On the Cold Coasts

sighed. “It’s strong, and salty, too, but it seems to help. It’s made from some kind of powder from foreign plants, ground up with nigella seeds and liquor.”
    It took Ragna a moment to comprehend her mother’s words. She sat next to her on the bed and tried to collect her thoughts. Anger, happiness, sadness, surprise—all swirled inside her and she could not tell them apart. Her mother was dying and about to leave her orphaned and alone in the world; Thorkell was healed from his wounds and currently here at Akrar, seeking the support of her people against the English. She looked at Sigridur, who was leaning backward against the feather pillows, her eyes closed, evidently exhausted. How much did she know? Had she heard about the battle in Adaldalur? Surely Thorsteinn would have spared her news that might cause her anxiety and agitation; after all, she had enough on her mind. Moreover, he had always been a reticent man and self-directed in most things, not feeling a need to consult with his wife, even though all of his possessions were hers, and hers his. He was not likely to ask her advice on matters of business or politics at this time, any more than he had in the past.
    “Gudbjartur and his son Thorkell wanted Thorleiksstadur, which I inherited from my parents, but Thorsteinn refused.” Sigridur spoke without opening her eyes, almost as if she had read her daughter’s mind. “He felt you had brought such shame upon us that you had lost your claim to that fine property. And I was so gutless that I let him decide,” she said softly. Ragna said nothing, just stared straight ahead, her silence fraught with accusation.
    Sigridur opened her eyes and looked at her daughter, sad and desolate. “A woman must surrender to her husband and strive to please him, according to the apostle Paul.”
    “That’s what they say.” Abrupt agreement, full of bitterness. No hint of forgiveness in her voice. How different things might have been if her mother had had the courage to side with her daughter instead of Thorsteinn. Was it not a mother’s duty to put love for her child, her own flesh and blood, before everything else—even her desire to please her husband? And yet it was rarely so. Still, why cry about things that couldn’t be changed, especially at a time like this? Ragna felt ashamed of having such ugly thoughts at her mother’s deathbed. After all, the list of her own sins was already more than full.
    The silence between them was becoming oppressive.
    Finally, in a weak voice, Sigridur asked about her grandson. “How does my sweet Michael like Holar, Ragna?”
    Ragna had left Michael at a nearby farm, despite his protestations. The bishop’s remark that children were the first to die from the pox had alarmed her. But she did not mention that reason to her mother, only said that he’d wanted to see his friend at Grund after a lengthy absence. The Akrar residents apparently had not heard about the outbreak of pox on the West Fjords, and at this stage it was just as well that her mother not find out.
    “The clerics say he has a good aptitude for learning and is bright, but they feel that he has a bit of a wild temper.” Ragna ran her thumb along her chin as she often did when deep in thought. “I have heard the other schoolboys call him a Skraeling, and they exclude him from their games,” she added brusquely. “It upsets him, though he does not speak to me about it.”
    “Have you told him the story of the seal woman?” Sigridur asked and raised herself up in bed with difficulty, gasping with pain at every movement.
    Ragna arranged her mother’s pillows and pulled the duvet over her. “I can hardly remember that story well enough to tell it,” she said. “It’s been so long since grandmother told it to me. I was only a wee girl then, and she recited so many strange tales and sang such odd songs.”
    “Your father’s people have passed the story of the seal woman down through the generations for more than a century. It must not be forgotten,” Sigridur said in a warning tone. “We must respect our family stories and pass them on so that they are not lost.”
    “Tell me now,” said Ragna gently, relieved that their conversation had taken a different turn. “Tell me about the seal woman, and I shall tell Michael and later his children.”
    “You sound just as you did when you were small and wanted your way. You always thought you’d better be able to get it if you spoke gently.” Her