On the Cold Coasts

of more value to those who sail the open seas than all other things: the astrolabe, a disc-shaped wonder made of brass that showed the position of a ship out at sea even when there was no land in sight. It was not very large, with a diameter of just seven inches, but it was relatively heavy and had an adjustable dial that was set according to the position of the sun at noon, or the North Star at midnight. The face had an imprint of symbols signifying the planets in the sky and rings that showed their movements according to the seasons. The boy examined the disc from all sides, beside himself with admiration, and in no time he had made sense of how it worked and learned to use the relevant terminology, in both Nordic and English.
    Klaengur the Red smiled at Michael’s enthusiasm and remarked to the lawman that it might be a good idea to take the boy along on the next voyage; it might cool his sailor’s blood to have to wrangle with the rough seas off Greenland. Thorsteinn thought it not such a bad idea, but he made no reply. The shame that Ragna had brought upon the family a decade earlier was no longer his greatest concern, even though that humiliation was by no means forgotten, neither by himself nor his adversaries in the ever-hardening battle over wealth and trade in North Iceland.
    The leader of that faction was now Thorkell Gudbjartsson, who following the termination of his betrothal to Ragna had voyaged to France where he had studied theology for three winters. He was evidently just as partial to temporal as to spiritual riches, and he had not entirely rejected the pleasures of the flesh despite his newly taken vows, for there were rumors of yet another bastard child in addition to the two he was to have fathered prior to his overseas sojourn. And now this man, whom Thorsteinn had once intended to make a part of his family, had become steward, officialis in temporalibus , at Holar. That made him next in line to Father Jon Palsson, who had been officialis in spiritual matters at the bishopric for years, a deputy and executor of power in the absence of the newly appointed bishop, who was still abroad. These hieratic rulers had terminated all agreements with the lawman concerning the sale of stockfish for Holar and its properties. Instead, Thorkell was now responsible for all trade and collecting of tolls and tithes for the diocese, and he showed no leniency to those who were tardy with their payments. It was a mystery to the lawman how Thorkell had come so far in such a short time, being barely thirty winters old. Power and wealth were drawn to him like flies to a flame. The rumors were probably true: that he had learned a thing or two at the Black School of the Dark Arts—that served him well, and not only in the clergy.

    What a miserable fool I was to think that Thorkell would forgive my youth, to hope he would rush the wedding for my sake and take the child as his own. Instead, he chose to humiliate me. He had a choice—but what choice did I have? None. I was forced to prostrate myself on the cold stone floor in Holar cathedral in front of the commoners and my own people, the priest and bishop, and disgrace myself, crying out for forgiveness for a sin that I scarcely understood until long after it was committed. Such an innocent I was. Until that day I was led to believe that I was worth something, that I had rights, and that I was allowed hopes and dreams. But not since. Even my mother, who protected and defended me at the outset, has grown distant and is gradually disappearing into Thorsteinn’s shadow.
    My stepfather prefers to keep the land intact, here as in Greenland, since the tenants pay the rent in the increasingly valuable stockfish. Would that be the reason that I am still here at home, unmarried, while my sister Kristin has been given to a man in marriage? Are my people aware that my life is in danger if I give birth to another child? Would the midwife speak of such a thing? Hardly.
    How long did I entertain hope, foolish child that I was, that my Michael would return and take me away on his ship to a foreign land, where there were castles and other adventures to behold, another life where I could stand tall and look people in the eye. I had to have hope. I allowed them to bend me, but not to break me.
    Despite all this, I am aware that my life is better in many ways than that of others who have succumbed to the same sin: lust for a man who is not their husband. I have heard of women who have