Burial Rites(84)

‘Fridrik!’ I called again. ‘What are you doing?’

He stopped and turned around. I saw him rub his face on his sleeve and he began to haul his boots through the heavy drifts towards me. As he came closer I saw that he was in a mood.

‘Hello, Agnes,’ he said, breathing heavily.

‘Why are you kicking that animal?’

Fridrik was panting. His breath issued from his mouth in a puff of fog. ‘It was already dead.’

‘But why were you kicking it?’

‘What does it matter?’ Fridrik squinted up at the heavy sky. ‘More snow’s coming, I’m thinking. Best not get caught in it.’ He sniffed and wiped his nose on his glove, leaving a shiny smear upon the wool.

‘Natan will kill you.’ I gestured towards the stain of blood and dirt surrounding the sheep. ‘You’ve ruined the meat. And the skin.’

Fridrik laughed. I wanted to slap him for kicking the sheep, but I had no power over him, and he knew it.

‘It was already dead, Agnes. It died this morning.’ He wiped a melting fleck of bloody snow from his cheek, and heaved his boot out of the drift to walk past me. ‘Don’t worry, it will still be good to eat.’

‘You’ve trampled it.’

He rolled his eyes.

‘You’ll catch your death,’ he called out, his back to me. I watched the snow clouds descend upon the mountain and let the chill air prickle at my ribs until I shuddered with the cold.

Seeing Fridrik hack at the sheep with his boots unsettled something within me. It was portentous: the rapid limbs, dark against the snow, colliding with the soft corpse until a fine mist of blood floated above.

Snow began to fall. I turned around to follow Fridrik back to the farm, and saw a raven descend upon the sheep. It gave a mournful caw and then plunged its beak into the innards. Snowflakes landed on its black feathers.

I interrupted Fridrik and Sigga sitting together on her bed, whispering in low voices. Sigga looked as though she had been crying.

‘There are two sheep missing,’ I said.

‘Well, one of them is dead. You saw it yourself.’ Fridrik yawned.

‘Not the one you were kicking. There are another two besides.’

Fridrik gave a nasty smile and I knew at once what had happened.

‘You killed them.’ Sigga let out a sob, and Fridrik stood up. He walked over to me and bent close. I could smell his sweat.

‘Agnes. You might like to know that Sigga and I have been talking this morning.’ His voice cracked with anger. ‘Natan has been taking advantage of her.’

I waited until I could speak calmly.

‘I already knew.’

Sigga burst into tears. ‘I’m sorry, Agnes! I wanted to tell you so bad!’

Fridrik paused. ‘You knew?’

‘I thought she’d agreed to it.’ My voice was brittle.

‘He’s been raping her!’ He began pacing the floor. I noticed that he held Sigga’s green silk nightdress in his hand, a present from Natan. ‘I’m going to kill him.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Go ahead. A lot of difference that will make now.’ I turned to Sigga. ‘Did he force you?’

‘Of course he forced her!’ Fridrik sat down again next to Sigga and punched the mattress. Sigga gave a start.

‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.

I thought back to the night I heard him moving inside her. The night after the death waves. The hurried breathing. A quick, light moan. There had not been a struggle.

‘It’s against God,’ Fridrik said.

I couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I don’t think any of this has much to do with God.’

Sigga looked panicked. ‘Agnes? Are you very disappointed in me?’

‘Why would I be disappointed?’ My voice was as smooth as the ocean.

Fridrik glared, looking down at the nightdress. ‘He’s a bastard. I’ll kill him.’

‘I don’t want Natan to die.’ The simper in Sigga’s voice made me want to slap her.

I laughed. ‘Fridrik’s not going to kill anyone.’

‘Yes I am.’ He stood up again, his hands in meaty fists.

‘No, you’re not,’ I said. ‘Anyway, what does it matter? You’re still going to marry her.’

Fridrik sneered. ‘I wouldn’t expect a woman like you to understand.’

I felt my mouth grow dry.

‘Sigga said Natan’s been having his way with you as well. Only we seem to think that you enjoy it a sight more than Sigga!’

I stepped towards Sigga and saw her flinch. ‘I’m not going to hit you,’ I said. But I could have. I wanted to.

Daníel came in and Fridrik fell quiet. I was shaking with anger. I hated Fridrik. I hated his pimpled skin, flushed red by the cold. Hated his blue eyes and their sticky rim of blond lashes. I hated his high voice, his smell of horseshit, his constant visits.

‘Go home, Fridrik.’ It was Daníel who spoke first.

‘There’s a snowstorm coming.’

‘Then go get caught in it.’ I was suddenly grateful for Daníel’s presence.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Fridrik said, and he sat down again next to Sigga, putting an arm around her protectively.