Troll Mill. Katherine Langrish

fell into the sea,” said Peer. He buried his face in his hands while they all gasped, then looked up again with miserable eyes. “At least…that’s not true. She ran into it. I couldn’t stop her. Bjørn went after her. Gudrun, I think that baby’s terribly cold!”

      Gudrun, Hilde and Ralf looked at one another.

      “First things first,” said Gudrun, becoming practical. “Peer, take off those wet things. Sigrid will bring you some hot stew. Hilde, warm a blanket. Let me take a look at this child.” She sat down by the fire and laid the baby on her knee, gently unwrapping and chafing the mottled little arms and legs.

      “Poor little thing,” she said softly. “Dear me, it must be weeks since Kersten had her. I’ve been meaning to get down and see her. But there’s always something else to do. There–there, now!” She turned the baby over and rubbed the narrow back. “Do you know her name, Peer?”

      “I didn’t even know she was a girl.” Peer was struggling into a dry jerkin. His head came out, tousled. “Is she–is she all right?” He came over and stared down at the baby in silence for a while. “She looks like a little frog,” he said at last.

      “She is rather cold, but she’ll be all right.” Gudrun swaddled the baby in the warm shawl that Hilde brought. “Now she’s warming up, I’ll try and feed her.”

      “Will you, Gudrun?” Tears sprang into Peer’s eyes, and he turned away. “I think she is hungry. She was chewing my collar bone half the way home,” he said over his shoulder.

      Hilde laughed at him shakily. “That wouldn’t do her much good!”

      They all stood round, staring at Gudrun as she held the baby, rocking gently. Even the twins were silent, one leaning each side of their mother. The baby’s dark hair fluffed up as it dried, and she nuzzled into Gudrun’s breast, sucking strongly and blinking upwards with vague, bright eyes.

      Ralf blew his nose. “Now–Peer. Tell us what happened!”

      “We were down on the shore. I was going to stay with Bjørn, because of the rain. Bjørn gave me a fish to take up to Kersten–we were going to have it for supper. Then—” Peer broke off, trying to make sense of his memories. “Kersten came running down through the sand dunes. It was pouring with rain. She ran smack into me! She had the baby. She said…I can’t remember exactly what, but she pushed the baby at me and told me to take it to you, Gudrun. She said, “Is Gudrun still giving suck?” And then she ran past me and down the shingle. I shouted for Bjørn, but—”

      He stopped again. “She was wearing this big fur cloak,” he whispered. “Before Bjørn could get to her, she’d thrown herself into the sea.”

      Gudrun’s eyes were bright with tears.

      “She’s gone back to the sea,” she said softly. “Do you remember, Ralf, how they all said Bjørn’s bride was a seal woman?”

      Ralf’s head jerked up. “Nonsense!” He punched his fist into his palm. “Utter nonsense. I’ve never believed it, and I never shall.”

      “Don’t you see?” Gudrun persisted. “That fur cloak will have been her sealskin.”

      “Explain,” demanded Hilde.

      Gudrun went on talking quietly, almost singing, crooning over the baby. “It’s the grey seals I’m talking about. They can be seals in the water but people on land, shedding their skins like fur cloaks. If a man meets a seal woman while she’s in her mortal shape and he hides her sealskin, he has power over her. Then she must marry him and bear his children. But if ever she finds her sealskin again, then woe betide! She’ll return to the sea and break his heart.”

      Hilde was horrified. “Did Bjørn do that to Kersten?”

      “No, he did not,” said Ralf angrily. “Don’t fill their heads with this nonsense, Gudrun. Kersten and Bjørn were an ordinary loving couple.”

      “Then why did she throw herself into the sea?” asked Hilde. She leaned forward, touching Peer’s hand. “What happened, Peer? What happened to Kersten?”

      But Peer was no longer certain what he remembered. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, pressing till coloured lights danced on the darkness. “I don’t know,” he groaned. “She seemed to roll into the sea. The waves broke over her and she disappeared. It was getting dark, and I was yards away. I thought…I don’t know what I thought. I thought she’d drown.”

      “What did Bjørn do?” Sigrid asked in a small voice.

      Peer put an arm around her. “He went after her, Siggy. He jumped in the boat and went rowing out…”

      “Will he find her?” Sigrid’s eyes were round and scared. “Will he?”

      Ralf stood. He paced up and down, shaking his head. “I can’t bear to think of it!” he exclaimed. “I ought to go down there now–see if there’s anything I can do. Didn’t you raise the alarm, Peer? Bjørn needs help!”

      Peer went a painful red. “I—” he stammered. “I never thought of it! I’m sorry! I just–I only–I wanted to bring the baby home!”

      Hilde rolled her eyes. “You’d better get down there straight away, Pa!” she said.

      “I will.” Ralf was already pulling on his boots. “Now, don’t worry, Gudrun–but I won’t be back tonight. I’ll get some of the men together–we’ll comb the shore. If Bjørn hasn’t found her, we’ll search again when it’s light.”

      “I’ll come!” Peer got up, staggering slightly.

      “No, you stay and rest,” said Ralf kindly. “You did the best you could, Peer. You can join the search tomorrow. Right–I’m off!”The door slammed behind him.

      Hilde puffed out her cheeks and sat down. “How awful.”

      “Why didn’t I tell everyone?” Peer beat his forehead with the heel of his hand. “How could I be so stupid? I even saw Einar, and I dodged him because I was too embarrassed to explain…”

      Hilde patted his shoulder. “You’re hopeless, Peer,” she said affectionately. “But listen! You brought the baby safely home.”

      Peer caught her hand, but she drew it away. Gudrun looked up, closing her dress and tucking the shawl more tightly around the baby.

      “There, she’s had enough now. She’s falling asleep. Peer, don’t upset yourself. Ralf has rushed off like this because he can’t bear sitting still, but really there’s nothing useful anyone can do till daybreak. Now eat your stew before it goes cold. Hilde, get the twins to bed. We’ll put this little one in the cradle with Eirik.”

      “Can I?” Sigrid asked, stretching her arms out.

      “Yes, but be careful,” said Gudrun, handing her over. Sigrid grappled the bundle of shawl and baby with exaggerated care. “She’s sweet. I wish I had a little sister.” She lowered her into the wide cradle. “I’ll put her on her side. Isn’t she tiny? Doesn’t Eirik look big beside her?”

      Peer came to look over her shoulder. The two babies lay side by side, a complete contrast to one another. Eirik’s fair skin and rosy cheeks made the new baby look brown and sallow. Her thin little wrists looked delicate and fragile compared with Eirik’s sturdy dimpled arms.

      “Is she sickly?” asked Hilde dubiously.

      “No, no,” said Gudrun. “She’s much younger, that’s all. Hardly three months old, when I come to think. I wish now I’d visited Kersten. ‘Never put things off’, as my mother used to say. But I’ve been so busy, and little Eirik is such a handful.”

      “Well, he’s in for a surprise when he wakes up tomorrow,” said Hilde. “Twins! Bedtime!” She chased them under the blankets, but Sigrid stuck her head out to call, “I like the new baby,