we could own as ours, no place to raise a family in peace, no tomb to bury our parents in that would not be desecrated. Even that little strip of land that we might call our grave, our resting place, was not permitted to us. There was no river of blue ice waiting for me, calling for me to return to it.
Heidrun took my hand and gently pulled me round to face the calm, dark lake.
‘I am not like Fannar and Eydis. I am their friend, but not of their people. They call me a huldukona, a hid-woman. We live among them, but we are not of them. We too were once driven out of our homes. But we still keep our own ways. We teach our children the lore which our mothers taught us and their mothers taught them since first this land was made. We do not forget who we were and who we are, and we will remember it for ever. I see it in you. You are like us. You must remain hidden. You must appear to be as one with the people you live among. But you are not. Learn the old ways of your people as we do in secret, teach them to your children, tell them who they were and make them remember. Your home is in your lore. As long as you remember the old ways and teach them, within that knowledge you will always find the place where you belong.’
‘But I don’t understand why you must remain hidden,’ I said. ‘Are you afraid of the Danes?’
She smiled sadly. ‘I am afraid of nothing, except forgetting. Come.’
She walked ahead of us, leading us back to the cooking fire which still glowed on the rock. She retrieved a withy basket which she had tucked into the shelter of the rocks. She opened it and pulled out two live birds about the size of a bantam hen, with dark strips over their eyes. The backs of the birds were grey-brown mottled with white and the belly and flanks were white. They lay quietly in her hands, their big brown eyes staring up at us.
‘These are ptarmigan.’
‘So that’s what they look like,’ I said. ‘They say there are great flocks of them in these mountains, but I haven’t seen a single one.’
‘You’ve seen many,’ Heidrun said. ‘But you haven’t known it. When the snows come they’ll turn white. A hillside may be covered with them, but they will not be seen. In summer they are the colour of the rocks and grey mountain grass. In autumn they look like rocks with a little frost upon them, as they do now.’
Marcos eyed them hungrily. ‘Do they make good eating?’
Heidrun laughed. ‘Yes, excellent, but I am afraid they will not be filling your belly. These are needed for hungrier beaks.’
She handed the birds to me and I held them, one under each arm, their wings pressed closed so that they could not struggle. Their bodies were warm and my fingers sank into the soft feathers. Beneath the skin I could feel their tiny hearts beating fast.
She nodded towards the basket. ‘You will find soft leather in there to fashion into jesses and lines. You know how to snare a falcon, Isabela?’
‘If we ever find one. I don’t know where to look. Eydis promised me that she would help me catch the falcons. She swore … and I believed her. I thought that was where she was leading us. But now …’
‘She will keep her promise,’ Heidrun said calmly. ‘Trust her in death as you did in life. Remember, the ptarmigan and the white falcon are sisters. Where one goes the other will always follow. Now I must leave you. Stay here until you have what you seek. You have a fire to warm you. There are fish in the lake and water in the streams. There is nothing more you need.’
Her smile was gentle as she turned and walked away. I was sure I’d seen her before, not just in the cave, but somewhere else. I suddenly realized I had not thanked her and called after her. She raised one hand in acknowledgement that she had heard me. She did not look back. We watched the tall figure stride across the plain until our eyes lost sight of her, dazzled by the sun.
Marcos stirred up the little fire, rubbing his hands, and eyed the two birds. ‘What are you going to do with them? Wring their necks