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On the Cold Coasts

On the Cold Coasts

Titel: On the Cold Coasts Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Vilborg Davidsdottir
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The grass in the fields belonging to your father’s people has always been more verdant than in other fields, and cod bite on all of their hooks, even when the next fjord is empty of fish. Most of your great-grandmother’s descendants have had that same facial appearance that people here find dark and ugly. But in Hvalseyjarfjord, people know the truth, and they consider it auspicious to have the same countenance as the seal woman. You must tell Michael this and teach him to be proud of who he is, different from the rest. Unique.”
    Sigridur whispered the last words with anguish. Clearly the pain was engulfing her once more and she could barely stifle her moans. She reached for the medicine flask and took a swig of the infusion.
    “Go now, dearest Ragna. Go and leave me be,” she said in a tormented voice, waving a hand at her daughter. “I must rest.”
    Ragna remained sitting on the bed. She did not want to go into the great hall and have to face Thorkell—not yet. She needed time to think, and anyway, she felt she should stay by her mother’s side now, when there was no escaping the pain. And yet, she was afraid.
    “Wouldn’t you like me to stay a while longer?” she said and put her hand around Sigridur’s clenched fist. Her mother’s palms had deep red marks where the fingernails had dug in. “Let me sing for you, dearest Mamma…”
    Softly she began to sing, the same incomprehensible words that her mother had sung before: “ Qa-vam-mut kak-kak qii-ma-naq qa-vam-mut…”
    Sigridur’s eyes were shrouded in pain. She turned away, tormented, and howled into her pillow, stuffing a corner into her mouth to stifle the sound. Ragna kept singing, filled with dread at her mother’s howling, wanting above all else to run away. Almost inadvertently she removed her shoes and slipped into bed with her mother, placing her body in a spoon position with her arm across the older woman, warming her whole body with hers. Perhaps Sigridur had not had the resolve to stand by her daughter the way mothers should, even when they risk their husband’s disapproval, yet Ragna owed her her life. The very least she could do to thank her mother was to ease her death throes, even if just a little.
    Much later, Sigridur’s howls of pain subsided and they both fell into a slumber, the older woman first. Ragna listened to her ragged breathing deepen and thought about this woman who had become a stranger to her, a woman that she had nonetheless known longer than anyone else. But then, who can ever truly know their own mother?
    In the shadows, over by the wall, the angel of death awaited.

    Ragna was roused by voices near the door. She did not know how long she had slept. It felt to her like only a short while, but she could see that the tallow candle in the wall candle holder had nearly burned down. She heard her foster-father’s voice, and then Thorsteinn entered the room. She placed a finger on her lips to silence him, but to no avail: her mother was already awake. Quickly she brushed the strands of hair away from her face and greeted her husband. He kissed her, then kissed Ragna on both cheeks. His thick beard was soft to the touch. Thorsteinn was a few winters older than his wife, and his reddish complexion exuded energy even though his dark hair and beard were streaked with silver. Sigridur’s pallid face appeared even more ghostlike to Ragna, now that she saw them next to each other.
    Thorsteinn sat down in a chair opposite the bed, crossed his arms, and looked at them inquisitively.
    “So, Ragna, how do you feel about the move to Greenland?”
    She was startled. “Move to Greenland?” she asked, surprised. “What do you mean?”
    “We have not discussed the letter, Thorsteinn,” Sigridur said feebly. “I couldn’t; it was too soon.”
    “What letter?” Ragna asked warily. “From whom?”
    “The Christopher of Hull arrived from Greenland a week ago,” Thorsteinn answered. “With the ship came a letter from your people in Hvalseyjarfjord—your aunt Thorhildur and her husband Sigurdur. They have managed our holdings there since we left for Iceland.”
    “ Your holdings, Ragna,” Sigridur corrected him with an apologetic glance. “Hvalsey will be yours when I have passed, with all its assets and properties.”
    “The land belongs to all of us, though it is yours by virtue of inheritance, as you are Gauti’s only surviving child,” said Thorsteinn drily. “Let us not forget that it is I who has made

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