On the Cold Coasts

that’s how it is.” Thorkell walked away from her, sighing deeply. “Our paths will run alongside each other, no matter how we oppose the will of our creator.”
    She did not argue. She felt as though she knew nothing anymore, neither God’s will nor her own.
    “I will not go,” she said softly, and slipped through the door.

    He left without saying good-bye. I watched him go, looked out through the glass in the great hall at them riding down the valley, five together, each leading two horses and packhorses in a train. Gudrun stood on the front step with the girl bawling into her apron. Am I self-centered and cruel because I will not forgive? I look at them, poor and destitute, and feel angry and sad at the same time. Her belly is rapidly expanding. Damn him, that he will not take her with him! And yet I am relieved. And then once again doubtful. Should I have done what he asked of me? I cannot trust him. One moment he is loving and kind, the next wild and intense. The darkness in his eyes frightens me, as though it might swallow me up if I am not careful. It takes courage to love, he said. It is hard to be courageous when you know that no one can be trusted, least of all your loved one. No one but yourself, and perhaps the holy mother of God. It also takes courage to continue living as though nothing has changed when your lover has betrayed you, either with another person or by leaving. When all is said and done, there is not such a vast difference. Perhaps it is worse to see your loved one thirst for life every day while you would rather die from misery and grief but must go on living, if only for your child. And thereby die on the inside, again and again.

SIGNS FROM ABOVE
    Summer finally arrived at the outer edge of the world, and the cows were set free from the cowshed. They sprinted over the fields, wildly elated, bucking their behinds and mooing while they rolled in the dew. Nearly every day and night was warm and sunny. The sky over Skagafjord was bluer than in other parts of the world during those brilliant June nights. It was even warm when it rained, and you could almost hear the moist grass sprouting.
    The summer brought English ships, which fished off the coast. Icelanders who only owned small boats and bobbed around near the shore were stricken with envy as the English pulled cod in abundance from the sea and laid it in salt. They were still keen to buy stockfish, but they wanted to pay less than before. Consequently, men came to Holar with increasing frequency to air their disputes and complaints, and to ask His Grace John Williamsson Craxton to mediate. The proper course of action in such cases would have been to consult with the magistrate or lawman, but the bishop had a better way with the English and was moreover relatively fair—for an Englishman, at least. It also happened to be to his advantage to negotiate a decent price, for he also traded with his countrymen, buying from them malt and flour, honey and wax, and paying them in stockfish that the farmers paid to the see in the form of tithes.
    For this reason and others, there was a steady flow of people to Holar, usually Icelanders, but sometimes also foreigners, wealthy persons as well as charity recipients, traders, and farmers. There were fewer vagabonds than frequently in the past as there was work aplenty for all able-bodied persons, and the English were even beginning to hire Icelanders for work, much to the chagrin of the landowners. However, as usual there was a crowd gathered at the Feast of St. Olaf, at the beginning of the hay season, to receive the alms that on that day were distributed with more generosity than on regular days. The needy and poor took it upon themselves to travel a vast distance on foot; while they were there, they could pray to merciful Mary in the cathedral. They would ask Her to care for them a bit better that year, preferably better than last year, and would light a tallow candle in front of the gentle icon, the most beautiful in all of North Iceland, and even the entire country.
    Ragna was in charge of the handouts, the food stores and pantry being her responsibility. Having not been involved in this work in the past, it alarmed her to see how many needy there were, and how many of them were disabled from birth or due to illness. She found it hardest to see the lepers, for not only did they suffer from their disease, they were also outcast and condemned to be all alone until the bitter end, having no