"Nicola Griffith - A Troll Story" - читать интересную книгу автора (Griffith Nicola)

And, indeed, the next morning Glam left with the sheep before Tors woke and did not come back until the evening fire was dying. And as the days passed, even Hjorda had to admit that Glam was a master of sheep herding: They seemed terrified of him, and all he had to do was call out in that terrible hoarse voice and they huddled at his direction. Days turned to weeks, and he lost never a single sheep. But not a man or woman or child would go near him, except as they must when he called for meat and drink, and even the dogs slunk away when they heard his tread.

Many weeks passed in this fashion and the days drew in upon themselves and the nights spread until even noon became just a thin, pale dream of daytime and nothing seemed real but the cold, the howling wind, and the red flickers of firelight. And still Glam called for his sheep in the dark of every morning and led them up into the hills to find grass, and every night he came back in the dark, face white as clabbered milk despite the cold.

Midvintersblot was a day sacred to Frey, when all the people of Torsgaard gathered to beg Frey to ensure fruitfulness for people and animals and crops during the coming year. It is a day of fasting until the evening feast, when holiday mead is brought out and the plumpest hog roasted, and the people feast by torchlight all night and donТt sleep until dawn. That midvintersblot, Glam rose as usual in the dark and called for bread and meat. The noise woke Kari, the eldest daughter. His shouting grew louderЧno one seemed to be attending himЧfollowed by a great thump as if he had sent a man flying with a casual blow with the back of his hand.

Kari rose from her bed. УToday is midvintersblot. We fast until the evening to honor the gods.Ф

Glam sneered. УI have never seen a god and I have never seen a troll. And who are you to say whether I should eat or drink? Now go get my food!Ф And he stepped aside so Kari could see the bondservant lying senseless by the cold hearth. Kari, frightened, brought his food. When he stepped out into the dark, shouting in that horrible voice for his sheep, she went to her mother and spoke of what had happened.

Hjorda saw to the bondservant, then sought Tors and told him of events. УGlam must be paid off and turned out, husband.Ф

УBut what of the sheep, wife? Besides, the man was probably just hungry.Ф

УThe servantТs cheek is broken, and he is only now recovering his wits. He would have done thesame to Kari, had she not obeyed.Ф

УNonsense. No doubt the girl misunderstood, frightened by his loud voice.Ф He turned back to the warmth of his wolfskin coverlet and slept. He didnТt hear the rising note of the north wind, the first flurries of driving snow. He didnТt hear Glam roaring above the wind for his sheep, the shouts getting fainter and fainter and farther off. By the time he rose, Glam could not be heard and the snow was settling in fat white folds on sills and stoops. The hours slipped by, with all the servants and the women of the house working over spits and ovens and Tors working over his tally sticks. The flurries became a blizzard and the dairymaid, when she went to milk the cows, could not see her hand before her face.

The scents from the kitchen grew more delicious, the wind climbed to a high-pitched howl. The trenchers were laid on the board, and still Glam did not return. The hired men and several male servants came to Hjorda. УItТs cruel outside, but if you asked we would venture into the cold and dark and wind, as some misfortune might have befallen Glam.Ф

УNo, no,Ф said Hjorda, thinking quickly. УGlam is strong and wily. No doubt he can look after himself, and the sheep have fine wool coats. See that you donТt bother Tors with this.Ф

УCertainly not, mistress,Ф they said, knowing full well that Tors might take them up on their offerЧand the bondservant with the addled wits and broken cheek being a friend of theirs.

And so the feast was laid out and eaten without Glam, and not a soul missed him until it was long past midnight and Tors asked, УBut where is our winter shepherd?Ф By this time, the snow lay hip deep and the wind was cold enough to freeze peopleТs breath in their throat, turn their eyeballs to ice, and crack open their very bones. Tors declared no man could step forth and live, so they turned their back to the door and drank barrel after barrel of ale, cask after cask of mead, and sang loudly enough to drown out the terrible noises and deep vibrations that rolled down the fjellЧthough Lisbet, the youngest daughter, who had fallen asleep on a bearskin after her third horn of mead, had strange and awful dreams of dark shapes battling on snow. Not long before dawn, sodden with celebration, they slept.

They woke after noon. Headaches and guilt are fine partners, so Tors did not have to urge the men to put on their boots and fur capes and caps and set off up the mountain. The pale winter Sun shone brilliant on the new-fallen snow and the air lay still. Snow crunched and one of the hired men could be heard groaning softly to himself every time his boots thumped down. They walked and walked, and eventually they heard the faint bleat of a sheep, and suddenly sheep were all around them; some nothing more than frozen woolly mounds in the snow, some bleating pitifully, some standing lost on crags or caught in bushes. Past the sheep they found a place where great boulders and trees had been torn from the ground and the snow beaten down in some mortal struggle. They walked faster now, and found a bloody, leveled place where Glam lay on his back, his strange seaweed eyes open to the sky and covered in snow, which did not melt. His skin was mottled and bloated, as though he had been dead a long, long time. Huge tracks, the size of barrel hoops, filled with frozen blood, led off to a deep and narrow gully. Something had fallen and splashed bloodЧhogsheads of the stuffЧall about, but there were no more tracks so the men could not follow. The hired man stopped groaning long enough to peer into the gully, look at the blood, and say, УNothing, not even a troll, could have survived that.Ф There was general agreement, and the hired men and bondservants returned to GlamТs body.

The bolder among them tried to move him, but it was as if his bones had turned to stone and he would not shift. Nor could they close his eyes. They herded up the sheep and returned to Torsgaard. УGlam is dead,Ф they said to Tors. УHe killed the troll and most of the sheep are living. We tried to bring him down but his body is strangely heavy.Ф

УWell, take a yoke of oxen up the mountain and drag him down if necessary,Ф said Tors. УWe must bring him back to the hov for a proper send off.Ф

УNo,Ф said Hjorda, Уtake faggots and tallow to the gully and burn him there, like carrion.Ф

УYes,Ф said Kari.

УYes,Ф piped up Lisbet, whose dreams still hung about her.

УNo,Ф said Tors, and the men tried not to sigh. They took the oxen up the mountain, and some rope, but even with the oxen GlamТs body, black as Hel now and bloated as a bladder, would not move even along level ground. After hours of this, with his men surly and tired and his own fingers and toes going white with cold, Tors unyoked the oxen. УHe seems to want to stay here, so let him. We will cover him with stones.Ф

So it was done, and they walked back to the women and a warm hearth.

Three days later, Lisbet woke in the middle of the night and ran to her mother. УGlam walks in my dreams!Ф Hjorda cuddled her close and they both fell back to sleep. They were awakened in the morning by a shriek from the dairymaid, who had opened the door and tripped over a dogЧor what was left of a dogЧon the stoop. Later that morning, the haunch of mutton on the spit was found to be green and black on one side, and the servant who tended the ovens was clean out of her wits: УGlam came down the chimney, Glam came down the chimney, Glam came down the chimney,Ф was all she could say, over and over.

Glam did not lie easy in his grave. He came again, and again, and again, driving more people mad, sending one hired manЧwho had taken the sheep outЧheadlong down the fjell, falling and breaking his neck, and the dairymaid running away to another farm, snow or no snow.

Hjorda found Tors. УYou must burn him, husband.Ф

But upon toiling up the mountain with faggots and tallow, and heaving aside the stones, they found nothing. When he returned, Tors told this to his wife, who nodded. УThe troll lives in his bones and walks abroad wearing his skin, even under the Sun.Ф