On the Cold Coasts

Englishman.

    Immediately on his arrival in Iceland, it became evident that John Craxton did not lag behind his countrymen when it came to trade. He produced a signed permit from King Henry V authorizing him to import flour and malt and to send his ship back to England loaded with stockfish from the Holar stores. Before long the bishop had taken full control of Holar. He began putting in order various matters that had been allowed to slip in the years when the diocese had been without a bishop and was governed by leaders of varying competence in both worldly and spiritual affairs. He made a point of having good relations with anyone who mattered. That summer he paid visits to chieftains throughout North Iceland and was generous with the malt. In other words, he was a clever ruler and a lackey to no man. One by one he dismissed those men who had been appointed during the reign of his Danish predecessor, whom he considered to be a little too partial to King Eric and at the same time opposed to the influx of the English. That included Father Jon Palsson, who had made no secret of his loyalty toward the archbishop in Nidaros and, indeed, had visited him there several years earlier. No one could therefore doubt that beneath the bishop’s adornments beat an English heart, despite Craxton’s maternal lineage being Nordic.
    The bishop rode into the farmyard at Akrar with a dozen men on a calm fall day, shortly after the slaughter season. The sky was nearly clear, though spotted with wispy white clouds, the sun hanging low in the sky. It was cold and the shoes of the horses clattered on the frozen ground. The general appearance of the entourage suggested that a person of influence was among them. The men were well attired, their capes and hats trimmed with fur, their boots high on the leg, and their tight hose colorful. They had English ale to drink, spoke loudly, and laughed easily. The bishop presented the lawman with a keg of hops as a gift, to have mead brewed for his church. After mass they sat down to a feast where food and drink were presented in abundance. The mistress and her two daughters served at the high table; maidservants waited on those of lower rank.
    Thus Ragna could not escape the looks of her former betrothed, Thorkell Gudbjartsson, yet this time she did not flinch and returned his gaze, seemingly without fear, though her heart was beating wildly in her chest. His dusky blue eyes studied her, cold at first, but his gaze seemed to grow softer when she did not look away, changing from arrogance to something like curiosity. She poured drinks for him and served his food, smiling and warm, unlike herself, making her movements intentionally fluid so that her body would reflect the softness within. She would not allow Thorkell to see her bitter and harsh from his betrayal; instead, she would make him regret his rejection and long for that which was no longer available to him.
    His Grace the bishop also kept her within his line of vision, kind and polite, thanking her for all the food that she served them, holding forth at length about the Icelanders’ hospitality and generosity. He spoke frequently of the school at Holar that he planned to resurrect and where he intended to teach the sons of chieftains. A rector had already been appointed, and a number of boys fourteen and fifteen winters old were already on site, but there was still room for more, and what did the lawman think about sending the boy Michael to be educated at Holar, for his own benefit and as an example to others?
    Thorsteinn thought it over. “That is indeed a generous offer, but the boy is a mere eleven winters old,” he finally replied, “three to four winters younger than the other lads in the school. Is that not a bit too young, his precociousness notwithstanding?”
    “His mother could accompany him,” suggested Bishop Craxton, coming now to his real business with the lawman. The Holar bishopric, he said, had long suffered from the absence of a capable woman to set things in order and to supervise the female servants. The butler supervised the pantry and kitchen, but he could not fully manage things in the hall. Moreover, a servant had recently absconded from service after accusing the butler of harsh treatment. He was therefore in a tight spot, since there was a lack of servants in the country following the great plague, which had wiped out a large portion of the nation a mere two and a half decades earlier. Indeed, the labor