Winter Song by Colin Harvey Page B

Samuelsson's neighbour accused him of allowing his sheep to stray into that man's grasslands, and the man was claiming compensation. Thordis-Maria Helgasdottir was accused of lewd behaviour in a public place, Ragnar suspected by someone whose amorous advances she'd rejected, and who now sought revenge. There were a number of disputes over late payment, of money, or much more commonly, of goods or services. Ragnar was asked to adjudicate each, and worked quickly and efficiently to effect a compromise. If he didn't give his petitioners good service, they could swear allegiance to another Gothi. With privilege came responsibility, he liked to tell his people.
        But though his duties ate up much of his time, he was still a farmer, even if sharing with two other farms gave greater efficiency, and he had two sons and a sonin-law and four Thralls out tending the livestock to ease his workload.
        So by midday each day Ragnar walked the fells, checking for signs of troll incursion, and the presence of snolfurs who might attack the flocks, and ensuring that the men were safe, if uncomfortable. With Isheimur's ever-changing weather came wave after wave of short, sharp showers that soaked them to the skin, barely giving their sheepskins time to dry out before the next band of rain swept over.
        Passing Skorravatn, Ragnar would often find Orn the Strong's wife Thorunn keeping Bjarney's wife Salbjerg company. Salbjerg was heavily pregnant, and not only found moving difficult, but Ragnar suspected that she might go into labour at any time.
        "Ladies," Ragnar said the day after Allman's relapse, bowing in an exaggerated way that set Salbjerg giggling. It didn't take much to make Salbjerg giggle. She was an uncomplicated woman who delighted in life, and it made Ragnar sad to see how near-constant pregnancy had worn her out. Cloning was an intensive arrangement and had been one of the first techniques to fail when the Formers had abandoned the colony. Worse, the near-disaster of a collapsing birth-rate for several years had scarred their society, leaving women as little more than baby-factories.
        Ragnar made himself abandon nostalgia. "How goes the egg-gathering?" He pointed to the flocks of eiderducks made flightless by their clipped wings now bobbing out on the waters.
        "Slowly," Thorunn said sourly.
        "I swear the little devils are getting cleverer at hiding their nests," Salli said with a giggle. "Perhaps we're breeding more intelligent eiders by eating the dumber ones."
        "Perhaps we are," Ragnar agreed with a grin. "Maybe we should test them before we wring their necks?"
        "How is the spaceman?" Thorunn asked.
        "Who says he's a spaceman?" Ragnar asked, no longer smiling.
        Thorunn shrugged. "Whatever he is, Bera seems happy, now she has someone to nurse."
        Ragnar didn't answer, but walked away. "Time for dinner," he called over his shoulder, belatedly remembering to say goodbye. Striding back to the courtyard, he saw Brynja again tied to the water-tap in the centre. The puppy yapped at him, but he ignored it, though he noted that it was bulking up, and he wondered what Bera was feeding it on. As long as it came out of her share of the food and she kept it out of his way, he wasn't too bothered.
        He descended into the lobby, and removed his boots.
        "Bera's obviously attracted to him," he heard Thorbjorg say, her voice arch. "Aren't you, Bera? Does he make your heart beat quicker, girl?"
        Bera muttered something which Ragnar couldn't make out.
        "Oh, really?" Asgerd said, sounding as if she were trying not to laugh.
        "What's amusing my daughters-in-law?" Ragnar said, as he entered the communal kitchen. Greeted by silence and a mix of sheepish looks, he sniffed at the aromas and tilted his head quizzically. "Horse? What's the occasion?"
        "Berti died last night," Hilda said. "We're pickling and freezing as