Burial Rites(77)

It took Daníel to tell me how it really was.

The farmhand was waiting for me one day when Natan was not at home. I stepped out of the workshop, locked the door, and saw Daníel standing on the shore, his scythe in one hand, his hat in the other.

‘What were you doing in there?’ he asked me.

‘None of your business.’

‘We’re not allowed in there,’ he said. ‘Where did you find the key?’

‘Natan gave it to me. He trusts me.’

‘Oh yes,’ Daníel said, ‘I forgot you maids get special treatment.’

‘And what do you mean by that?’

Daníel laughed. ‘Where are my sealskin shoes? Where are my new clothes?’

Natan was generous when the mood took him. ‘You haven’t been here long,’ I pointed out to Daníel. ‘I’m sure you’ll receive a present when Natan returns.’

‘I don’t want something from Natan.’

‘No? You were just complaining about our special treatment.’

‘I want something from you.’

Daníel’s tone changed then. His voice became softer. ‘Agnes, you must know that I am fond of you.’

I laughed. ‘Fond of me? You told everyone at Geitaskard we were engaged!’

‘I was hopeful, Agnes. I am hopeful. You won’t be Natan’s forever, Agnes.’

His words stopped me cold. A sudden dizziness spun through me. ‘What did you say?’

‘Don’t think we don’t know. Sigga, me, Fridrik. We all know. Everyone at Geitaskard. They knew you were sneaking off to the storeroom at night.’ He smirked.

‘If you spent less of your time spreading gossip, and more time spreading grass, we’d all be better off. Go do as you’re meant to, Daníel.’

His face screwed up in anger. ‘You think you’re better than us because you’ve found another farmer who lets you share his bed?’

‘Don’t be vulgar.’

‘Don’t be fooled. Just because you play at being a wife, does not make you a married woman, Agnes.’

‘I am his housemistress, that’s all.’

Daníel laughed. ‘Oh yes, his mistress, certainly.’

My temper broke then. I snatched the scythe from his hand and shoved it back into his chest. ‘And what are you, Daníel? A workman who speaks ill of his master? Who insults the woman he would like to claim as his own? You disgust me.’

Would I tell the Reverend this, if he were here? Perhaps he has drawn his own conclusions. Perhaps that is why he does not come.

I could tell him of another day, the day of the death waves. Sigga had sent me outside to fetch stones to mend the wall of the hearth, and it was while I was out there that I heard the splash of the oar against the water. It was a still day, the kind of day where the world is holding its breath. The sea was coiled.

Daníel and Natan had gone fishing, but it was too early in the morning for them to return. I could see Daníel rowing, and Natan sitting still and upright in the boat. As they came closer I could see that Natan’s face was set in a grim line, his hands clutching the wooden boat as though he were about to be sick.

As soon as they reached the shoreline, Natan threw himself out of the boat and began stomping through the shallows. He scuffed the shore with his boots so that pebbles flew in a spray about him.

I had been living with Natan long enough by then to know that nothing could assuage the black moods that overtook him, so when I saw him thunder up the beach, the water dripping from his clothes, I remained silent. He didn’t look at me as he passed, but marched towards the farm.

When Daníel had pulled the boat onto the shore, I walked down to ask him what had happened. Had they fought? Had they lost a net?

Daníel seemed amused at his master’s display of temper. He started to haul nets from the boat, and gave me some to carry back up to Illugastadir.

‘Natan thinks we were hit with death waves,’ he said. Salt clung to his beard. He said that he hadn’t pegged Natan for being such a superstitious bastard.

They had been dragging the nets when out of nowhere they were hit by three large waves. Daníel said they were lucky that the boat didn’t overturn. He had scrambled to save the line, and fortunately prevented it all from going overboard, but when he looked up Natan was white as a ghost. When Daníel asked him what the matter was, Natan looked at him as though he had lost his mind. ‘Those were death waves, Daníel.’

Daníel told Natan that death waves were an old wives’ tale, and he didn’t think a learned man like him would be fooled by such a thing. Then Daníel said Natan had snapped, grabbed him by the sleeve and told him that he wouldn’t be laughing when he was buried at the bottom of the ocean.

Daníel said that he’d thrown off Natan’s grip, and offered to bail the water the waves had brought into the boat, but that Natan had only said: ‘Damn you, Daníel. Do you think I’m going to sit here and wait for another wave to drown me? We’re going back.’

Daníel thought it wouldn’t be beyond Natan to drown him in a temper, just to show the truth of the superstition, so he rowed them to shore.

After Daníel had told me all of this, I decided to speak with Natan, even though Daníel told me to leave him be. He said that Natan had got it into his head that he was doomed, and that we should let him come to his senses in his own good time. But I followed Natan to the croft, where I found him shouting at Sigga. She was trying to undress him from his wet clothes, and the soaked shirt had caught about his face.