Cold Earth, page 15
Nina’s tent stayed closed while the rest of us ate crackers, dried fruit from a packet and cold water for breakfast.
‘So what’s with this boat?’ I asked. The water was so cold it hurt to swallow. I remembered the sour coffee in Barnes and Noble with forgiveness.
Yianni looked round at Nina’s tent.
‘Later,’ he said, swallowing crackers. ‘Let’s get to work. I can’t believe we’ve wasted so long.’
The waste, in my view, was spending the night ghost-busting on the beach. I took another mouthful of water and dusted the crumbs from my parka. I remembered something.
‘Ben, did you wake me in the night? Something about someone at the pit?’
‘No.’ He didn’t look up.
‘No?’
‘There was someone at the pit?’ asked Yianni, cracker frozen in transit to his mouth.
‘No,’ said Ben.
‘No?’
‘No.’
‘All right,’ said Yianni. ‘Come on. Let’s get going.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Back to the grave?’
Yianni glanced towards the pink tent again and frowned.
‘Yeah. Careful, but quick. We’re running out of time here.’
‘I know the date, Yianni.’ I stood up. ‘You get anywhere with the computer?’
He and Jim exchanged glances.
‘No.’
I could hear one of the tarps rattling and flapping in the wind before I got to the site. Yianni and Jim had not weighted them as carefully as I would have done, and one had blown loose in the night. As I reached the graveside, it came free and plastered itself to the side, banging against my legs. I pulled it up and fought until it was bundled up. Then I looked down to see the prints of bare feet where the skeletons had been.
‘Hey!’ I shouted. ‘Yianni? Nina’s been up here again.’
‘What?’
‘Nina’s been trampling the burials. Get her up here!’
‘What?’
I ran further down the hill. ‘Come here!’
He came. ‘What?’
‘Footprints over the burials. Nina’s been mucking about again.’
He looked at me. ‘I don’t think so, Ruth. She was on the beach with us.’
‘Come and see. Someone’s been down there.’
We climbed back up and looked down. The footprints circled the places where the bones had lain.
‘Yeah,’ he said. He spoke to the indentations. ‘Someone’s been here all right. But it’s someone with bigger feet than Nina.’
I climbed down and set my foot next to one of the clearer prints. I take a size 9. Nina’s a good three inches shorter than I am, and these bare feet were longer than my boots.
‘Ben? He said he’d been up here, I’m sure he did.’
Yianni still didn’t look at my face. ‘When?’
‘In the night. Full darkness. I’d been asleep. I wasn’t really awake. He said something about someone at the burial site.’
‘I’ll go talk to him,’ he said. ‘But Ruth? Don’t tell Catriona. She’s getting a little freaked out.’
I stood up and went over to him. ‘Tell me what happened last night.’
He sighed, still looking at the prints, and then met my eyes. ‘All right.’
He sat down on the edge of the pit. I stood in front of him.
‘Tell me.’
He began to kick his feet, and then stopped. He rubbed dead grass between his fingers.
‘We got down there. Nina was standing on a rock, pointing. Very wet, by then. And Ruth, they were right. There were lights.’
‘Moonlight.’
‘In that rain?’
‘Fishing boats. Secret NATO stealth ships. Russian nuclear submarines. Jesus, Yianni, you don’t need supernatural explanations for ships in the night.’
‘Then a boat came.’
‘What kind of boat?’
He looked up again.
‘An empty one. Wooden. Maybe two metres long.’
‘Came where?’
‘Oh, just drifting. Someone lost a dinghy, probably. But Nina started screaming. She said there were cowled men with no faces in it. Coming for the dead. Catriona got so scared she – she wet herself. She thought we didn’t see, in the rain, but we did.’
‘I take it there were no faceless men?’
Yianni dropped the crushed grass into the grave. ‘No. But there was a boat.’
‘Hm. Where is it now?’
He shrugged. ‘Go look. We left it there. No one wanted to touch it.’
He stood up. ‘I’ll go ask Ben. What he saw.’
He shambled away, avoiding my gaze. Dear Lord, they all believe it. I’m stuck for the next week in West Greenland with a bunch of people in the grip of group hysteria, and we need to finish excavating a mass grave. What have I done? I waited a moment, looking down towards the beach, half-hoping to see the boat so I could join in. There was nothing, of course. I picked up my trowel and began to work on the next burial, keeping well away from the footprints.
I began to dig around the string outline of soil changes, which suggested that the person was tall and lying straight. I couldn’t help noticing, close up, that there were a couple of handprints as well, big open hands with the palms pressed down hard. I faced in towards the corner and went on digging.
‘Hey, Ruth.’
I looked up. Jim, seen from below, looks preternaturally tall.
‘Yianni says someone’s been up here?’
‘Look.’ I pointed to the prints. He whistled.
‘Nina didn’t do that.’
‘No,’ I said. I knelt down again. ‘But somebody did.’
He climbed in and squatted. ‘And the hands.’ He held his own over them. ‘Same size as mine, give or take. I suppose that exonerates you girls.’
I looked at his hands and the prints. They were about the same size. I looked at his boots.
‘It’s not really a matter of exoneration, I guess. As long as there’s no damage. We’ve all been in here, if someone wants to walk around barefoot at night it’s not wrong.’
God knows I’ve done stranger things. He was still holding his hand over the print.
‘It wasn’t me, Ruth.’
‘OK.’
I went on digging.
‘You want to see my feet?’
On a list of things I want to see, Jim’s feet would be low.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Are you working up here?’
‘Why would I want to come up here and walk around barefoot? Anyway, it was raining, remember? I wouldn’t expose the site.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Though the rain stopped, sometime in the night. Or I guess the footprints wouldn’t be so clear.’
He put his hand down and stared at the footprints.
‘I hadn’t thought of that. Rain hasn’t fallen on these, has it? Where were the tarps?’
‘One blew off as I came up. Can’t have been very well weighted. By whoever it was.’
‘Me and Yianni, yesterday. But someone else since.’
I shifted round and began to work along the further side.
‘Yianni or Ben, since you say it’s not you.’
‘Yeah. Well, let’s not get personal, huh? No harm done.’
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I don’t mind. You going to get your tools?’
He climbed out and then looked back.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘Nothing. Back in a minute.’
I was coming back round to where I’d started, leaving a coffin-shaped channel along one side of the pit, when Ben appeared. He, at least, was carrying his kit.
‘Seems you were right,’ I said.
‘About what?’
‘When you said you’d seen someone. What made you look, by the way?’
‘I didn’t say I’d seen someone. You were dreaming.’
‘Oh, I dream, all right. But not about you. You woke me up and said you’d been up here and seen someone crouching by the pit.’
‘I didn’t, Ruth. I slept from when we talked until you woke me this morning. If you thought someone was talking to you in the night it wasn’t me.’
I looked at him. He looked back, eyes wide, shoulders held high. I looked at his feet, and at the prints. He’s a small guy, no taller than me, but his hands are big.
‘You think I came up here in the night and took my shoes off and walked on the graves? Ruth, I’m not mad.’
‘Someone is,’ I said. ‘Well, two someones. Nina and someone with bigger feet than Nina.’
‘Yeah.’ He turned and looked down towards the sea. ‘Either that or there’s another possibility. There’s someone else here. Someone we don’t know about.’
Cold slithered down my back. ‘That’s ridiculous. How could anyone be here without us knowing? It’s open hillside. Not to mention there’s no food.’
‘There’s food in the stores tent. We all think we’ve heard someone moving around at night. There are big rocks, anyway. And none of us have even looked in the next valley – there could be troglodytes in caves there for all we know.’
‘Troglodyte caves that feature on no maps with no fires and no animals and nothing coming or going. Anyway, has any food gone missing?’
He shrugged. ‘We haven’t been counting, have we? Maybe we will now.’
‘Maybe we’ll just decide there’s no reason people can’t walk about barefoot if they want to. As long as they don’t damage the finds.’
He dropped his tools and vaulted down.
‘It wasn’t me, Ruth. And I wasn’t talking to you in the night.’
Ben and I had started the brushwork by the time the others appeared.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ said Catriona. ‘Nina’s up. She says she’ll make lunch.’
She didn’t look like someone who’d wet herself with fear the night before.
‘You’re chipper,’ said Jim.
‘Nina seems better. I think she’s relieved we’ve all seen the boat.’
‘I haven’t,’ I said. ‘And I gather no one else saw the faceless pirates?’
They all looked at each other.
‘The boat was weird,’ said Jim.
‘And has it gone now?’
Yianni bowed his head. ‘Drifted away, I guess. The tide’s out,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Well. Shall we get on with the dig, then? At least this light should charge up the computer.’
But we had barely allocated tasks when dogs began to bark.
‘What the –?’ said Ben.
‘Dogs, I should say,’ I said.
We looked at each other, dropped our tools and climbed out. Two men on horses came along the shore, with three dogs slinking at their heels. The sheep began to swirl in panic.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Yianni.
Nina appeared from the stores tent – a thought about missing food flitted through my mind – took one look and crawled into her tent.
‘Oh,’ said Catriona. ‘They’re wearing jeans.’
‘They’re probably listening to iPods,’ I said. ‘Did you think they were Viking visitors?’
One of the men whistled and a dog streaked across the field to where a handful of sheep were running away from the bleating herd.
‘Shepherds,’ said Yianni. ‘They must be taking in the sheep. I guess winter’s coming.’
‘Should we go down?’ asked Jim. ‘Seems kind of unfriendly to ignore them.’
Yianni looked around and sighed. ‘Not everyone. There’s too much to do. Anyone speak any Danish?’
‘Nina speaks German,’ said Catriona. ‘But I bet even shepherds in Greenland have a bit of English.’
I thought about James, sitting up late watching travel shows about Amazonian tribes and Himalayan villages and then flying to Tokyo to spend three days at a bank and go straight back to the office from the airport. He’d have loved real Greenlandic shepherds on horseback.
‘I’ll go,’ I said. ‘I used to get by in Dutch. When we were in Amsterdam. But they will speak English.’
‘Me too,’ said Jim. ‘I want to meet them.’
‘OK,’ said Yianni. ‘Give them coffee. Ben, Catriona, you OK to stay here?’
‘I suppose so,’ said Ben. ‘We’ve started so late, better get something done.’
‘Just tell me if they know any news,’ said Catriona. ‘Anything about the plague.’
Jim and I went down the hill.
‘Dutch?’ he asked.
‘I lived a few months in Amsterdam. You don’t really need Dutch but it’s better to pick up a bit.’
‘I envy you. I lived in the same town my parents grew up in until I went to college.’
I kicked a stone, which rolled and bounced towards the tents, stopping against Nina’s.
‘I’d rather my kids had one home,’ I said. My kids. Not James’s kids.
Nina peered round her tent.
‘Something –’ she called.
‘It was a stone,’ I said. ‘A loose stone. Can you get the kettle on? We’re making coffee for the shepherds.’
She peered the other way. ‘I’m scared of dogs.’
‘The dogs are busy,’ said Jim. ‘They won’t hurt you.’
‘And if they really wanted to hurt you, a tent wouldn’t offer much protection,’ I pointed out.
Her shoulders emerged. The shepherds had stopped by the river while the dogs gathered the sheep into a corner. Jim waved to them and one of them raised a hand.
‘Hello,’ called the man.
Jim and I went down to them. They swung off their horses as we approached. Short men, Greenlanders, wearing jeans and knitted hats like Catriona’s.
‘Good morning,’ said the other man. Dutch, I saw, was not required.
‘Good morning,’ said Jim. ‘Can we offer you coffee?’
They bowed and nodded. ‘Thank you. You are digging here? Digging the Vikings?’
‘Yes,’ said Jim. ‘Just the farm and the chapel.’
‘Ya,’ said the first man. ‘They farm like us, hey?’
‘We think their sheep stayed out through the winter,’ said Jim. ‘But it was warmer then.’
‘And maybe again. Short snows, last year. Global warming. Soon we grow fruit, hey? Apples and pears?’
He sounded as if Greenlandic farmers might be holding climate change food festivals in the near future.
‘But you are not staying the winter?’ asked the other man, rubbing his hands. ‘In these camps?’
Jim shook his head. ‘One more week. We have a lot to do. Would you like to come up? My colleague is making coffee.’
The men spoke to each other, a language apparently without consonants, and then attached the horses to each other and called to the dogs, which crept around marshalling sheep.
‘A few moments. The sheep don’t wait.’
We walked back up. Nina had the stove going and was moving around sideways, facing the dogs.
‘Candy?’ asked the smaller man, pulling a bag from his pocket.
I took one and unwrapped it. It looked and smelt like bubblegum. He offered the bag around and Nina declined. People like her shouldn’t be allowed out of Islington, or wherever it is she lives. Her hands shook as she poured water into the granules.
‘It’s not good coffee,’ she said, passing them each a cup.
They each took a mouthful and bowed again. ‘Is very good.
Thank you. Your digging is good?’
‘We’ve found lots of bodies,’ said Jim. ‘Skeletons. Looks like there was a fight.’
‘Vikings fighting?’
‘Fighting someone,’ said Jim. ‘We don’t know yet.’
‘Vikings were good fighters.’
‘Yes,’ said Jim. ‘Though they seem to have lost this one.’
We all sipped coffee. I wondered whether Greenlanders share the European liking for milk.
‘You heard the news?’ asked the taller shepherd.
‘No,’ said Jim. ‘Our computer isn’t working. What news?’
‘There is the sickness.’
‘What, here?’ Nina spilt half her coffee over her boots. Plague comes to Greenland.
‘No,’ said the man. ‘Not Greenland. But Denmark, now. England. America, of course. All Europe, now.’
Nina put her cup down. Her face looked grey.
‘Is it bad, in London? Are lots of people dead?’
The man reached out and patted her shoulder.
‘You have family there, I think. Perhaps not so bad. We hear the Parliament is closed? But not so bad. Just a – precaution. Not so many dead.’
Nina turned away and crawled back into her tent. We could see her rocking backwards and forwards inside it.
‘She’s not well,’ I said. ‘Please excuse her.’
The man frowned. ‘There is bad news. It will be a strange going home for you.’
‘It’s a strange staying here,’ I muttered.
Jim cleared his throat. ‘And in America? In the Midwest?’
The men glanced at each other.
‘There are dead, we hear. It is not good news. You are better here.’
They got to their feet and put their cups down.
‘Thank you. Thank you for coffee. You need anything? We can take any messages? We have a computer at home, three days from here. E-mail. Not working last week, but my wife is mending it.’
‘Not for me,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’
Jim hesitated. ‘You could send an e-mail for me?’
‘Of course.’
‘Wait a minute.’
He pulled out his notebook, wrote and tore out the page.
‘Tell my parents Jim is OK? And I can’t wait to see them?’
The smaller man read the address. ‘Please to write the message. Speaking English easier than writing.’
He took the sheet back and scribbled. ‘Ruth? Not even to your family?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘They know where I am. As our friend says, we’re safe here.’
