns of smoke in the sky. Robin’s head turned towards them, and away.
He walked on through the settlement, with Paúel and Robin. Women and children clamoured about them. The stench of fish was appalling. There was no sign of Sersanders, or Kathi. Then he heard what the women were saying. Robin, who was also a pupil of Lutkyn, halted beside him. He said, ‘She was longing to visit the mainland.’ He sounded apologetic.
Benecke said, ‘Something is wrong?’ Beneath the leather cap over his bandage he wore a permanent, black-bearded leer. He knew the girl had fled from her brother’s care to de Fleury. He was unlikely to believe she had come to his ship as a peace-maker.
Nicholas said, ‘They’re not here. They’ve gone inland, it seems. You’d better go back to the ship. It’ll be dark pretty soon. I’m coming anyway, to get some provisions. Then I’ll sleep here and collect the pair of them tomorrow.’
‘Where?’ said Benecke. ‘They are surely not coming back here?’ He was not smiling now. He suspected.
‘Probably not,’ Nicholas said, after a pause.
‘Then let them go,’ Benecke said. ‘Unless the girl matters a great deal, why trouble?’
His eye glinted. It pleased Nicholas to notice his injured arm, tucked into his jacket. At the same time, he cursed Katelijne Sersanders. She should have stayed. Then they could all have gone back on board, and he would have paid someone to find and bring back her brother. And if they didn’t find him, he could damned well hide here till some ship came. For choice, a greedy big Hanse ship from Lübeck.
Nicholas turned from the Danziger’s black, cynical eye to the clear