To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [196]
‘Then we must follow,’ Nicholas said. ‘Or I must follow. You should try and find Sigfús Helgason, should you not? With your dog?’
Dogs could find human beings under nine ells of snow, Robin had said. You wouldn’t find nine ells of snow anywhere here, unless in a fissure, or a hole in a lava-bed, or unless the snow started again. The water still sparkled in sunlight; the snow that clouded its banks was nothing but eddies scooped up by the wind.
Glímu-Sveinn said, ‘I cannot leave you.’
‘But there is a ferry,’ Nicholas said. ‘A ferry, you said, to the north? We shall take six of the horses and follow the prints of the young people. Then the ferryman surely will help us. Leave the bear. It isn’t worth salving. Find Sigfús and join us once he is safe.’
‘You didn’t ask me,’ said Paúel Benecke ten minutes later. They stood, mounted once more, looking after the vanishing Icelander.
‘You’ve no say. You’re my prisoner,’ said Nicholas. ‘Why? Have I done something to frighten you?’
‘No,’ Benecke said. ‘We have abandoned our guide and his dog. We are two men in a strange land in charge of a handful of horses with, I fear, more snow on the way, and a track to follow which may soon be obliterated. I have never felt happier. Where is the bear-cub, do you suppose?’
‘Pursuing Sigfús, very likely,’ said Nicholas. ‘And if he isn’t, he’s smaller than you are. Do you know what I think?’ He had started to ride. Benecke followed.
‘You don’t think,’ Benecke said. ‘They were right. They said you were a furious maniac.’ His eyes were gleaming.
Nicholas said, ‘I think our Flemish couple have gone to the springs. Kathi wanted to see them. They’re over the river.’
‘What springs?’ Benecke said.
‘Hot springs,’ Nicholas answered. ‘Great big enormous boiling hot gushers, leaping a hundred feet high. Bubbling mud. Steaming pools. Seething rivers. They’re all over Iceland. People cook their food in them, and dry and wash out their clothes, and bathe themselves every Thváttdagr, Saturday. They changed Fryádagr to Föstudagr, Fast Day, but of course they eat fish every day, so they could call it Sinful Blood Pudding Day for all that it matters. Anyway, they got tired of Freya, according to Glímu-Sveinn:
‘I will not serve an idle log
For one, I care not which;
But either Odin is a dog
Or Freya is a bitch.’
Paúel Benecke moaned. ‘You are a maniac! You meant to go to the springs all along!’
‘No. Kathi did. But I must say,’ Nicholas said, ‘that now I have leave of Besse, I shall enjoy it.’
He frowned at Benecke’s uplifted brows. ‘The great white bear. The Muscovites, I am told, call him Mishka, and the Mongolians refer to him as Ese, grandfather. Once, long ago, a young priest called Isleifr from Iceland carried one as a gift to the Emperor, and lived to become Bishop of Skálholt. Nowadays, when one does something without leave in Iceland, one does it by permission of Besse.’
‘The tale of your life, I suspect,’ said Paúel Benecke. ‘And of mine, I have to admit. So yes. Let us go. Let us go and visit your devilish cauldrons. I have no desire to meet this Sersanders, but I am much looking forward to the acquaintance of your young brother Kathi.’
Chapter 27
I TOLD YOU,’ said Katelijne Sersanders. ‘I told you he’d come. Tie it tight. Tighter. I knew he’d come. You’d better be ready with a merry quip about the Unicorn and the sulphur. Now throw it in.’
With a jerk of pure exasperation, her brother did as she asked. He said, ‘Nicholas doesn’t know about the Unicorn and the sulphur. He’s probably sunk the Maiden, killed its captain, and thinks that it wouldn’t do any harm to ingratiate himself with the Icelanders and me. God knows the Bishop and the Governor are not fond of the Hanse.’
‘I’d be surprised if they were,’ Kathi said, ‘considering how much money they make behind the Hanse’s back. I’m going to call again. Stop your ears.’ She had tried to teach Sersanders falsetto, but he had never been in the Tyrol and couldn’t split his voice into three. She warbled for a long time, with some pride; and was gratified,