The Falcons of Fire and Ice - By Karen Maitland Page 0,200

like an empty purse defeat me.

There might not be any diamonds in those mountains, and I certainly wasn’t stupid enough to go back into any of those caves to find out, but this mummy was proving to be a profitable little venture. Of course, I’d have to find more dead seals and other villages and towns to sell it in. Keep moving, that was the secret, never stay long enough for them to find out it didn’t work. But then, who knows, maybe my powder would cure them as well as the real thing. If people believed in something strongly enough, miracles had been known to happen. Wasn’t that what the priests called faith? And the more people paid for something, the more faith they had in it. The Icelanders were as poor as corpses in a common grave, but there had to be some wealthy Danish widows around somewhere, and stuck on this island they must be starving for the company of a charming man who knew how to woo a lady. Who knows, they might even consider taking another husband.

I stared down into the clear green water. A naked woman was floating just beneath the surface. Her brown skin was soft and smooth. Her raven hair fanned out all around her, undulating in the waves. An amulet in the form of a single blue eye lay between her firm, round breasts which shamelessly thrust up through the ripples at me. She was smiling, her full lips parted in lustful desire, her arms held wide to embrace me. She wanted me to come to her, to lie with her in the cold, lonely depths. Silvia wanted her revenge.

I kissed my fingers to her. ‘Not yet, my sweet Silvia. Not yet. Patience was never one of your virtues. One day you’ll take me down there with you, and you’ll torment me for all eternity in death just as you did in life. I will pay the price for you eventually, but I’m not ready to surrender to you yet, my beauty. Haven’t I always said, life is a tree laden with sweet, ripe peaches for those who know how to pluck them. And I have many more juicy peaches yet to steal, my darling, a great many more.’

Eydis

Sails – the wings of a falcon.

Isabela stands beside the rail staring at the coast slipping by, as the fragile ship weaves around the murderous rocks. She sees the towering rivers of ice inching towards the crashing waves of the shore. She sees the deep blue water surge around the barren cliffs and break on the black sand. She sees waterfalls thundering down in rainbow sprays and a thousand birds ebbing and flowing like the tides.

Soon the ship will break from the shore and there will be nothing to watch but the sea. She will mark the passage of each day and night, desperate for the ship to sail faster, frightened that she will not reach home in time or at all. A thousand anxieties swarm through her head. Can she keep the birds alive? Will she find a ship in Antwerp? Does her father still live? Will they keep their promise and release him, or will they simply take her too?

Her fingers stray to the lucet around her neck. She rubs the horn against her cheek, comforted by its cool smoothness. One day, she will begin to fashion a new cord with it. She will remember that she can call the dead. She will always fear death, but not the dead. They are her friends now and they will surround her. She will draw them to her with the cord and they will come to her. The dead can never be lost to her. The grandmother and the child, Hinrik and Jorge, Valdis and me, we all travel with her, and when the time comes to face the evil she will know we will all stand with her – the door-doom of the dead.

The black thread of death to call us from our graves.

The green thread of spring to give her hope.

The red thread of blood to lend her our strength.

Rowan, protect her.

Fern, defend her.

Salt, now bind us to her!

Historical Notes

Portugal

In 1492, Jews fleeing from the Inquisition in Spain were allowed to settle in Portugal on payment of eight crusados. The Jews were considered vital for trade and industry in the expanding Portuguese empire. But when, in 1497, King Manoel I of Portugal married the daughter of the Spanish king, his new