The Unbroken Line of the Moon

by Hildebrandt, Johanne

  “That’s not true,” Sigrid said, looking puzzled. “Father said we sail in three days.”

  Emma smiled wryly but said no more. They knew nothing of what was to come. They were blind, like newborn kittens.

  The door to the building where Sigrid was staying was open and several men sat in the dining room, drinking mead. Their laughter echoed between the walls. Sigrid stopped at the threshold, still sad about Sweyn even though she should be singing with joy.

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Sigrid said. “But now I have to rest.” With a brief nod, she left them and entered the hall.

  Emma turned to Beyla and said, “I’ll meet you by Toste’s ship.”

  The seeress gave her an uncertain look and pulled Emma in close.

  “What craziness is this?” Beyla said. “I can’t go anywhere away from my brother.”

  Emma shrugged. That didn’t matter. She didn’t need a seeress, not now that she had Sigrid.

  “Then our paths diverge,” Emma said indifferently and slipped into the hall.

  The men were all very drunk. Emma watched Sigrid walk across the rough plank floor with a glance at her relatives and the strangers who were variously fondling, kissing, and drinking. Several men sat with women on their laps while others snored loudly on the sleeping benches.

  “Where have you been, daughter?” Toste yelled angrily. He sat with a buxom woman on his knee with his hand up her skirt.

  “I made a sacrifice, the way you’re supposed to on this night,” Sigrid retorted.

  “By yourself?”

  She shook her head and said, “Beyla was with me.”

  “I was there, too,” Emma said, stepping out of the shadows.

  Toste grunted. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy in his drunkenness, and his beard wet with spilled ale.

  “I never should have let you run around on your own. People are talking about you and the girls coming to the executions dressed as sacrificial priestesses. People have been heard plotting evil against you and now you’ve gone and defied the king by offering a sacrifice.”

  “The king may reign, but my faith is my own,” Sigrid said, smiling, and walked proudly to her room.

  She was truly worthy of the fate the Norns had woven for her. Emma’s bosom swelled with pride and love. Toste muttered something about his daughter being far too impertinent for her own good. Then he looked at Emma.

  “Well, what do we have here?” he said.

  Emma walked over to Sigrid’s father while the woman sitting on his lap glared at her.

  “I have a gift for you,” Emma said so warmly that Toste sent the buxom woman off to fetch some more mead.

  When the woman got up, Emma took her place on Toste’s lap. She nuzzled into him as the chieftain got his tankard filled. She realized she knew the truth about Toste, the whole truth. Palna had explained before he sent her to speak to him. At the time, she didn’t think much about what he said.

  “Olav’s people ended up in a fight with the Obotrites down at the harbor,” one of the Svea said.

  Toste laughed.

  “I had better luck with my men last night,” he said.

  A woman sitting with the Svea recounted how angry the king had been because he hadn’t managed to sleep with his mistresses and how he tried to get the priests to bless his manhood. While the woman spoke, Emma rested her head on Toste’s shoulder and played with his beard. She twisted it around her fingers and inhaled his scent. Toste’s rough hand wandered up her thigh.

  “What is this present you wanted to give me?” he said in a low voice, moving his hand all the way up to her crotch.

  Emma moved as one of his fingers penetrated her and leaned closer to him, so close that her lips grazed his ear.

  “Palna would like you to come to his hearth immediately,” she whispered, so quietly that no one else would hear.

  “Whatever it is can wait,” Toste said.

  Emma bit her lip as his finger pushed deeper into her.

  “At the spring sacrifice, King Harald is going to send the Jómsvíkings to fight with Styrbjörn for the throne of Svealand. Your old pal Palna is now your enemy and your daughter is in danger.”

  Toste let go of her as fast as if she were a glowing cinder. His bloodshot eyes widened and filled with disbelief.

  “Palna would never do that,” Toste exclaimed.

  “What I say is true,” Emma whispered, carefully hiding her satisfaction. “Palna told me that tonight when I shared his bed.”

  That was only a small lie, but it worked.

  “I don’t believe a word. Your snake’s tongue can’t sow dissention between me and my brothers-in-arms.”

  “I swear in the name of your guardian spirit that I am telling you the truth. Ask Palna, he is waiting at his hearth.”

  Toste stood up so fast that Emma almost fell on the floor. He grabbed her hand so hard it hurt.

  “If you’re lying, I’ll send you to the afterworld.”

  “You will soon realize that I never lie,” Emma said, shaking her head.

  Someday the truth would catch up with Skagul Toste.

  He had had her. Sweyn closed his fingers around the leather pouch, and Sigrid was with him again in all her resplendence. The most beautiful woman in the nine worlds performed the sacrifice with him, and Thor himself had granted him his strength. Sweyn smiled at the strange pleasure that sped through his body.

  She said he could never be wounded in battle.

  Harald had given him ships during the summer festival. The most transcendently breathtaking woman had offered the sacrifice with him. Sweyn took a deep breath, his strength growing. Only now did he appreciate the great fate the gods had in store for him. Loveliest Sigrid, dís of the dísir, nothing could compare to her pure beauty and strength.

  He stopped on the outskirts of the camp. His brothers-in-arms snored loudly beside their now-cool fire pits. Only one fire still burned.

  Palna sat there by the hearth, staring into the flames, brooding. Sweyn really didn’t want to talk to him. Palna was very perceptive. He would surely notice right away that something had happened. But when Sweyn sat down, his foster father didn’t even look up. Melancholy weighed on Palna’s shoulders like a cape, and his eyes were locked on the dancing flames.

  “You shouldn’t have let your brother drink himself senseless,” Palna said.

  Sweyn looked at Åke, who had passed out drunk on his skin rug.

  “He went off on his own,” Sweyn said.

  Palna grunted in dissatisfaction. He was quick to anger tonight, which meant nothing would go well, no matter what Sweyn said. Sweyn had received far too many beatings during Palna’s bad moods. It would be better to wait until tomorrow.

  “Only a man without honor lets down his brother-in-arms,” Palna said.

  Sweyn stared hard at the fire.

  “Sometimes a man has no choice,” he finally responded.

  The fire crackled quietly. A few men were just going to bed, their noisy laughter growing quiet.

  “All the same, wicked deeds must be atoned for,” Palna said and then sighed heavily. “King Harald made me swear to fight with Styrbjörn the Strong, so you won’t be going north alone.”

  “I’m glad,” Sweyn said, shooting a questioning glance at his foster father. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on what.

  “I’m sure Harald is going to take Jómsborg from me after we’ve fought in Svealand, in revenge for my sticking to the old ways and for my bringing you to his court.”

  Sweyn was surprised. Without Palna, Jómsborg wouldn’t be the sharp spear that had brought silver and victories to the king of the Jellings. Yet now the king thought he could just toss Palna aside like a worn-out shoe.

  “The brothers will stand by your side,” Sweyn said.

  “We will be good to our word and fight in Svealand,” Palna said. “After that, with the help of your battle wolves you will conquer King Harald’s jarls one by one, until you’ve brought that dr
agon to his knees.”

  They eyed each other grimly.

  “I’m ready,” Sweyn said. Never in his life had he been so sure of anything. He would fight Harald and win, and Sigrid would be his queen.

  They heard voices from the outskirts of the camp. Sweyn’s heart stopped in his chest when he saw Toste approaching with Sigrid at his side. What in Balder’s name did this mean? Why was Toste coming to see him? Had Toste heard about the sacrifice and come now to demand payment for his daughter’s honor? If he knew, he would consider her to have been violated before her wedding.

  Sweyn got up, his sword in his hand, and watched the two walk through the camp. Sigrid was his, having offered the sacrifice to the gods for him. He would fight for her honor and his own until the gods sent him to the afterworld.

  “Relax,” said Palna, who was still sitting calmly.

  When Toste got close enough, Sweyn realized that it wasn’t Sigrid at his side but Emma. He slowly exhaled. Emma’s blond hair must have played a trick on him in the darkness of the summer night. Even though they were similar, the castratrix could in no way compare to the beautiful Sigrid.

  Had she told Toste about their encounter? Damn it. Sweyn was still standing with his sword in hand when Toste reached their hearth.

  “Is she telling the truth?” Toste asked, pointing at Emma. He was drunk, the smell of mead very evident.

  “She is,” said Palna.

  “Have you turned your back on me and become my enemy?” Toste said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Sweyn gripped his sword tightly. Every muscle in his body was tense and ready for an attack.

  “This was not my choice. Nor did I want it to be this way,” Palna replied with a heavy sigh. “If I didn’t promise Harald my sword, he swore Jómsborg would burn. I cannot stand up to the king alone. You’d have made the same choice.”

  Sweyn slowly lowered his weapon. They were talking about the coming war against Svealand, not his encounter under the oak.

  “What you say is true,” Toste said, scratching his beard thoughtfully as his rage evaporated.

  “We each have to stand on our own side of this. Still, I honored our friendship by sending the girl to fetch you,” Palna said. Only now did he get up and stand face-to-face with Toste, his longtime battle ally. “Now I will tell you the rest. King Harald and Styrbjörn are planning to take your daughter captive tomorrow. You must leave Lejre tonight.”

  “I have fought for Harald since we were lads,” Toste said, looking incredulous. “I wear his oath ring. It’s hard to believe he would take my daughter captive and draw arms against me.”

  Light and shadow fell over the aging warriors’ faces as they looked grimly into each other’s eyes.

  “Nothing is the way it usually is in King Harald’s court,” Palna replied. “The battles we fought for him are long forgotten. We’re hired hands from the past, condemned to be driven away.”

  “Now I know for sure that the pact with the Svea was meet and just,” Toste said, slowly stroking his beard. “It hurts me that we’re not on the same side of this, my friend, but your warning is honorable.”

  “I’m bound by the oath I swore to join the battle in Svealand, but it is the last time my sword will serve Harald,” Palna said. “I hope a more honorable king will take Harald’s place on the throne of the Jellings.”

  Palna glanced over at Sweyn, his foster son.

  “I wish you all success. Soon we will drink mead again together, in Jómsborg or in Valhalla,” Toste said, putting his hand on Palna’s shoulder.

  They nodded solemnly to one another before Toste swiftly left the Jómsvíking camp. Sweyn hoped Toste and his crew would escape Styrbjörn’s men, because if Sigrid were taken captive Sweyn would not be able to sit quietly by.

  “Will they make it out in time?” Sweyn asked.

  “Toste hasn’t unloaded his ships,” Palna said. “They can easily be out on the sound before daybreak.”

  Sweyn swallowed his concern and said simply, “It was honorable of you to warn them, Father.”

  “Twice Toste has saved my life. It was time I repaid him.”

  Palna turned to Emma, who was still standing, hesitant and listening, a short distance from them. He said, “You did that well, even if you took your time.”

  Emma padded up to Palna, got up on her tiptoes, and kissed him on the mouth.

  “Good-bye,” she said and then turned to Sweyn. “I will watch over your Sigrid until the next time we meet, king of the Danes.” Then she ran off between the tents and sleeping warriors.

  Sweyn closed his eyes and cursed Emma the castrator. He should have realized she couldn’t be trusted.

  “Toste’s daughter is yours?” Palna asked.

  Sweyn grimaced. He couldn’t remain silent about what had happened, and lying was against the Jómsvíking code. The scars on his back were evidence of that.

  Sweyn grasped the leather pouch he was wearing around his neck and looked his father in the eyes like a man.

  “This night Sigrid served as my priestess during the sacrifice. Thor and Freya blessed us. I am going to be victorious in the battle.”

  Anger and surprise came over Palna’s face.

  “I told you to stay away from Toste’s daughter, and yet you defy your father and chieftain.” His voice was a low growl. Sweyn gritted his teeth. No amount of trouble could make him wish the whole thing away.

  “Yes, and she gave herself to me,” he added.

  The blow came so fast that Sweyn didn’t have time to duck. A sharp smack on his cheek, and he practically fell over backward. When he regained his footing, he looked his father in the eye, ready for the next blow.

  His whole life he had quietly taken the beatings he had coming to him. But not for this, not after what had happened. Sweyn grabbed Palna’s hand in midair and held it still without breaking eye contact.

  “I’ll take the whipping you promised I’d get if I went near her, but I will not be slapped around like a kid.”

  He could see Palna’s surprise, but only for an instant before he struck Sweyn in the mouth with his left hand and then got in a kick to the stomach. Sweyn was ready for him. He twisted free and caught his father’s other hand. Palna couldn’t writhe himself free, although he tried his best.

  “Let me take my punishment like a man, not like a son,” Sweyn said, his heart pounding like a drumbeat in his chest.

  The noise woke the other Jómsvíkings, and half-asleep, they watched what was happening. Gunnar came out of the tent and asked why Palna was beating Sweyn.

  Palna looked Sweyn right in the eye and declared, “At dawn, Sweyn will dance beneath the cane.”

  Then he broke Sweyn’s grip and punched him in the face so hard that Sweyn fell to the ground, half knocked out from the pain. Palna kicked him in the gut, so he curled up, moaning.

  “Did I not say that I would whip the flesh off your back if you didn’t stay away?” Palna roared.

  Sweyn nodded, grunting.

  “Am I a man who keeps his word?” Palna continued.

  Sweyn forced himself to nod once again.

  “You won’t be so impertinent tomorrow.”

  Sweyn moaned as Palna gave him one last kick in the gut. The bitter taste of warm blood filled his mouth. The ground danced beneath his feet as he tried to get up. His body ached, and blood ran from both his nose and mouth. But a man had to take a licking. Sigrid was worth it. Not even Palna’s wrath could make him regret what had happened. Sweyn wiped his chin on the back of his hand and dragged himself to bed.

  His ribs ached but seemed intact, and he still had all his teeth, so things weren’t that bad.

  “Of all the passionate wenches you could’ve picked this night, you picked the only one you weren’t supposed to touch,” Åke said.

  Sweyn laughed painfully, spat out more blood, and then squeezed the leather pouch that still hung around his neck.

  “It had to happen,” he said simply.

  “How could you
defy Father after all he’s done for you?” Åke said with deep disappointment. “How could you turn against us? Did the king’s recognition and the ships you got inflate your head so much you lost all sense?”

  Sweyn felt his split lip and avoided making eye contact with Åke. Sigrid’s scent was still on his fingers and he could still feel himself inside her.

  “Maybe the whipping will beat some sense into you again.”

  Sweyn gulped and looked away at the first hint of dawn on the horizon before he groaned from the pain and lay down on his bed. He hoped Sigrid would get away from Harald and Styrbjörn’s men. Nothing else mattered.

  Sigrid hurried through the twilight on her bare feet, quite out of breath. The battle gear rattled as the warriors walked by her side, their hands at the ready on their swords. Axel was closest, and the anger was deeply etched into his face. Ulf kept looking around fearfully the whole time. At any moment someone could run up and take them captive.

  Sigrid had already been settled in her bed for the night when the door was flung open with a bang and Toste had rushed into the room and said they needed to get to the ships.

  He said, “Harald is taking Styrbjörn’s side against Svealand. They’re going to take you captive.” Then warriors had entered the room and carried out their chests. Alfhild and Jorun had packed up their things and now they were hurrying to the boats.

  A skinny, elderly servant, staring with his mouth open, guarded the courtyard in front of the royal hall.

  “Where are you going at this hour?” he sputtered.

  Sigrid’s heart froze in her chest. If he sounded the alarm, King Harald’s warriors would come running, bind her like an animal, and drag her off.

  “The movements of free men are their own business,” Toste said authoritatively, eyes fixed on the guard.

  The guard conceded and took a step back as they hurried past, onto the road that led down toward the harbor.

  “He’ll go to his supervisor and tell him what he saw,” Toste said. “So we won’t have long until they’re after us.”

  Sigrid’s hands trembled as she clutched her cloak. Never in this world or the next would she become Harald’s captive. Resolute, they reached the small village at the harbor, and several villagers pointed to them as they hurried down the slope to the harbor itself. A few drowsy men stood in the square and watched them rush by.