On the Cold Coasts

shortage was such that even criminals who had completed their sentences could have their pick of employment.
    “The lawman would do me a great favor and I would be deeply indebted if he would lend me a housekeeper. Providing, of course, that the young lady is in agreement,” he said and extended his hands with palms raised, pleading and humble, the great man of God.

    A housekeeper at Holar in Hjaltadalur Valley. Managing other servants. Overseeing the bishop’s feasts. Being somebody. Is this for real? All eyes are on me. Yes! Say yes! Release me from this place. No sound escaped my lips. Only an innocuous smile, an amiable manner. All on the surface.
    My stepfather looks to my mother; a slight nod in agreement. It could be useful for him to have me at Holar. It is a sure way to gain reliable news, quickly. And the bishop would be in their debt. Yes, why not?
    But what of my Michael? Will Thorkell make him pay for his mother’s sins?
    Men devise their schemes. They hold all the power. Women simply obey.

THE SERVANT GIRL AND THE BUTLER
    Holar.
    At first Ragna could not so much as look at the great cathedral without being consumed by the humiliation she had been made to suffer there a decade earlier. It still stung. The Holar site was expansive and incorporated many buildings, most of them tall and made of fine wood. Over everything towered St. Mary’s Cathedral with its great timber walls and roof made of tin, the tall bell tower always in one’s line of vision, no matter how one tried to avoid it. Looks of condemnation wherever she went. Not that anyone said anything.
    Thankfully she had little time to wallow in angst. There was much to be done, as the servants had taken the utmost advantage of a prior lack of discipline. She soon came to understand that it did not serve her well to complain to the bishop about them, for he used the rod unsparingly, and this fortified any opposition against him. The seeds of that opposition had first been sown when he drove away the officialis in spiritualibus , the vicar Father Jon Palsson, who was renowned for his poetry written to glorify the Holy Mary. Jon was generally popular and now held a post at Grenjadarstadur in Thingeyjarsysla district.
    Thus Ragna tried to tread a fine line; she rewarded those who were obedient and cut the food rations of the rebellious, told on no one and spoke ill of no one, sewed in the weaving hall with the women, and even took it upon herself to perform the household duties, time permitting. The priests and deacons were her superiors, the servants her inferiors. Here, as elsewhere, she stood alone.
    Michael was contented, at least he suggested as much when she asked, and the rector, Father Kari, praised his aptitude for learning. For the first time ever they slept in separate quarters, she in a chamber separated with panels from the women’s hall, he with the other schoolboys. Sometimes they did not see each other for days, save for briefly during morning mass.
    Thorkell was one of the teachers, along with other, more learned priests on the site. He lectured the schoolboys on the various things he had learned during his studies abroad. Ragna found this both strange and ironic. She would never have imagined that it would come to this—that he, of all people, would end up instructing her son. It felt as if his gaze was permanently fixed on her when she served at the bishop’s high table, and it made her uncomfortable. She tried looking away until she ran out of patience and gave him a sharp look back, only to become flustered once more, for he had a tendency then to send her a familiar smile, like an old friend who knew her better than she knew herself. For whatever reason, she felt his magnetic pull and was drawn to him like a moth to a flame; she felt the heat on her wings and knew that, sooner rather than later, something would happen.
    No words passed between them until one day when he sent instructions for her to speak to him in the great hall where he kept the bishop’s books. That same morning the servant girl Brynhildur had been brought in, who had fled from service earlier that fall to the home of her parents. The girl had refused to speak to a soul, but when Ragna confronted her in private, she revealed through gritted teeth that Thorlakur the butler had his hands on her constantly, and when she refused do his bidding, he had violated her, and she wished him dead and herself, too, if she was forced to remain at Holar. Ragna