Free West of the Moon by Katherine Langrish Page B

into a little pool. They had kilted up their skirts and trodden the clothes down till their legs were blue and aching. Bringing the dripping load back to the farm they found that Eirik, sitting outside the door in the sunshine, had nodded off. Unwatched, Sigurd and Sigrid had taken it into their heads to try riding the cow. They had untied her picket rope, scrambled on her bony back and allowed her to amble down the steep little valley where the wild garlic grew. She had gorged herself on the pungent leaves and flowers.
    â€œThe milk will taste of garlic for a week!” Gudrun scolded.
    â€œWe can make cheese,” suggested Hilde. “Ma, you need a rest. Let me get the children out of your way. We’ll take the pony and go down to the fjord, and you can sit in the sun and spin.”
    â€œThat would be lovely,” Gudrun agreed thankfully.
    As Hilde led the pony downhill through the wood, the white trunks of the birch trees shone as if newly scoured and the brook flashed in the sunlight. Sigrid sang one song, Hilde another. Sigurd pounded the pony with his heels to make it trot. On leaving the woods the path slanted across the fields to the wooden bridge. The mill was working, clattering busily, and Hilde looked eagerly for Peer.
    As it happened, Peer saw her first. He was cleaning the pigsty, a lean-to shed at the back of the mill on the other side of the millpond. Stripped to the waist, his ragged trousers rolled up, Peer shovelled out mud and smelly straw and cabbage stalks, while Bristles the boar basked against the wall, his hairy sides heaving. Resting for a moment to wipe sweat from his eyes, Peer saw Hilde and the children coming out of the woods. He almost ducked out of sight. Why did Hilde always have to see him this way, covered in dirt? But there were things he needed to tell her. He climbed out of the sty and waved.
    Hilde waved back. “Hello! We’re going to the sea. Want to come?”
    To the sea! Suddenly Peer didn’t care what his uncles did or said. A sunny afternoon with Hilde would be worth almost anything that could happen afterwards. He threw down his shovel. “I’ll catch you up,” he called, and Loki, who had been lying in gloomy boredom with his nose between his paws, jumped up wagging his tail.
    Peer ran around the back of the barn, skirting a bank of green stinging nettles, and crept through the bushes till he was out of sight of the mill. He emerged on the path breathless, and fell into step with Hilde.
    â€œGood for you!” she greeted him. “I hope you won’t get into trouble.”
    â€œOh, I will,” said Peer grimly. His face hardened. “I just don’t care any more.”
    Hilde glanced at him. He was burned brown from working in the sun with his shirt off. He was covered with mud, and his trousers were nothing but rags. He looked thinner, taller and older. And Loki’s coat was rough, and his ribs showed.
    â€œOh!” she said, shocked.
    Peer scowled, as though daring her to comment. “Loki doesn’t get enough to eat,” he said curtly. “Grendel gets it all.”
    Hilde took the hint and changed the subject. “Meet the mischief-makers,” she said cheerfully. “My little brother Sigurd and my little sister Sigrid. Say hello to him, brats!”
    â€œHello,” said Peer, smiling. The two little children looked very alike, with pale fair hair and blue eyes. “Are you twins, by any chance?”
    They nodded. “But I came first,” boasted Sigrid. “So Sigurd has to do what I say!”
    â€œI do not!” Sigurd pulled her hair. They fell off the pony and wrestled in the road. Hilde and Peer dragged them apart. “Behave!” Hilde threatened. “Or Peer won’t come with us.”
    â€œNo, I’m coming all right,” said Peer. “I want to swim.”
    Trollsvik was tiny compared to Hammerhaven, just seven or eight houses with streams of white