couple of hours concocting fabulous stories. Emer became in turn a princess, a witch, a fairy lost in mortal realms or a dragon in disguise. Once she pretended to be the goddess Freyja, come to earth for purposes of her own. By the time their imagination ran out, the garment was finished and a few others as well. Freydis held their work out to Kolla, who took it and examined the stitching closely.
“You sew well,” she said to Emer, approval in her voice, “for all your tongue wags at the same time. Go and eat now but come back afterwards. I have other work for you to do. Freydis, you need not return. Attend to your other duties.”
Freydis grimaced but did not argue . They went to the cooking place where both girls made a hearty meal.
“Tell me about Kolla,” Emer said while they were eating.
“Her husband, Knut, designs the ships we make here. Her son , Njall works on them. He’s so handsome. His brother commands another trading vessel of Atli’s and is often away.”
“ Kolla seems to be in charge of the women, not Drifa.”
“She is , when Drifa isn’t around. Even then, Drifa only pretends to give the orders. Really she leaves it to Kolla. Kolla’s efficient and knows what has to be done and how to do it. Drifa’s lazy, so she doesn’t bother much. She’s always been like that, ever since Atli brought her here from Myl after his first wife, Mabil, died. Hari was only a little boy then. Kolla is his great-aunt, so she looked after him and Yngvarr, Atli’s eldest son who had an accident and drowned. Drifa threw her weight around when she arrived and made some changes, just so everyone knew how important she was. She’s too idle to keep it up, though, and everything slipped back into place soon enough. She’s still like that. How Kolla puts up with her I can’t imagine.”
They finished their meal and Emer returned to the other women. Kolla gave her a pile of sewing which kept her occupied for the rest of the day. Rolf did not return. It was late the following morning when she saw him striding into the longhouse, carrying another sack.
“Come,” he said to her. “Atli wants us both.”
He led her to the small hut they had used before and he put his sack onto the table. Atli was already there. Rolf opened the sack and removed several covered beakers.
“Is that what you wanted?” he asked.
“It is.” Emer looked at Atli, sudden fear in her eyes.
“Do you need anything else?” Atli seemed excited.
“A bowl and a stone like those we use for grinding corn. Somewhere to work where no one will see me and, when I am done, a fire and a place to lie beside it.”
“Why do you want no one to watch?” Rolf asked and she saw a gleam in his eye. She suddenly knew that Rolf would try to stay with her and spoke quickly to kill the notion.
“My mother said that this magic is dangerous for those who don ’t share our blood. People might try to copy me and be lost.”
“Lost, how?” Rolf asked.
“They may die from the fumes or never wake again , although their body lives on.”
“But you are immune?” There was an echo of disbelief in Rolf’s voice.
“I ’m not sure. I’ve never tried such a thing before, but I know how to do it and I intend to try.”
She looked questioningly at Atli who nodded. “You can work in here for now. I will make sure that you are not disturbed. Afterwards, we have a hut which is empty. I will have a fire lighted in it for you. You can go there when you are finished. Is there anything else?”
“Someone to check on me , once the fire burns down and the fumes lessen.”
“Send a message to me when you are ready to start and we will look at you regularly. Come Rolf.”
Once they had gone, Emer sat down hard on one of the stools. She was shaking, her hands and also her legs. Her breath hissed through her teeth in short gasps. What had she done? Perhaps she would never see tomorrow’s dawn or live but never wake again to the living world. The picture of
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