Embla gulped down a sudden knot in her throat. She had almost forgotten how isolated they were. Nodding, she called to Sten and he began to follow her dutifully down the hill and into the forest. When she reached the cesspit, she emptied the waste bucket into the hole, and then trudged back up the slope, Sten at her side.
That was not too bad—at least there were some benefits to living alone.
The cesspit back home was horrendously disgusting, and visiting it was her least favourite chore of the day. This was easy and almost pleasant in comparison...apart from the threat of bears and wolves, of course.
As she made her way to the barn, she realised it was far more dilapidated than the house, which was a shame. It was large, and could easily have been used for the animals if it were not almost falling apart. There was a cold store dug into the ground beside it, which she quickly went in to inspect. Pleased and reassured by Runar’s stores, she gathered up a few things for the evening meal, and fordagmalthe next day. There were plenty of oats, barley, vegetables, dried fruit, and even some flour hidden at the back.
She was certain that with some careful planning she could ensure there was enough to last them throughout the winter. It was also reassuring that Runar had said he would hunt or trade with his mother’ssiidaif they needed anything more. She’d thought the ingredients would be more sparse and disappointing considering he lived in such isolation. Yet he had more food than some of the farmers she knew.
Next, she went into the barn and noted the huge stacks of hay and wood. She remembered one of the fishermen saying that the wild manbought stacks of hay and other goods when he visited Gudvangen, and then paid a fisherman to drop it on the other side of the mountain. The fisherman had laughed that Runar must be stupid, because he had never thought to buy a boat for himself.
But now that she knew Runar a little better, she would guess that he still hated boats from when he went Viking. It was probably a deliberate choice not to use one, as it would only remind him of his seasickness and the death of his father. Still, it was a shame he didn’t have a boat, because then maybe she could have sailed back to Gudvangen in it. The weeks ahead seemed endless, and she sighed as she looked around her again at the leaking and dilapidated barn.
The wood and hay were positioned in a strange order, bunched up in sections. They were the only dry areas, she realised when her boots squelched in the muddy floor beneath a hole in the roof.
Two very large chests were positioned in one particularly dry corner of the barn. One, she discovered, was filled with pelts in a range of colours, and were soft and luxurious to the touch. These must be the furs he sold in the spring. It was not surprising he stored them out here, as keeping them cool would stop them from shedding.
But she wondered at the remaining chest. Unlike the other, it was elaborately painted and carved with animals. Not in the Norse style, but in the same manner as the crafts she had seen made by the Sami. It seemed a shame to keep something so beautiful out in the cold.
Why was it out here?
It wasn’t locked, and as Runar had told her to look for the bolts of cloth, she decided to let her curiosity win over politeness.
Inside and covered with waxed linen to protect the contents were several colourful bolts of red and blue fabric. But that wasn’t all; there was an array of embroidered trims and decorative thread, a large bag of sewing tools, as well as some beads and ribbons.
Her heart ached as she carefully unwrapped and laid out the treasures. It was the kind of chest a bride might have received as a marriage gift. Her suspicions were confirmed when she unwrapped a set of carefully hand-stitched baby boots made with white reindeer fur.
This was why his mother had given it to him all those years ago, and why he had left it untouched. She wondered if he had ever opened the chest. Each parcel was still so carefully wrapped, as if waiting for a young bride’s hands to open them.
This was meant to be a gift for Runar’s wife. A carefully collected offering for a bride who had never stayed.
This was Gertrud’s treasure, and now it was hers...
Embla did not want it either; she had only been offered it out of necessity, because Runar did not believe he would ever use it. That made her sadder than having to use something meant for another woman. She took out one bolt of red cloth, and then rewrapped the contents carefully, to keep it safe and dry before closing the lid firmly.
She would use it to make one dress, as that was all she really needed. One to wear and one to wash.
She had no right to the rest.
Chapter Nine
Runar frowned at the messy carcass of a reindeer at his feet. The blood and entrails splashed across the snow in a gruesome display. He nudged it with his foot and it barely moved, frozen to the core.
Good.The wolf who had killed it would be long gone if the body had time to freeze.
‘Such a waste,’ he sighed, and taking it by its hooves, he dragged it to the cliff edge. ‘I am sorry your life was taken without purpose... Enjoy your endless sleep.’ With a firm push of his boot, he nudged it over the cliff.
It was a shame, as all animals deserved dignity or purpose in death, but the meat was tainted, and he wanted the smell of gore nowhere near Embla. The scent might encourage more wolves, or even a lynx to come into the area.
The wolf that had killed it had done so purely for its own amusement and not to fill its belly. A pack, or a mother with cubs would have picked it clean, but the body had been mauled and then left to rot. A lone wolf was the only explanation; they could be mindlessly cruel, simply for the joy of it, or because they had been driven mad by disease. Either way, the sight of the reindeer worried him. A mad beast could not be easily frightened away with loud noises, and if Embla stumbled into its path...
He walked away from the cliff edge and the disturbing thought.
Embla was safe in the cabin with Sten,he reassured himself.
Recently he had set up a warning system around the perimeter to inform her if an animal approached. So far, she had used it to judge when to start serving his evening meal. He didn’t mind how she used it, as long as she was inside when it sounded.
He smiled as he thought about thenattmalEmbla would even now be preparing for him. She was an exceptional cook, and no matter what ingredients he offered her, she always made the most of them. Hare, deer, or even mushrooms, her meals were always impressive, filling, and used his winter stores creatively.
