“Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord.” She nodded, stunned at what she was hearing and a bit unnerved by his nearness.
Harald looked into her eyes as if to pierce her through. “But if you ever betray me...”
She looked into the King’s dark eyes, her determination as unyielding as the steel she carried. “Then may the gods curse me and never let me enter Valhalla.”
His slow smile was that of a predator. The little hairs along her arms rose, but she couldn’t deny the magnetic draw of his eyes. He took one of her dark strands of hair and wrapped it around his fingers. Her body was overtaken by a sudden and pleasant shudder. Satisfied for now, he let the strand fall down across her breast and returned to a business-like demeanour.
“Now go and enjoy the feast,” he said with a dismissing wave of his hand. “We leave tomorrow.”
She nodded dutifully and stepped outside, grateful for a breath of fresh air. A heavy hand came down on her shoulder and she whirled to find Ari.
“Well? What do you have to say for yourself, Fljótdís?”
She hesitated for a moment, letting him wonder just a bit longer. Then, she gave him one of her brightest smiles.
“The King has accepted me, Ari. From now on I will be like your shadow and in service to the King’s protection.”
Ari laughed with appreciation and more than a touch of pride. “I thought so. You are truly one of a kind, my young friend. Come, we must celebrate this in proper fashion!”
She followed Ari to one of the campfires where the King’s guards and a few of their women were gathered. Fljótdís took her place beside Ari and looked around. These men were not drunk. They were watchful and able to protect their King in case of sudden danger. Even in this relaxed atmosphere, there was a mood of caution. They were keeping the watch.
Ari introduced her to everyone. The men were very different from each other, and three of them she remembered very well. Helgi, the redhead, was the most joyous man in all of the King’s realm, but incredibly good with his axe as well when it came to the battle. Ulrik was a tall, strong man with eyes dark as the deepest chasm of Helheim, dark as the river which flew from Hel’s gates into Gigungagap. This man was worth avoiding. No one ever asked for trouble when he was near. This was the same man who had given her a drink on the ship after she woke up from her unsettling dream.
And then there was the third warrior, blond, not very tall, with a big mouth, but little brain. There were two places where this man felt the best, the battlefield and between a woman’s legs. Hakon never let a woman go without putting his hands on her. She decided she would cut off a few of his fingers if he ever tried anything with her.
There was only one other warrior who should have been at this campfire right now. The one warrior who should have been sitting beside her now and telling her that he was very proud of her today, the one warrior for whom she did all this. The one warrior she missed so much.
“He’s in Valhalla now,” Ari assured her. “Ravens have brought news about you to Asgard today, Fljótdís. Odin is watching you now. You have made your father and Odin proud.”
She smiled sadly and took a small sip of mead, watching as the sparks of the fire jumped towards the sky joyfully like tiny messengers rising to the gods. She really hoped that Ari was right and that Odin had noticed her and that her father was really watching, seeing her deeds today. But her heart ached, saddened because she would not hear a good word from her father for all her life to come.
Chapter 7
Fljótdís tossed the reins of her horse into the hands of a stable boy. She entered the Great Hall in a rush. The King and others of importance were holding a meeting, but Harald raised his hand to halt the proceedings at the haste of her entrance. Everyone turned in her direction.
“What news do you bring, Fljótdís?” The King’s voice was deadly serious.
She nodded her respect but did not stand on ceremony. “My lord, King Torvaldson visited Earl Ulfson.”
“Traitors!” There was pure rage in Harald’s eyes.
The King’s anger was legendary, but Fljótdís held her head high. “Yes, my lord. I overheard it from one of Ulfson’s guards protecting the road to their village. He said to the other guard that he had seen Torvaldson himself.”
The King pounded his fist on the table, sending drinks toppling. “That bastard is planning treachery. All of these Earls are dirty snakes, living in my bosom, feasting on my generosity until they decide to bite my throat.”
One of the others found the courage to speak. “Lord, maybe that was only a...”
Harald’s glare robbed him of his tongue.“Only what, Rigvard? Only what? The hooting of an owl?”
The others lowered their eyes, unwilling to face the gauntlet of the King’s dangerous mood.
“He is planning to take my lands. That son-of-a-bitch has had his eye on them from the start. But I say he will get nothing but my sword shoved up his arse.”
She stood very still and listened. The King’s rage made her nervous. Gods only knew what such a man could do in the throes of such anger. She had seen his temper in action in the village. There could very well be bloodshed next.
She knew that Torvaldson wanted Harald’s lands, but she was quite sure he wouldn’t be so foolish as to try for them through a sudden attack. Harald’s army was much larger. But the number in that army would fall seriously if Earl Ulfson stood on the side of King Torvaldson. They needed to be careful and persuade Ulfson to stay loyal to his king and sovereign. Harald should understand that, but obviously, he didn’t and Fljótdís knew this was not the right time to make suggestions.
Harald turned to Ari. “I want Earl Ulfson dead tomorrow morning. I want his head for breakfast!”
Fljótdís cursed under her breath and stood next to Ari. “My lord, may I speak?”
Rigvard grunted his disgust. “And what would you say, woman, it’s time to make daisy chains? Men talk here. So keep your mouth shut and go back to feeding the pigs.”
She closed her hand around the handle of her sword, but she stayed in place and gave him a look worthy of his death.
With an impatient wave of his hand, Harald slumped down into his chair. “Let her speak.”
She took a deep breath. Now or never, Fljótdís. Now or never.
She knew she was right. Now, all she had to do was convince her very angry and vengeful King. “My lord, with your permission, if you kill Earl Ulfson, who will you put in his place?”
“I have many men here, girl.” The King gestured toward the group before him impatiently.
She nodded, giving the others a dismissing look that clearly aggravated them.
“True enough, my lord. But how long would it take until another Earl would find an ally in King Torvaldson? If you kill Ulfson without any evidence of his betrayal, which sadly we do not have except the words of the Earl’s guard who in no way would betray his lord, other Earls might start to believe that your anger clouds your judgment, or, with your pardon, my lord, that you may have become unjust. And that might well lead them to construct alliances against you.”
Harald regarded her with a calculating expression. The silence was heavy in the Hall. Her words were true and all in attendance knew it. But true or not, it was for the King to decide if they had merit to his mind.
Rigvard broke the silence. “My lord, you can’t seriously mean to listen to this idiot of a girl. She has no experience. She may fight well, but she has no place here at our table. She speaks ignorant gibberish. Lord, we must attack Earl Ulfson and kill him before it’s too late.”
The King froze Rigvard with a look. “Wisdom is wisdom, even from the mouth of a girl such as this one. Shut your mouth, Rigvard, or I will shut it for you.”
“But, my lord...”
“Get out!”
The Hall rang with Harald’s command and everyone came to attention. “You have disobeyed me too many times today. Get out of my sight!”
Rigvard’s hand shook on the handle of
his axe, but he nodded and turned to leave, casting one single murderous look at Fljótdís as he left the Great Hall. She understood that he would seek revenge for this. Whenever he took aim at her, she would be ready for him.
Ulrik, who usually spoke little, found his tongue. “The girl is right, my lord. If we kill this man, the kingdom will break into hostile alliances. King Torvaldson would use that to his advantage and grab the chance to try to steal our lands.”
Harald turned to Fljótdís. “So what do you suggest I do, o, wise child?”
She looked at Ulrik with gratitude and he nodded almost imperceptibly.
She took a deep breath. “What I suggest, my lord, is that you appeal to what he cares about the most, his selfish greed and ambition. Offer him something to keep his loyalty, something that would make him fight on your side when it comes to war.”
Ari took a step forward. “Fljótdís is right, my lord, we must have Ulfson on our side. Torvaldson is becoming bolder. If there is war coming, we must have all our Earls available to join us.”
The King stroked his beard, considering all of this. His words were cold as stone.
“And what would you have me give to this filthy Earl to keep his loyalty, Fljótdís? Some of my lands, silver from my coffers, the monies I need to feed my army? I can’t offer marriage, since I have no children of marriageable age. What, Fljótdís? Since you are so very smart, girl, tell me.”
She felt her courage vanish. She had no clue. Perhaps this was a bad idea. Now, the greatest thing she feared was that the King felt insulted, that he no longer respected her. He was done with her, ready to send her to Helheim. How could it all be over so soon?
But the moment passed and she calmed herself. If this was the end, she was going to handle it with dignity. She looked the King in the eye. “I don’t know the answer to your question, my lord. But more than Torvaldson offered Ulfson as a possible reward after conquering your lands.”
Hakon finally woke up from his daydreams about last night with three nice town girls in the barn. “I have an idea, my lord. Ulfson has a pretty daughter. They say she is quite beautiful. She was married not long ago to a despot from the east, but when Ulfson found out that his son-in-law planned to kill him and take his place, he killed the bastard. True, she’s no virgin, but not a bad choice. Why not take the woman as a wife, my lord?”
The idea hung in the air like an aurora. No one had any idea how the King would react to such a suggestion, but everyone was ready to take refuge under the table on quick notice if things went badly. To everybody’s surprise, the King looked to Ari calmly.
“What do you think?”
Ari sighed and gave the King an almost brotherly look. “Hakon’s idea is worth considering, my lord. But the choice is yours. We could offer him some of the lands in the east instead.”
Harald stood up and turned his back to his men. “I will think about it. Hakon, send the message to Ulfson that he is invited to visit his King. And may he bring his daughter with him. I want to take a look at her.”
“Yes, my lord.” Hakon nodded and quickly left the Hall.
The King poured himself a cup of wine and sat down on his throne, looking tired and old as the world itself. “You all can go now. Except Fljótdís.”
Fljótdís glanced at Ari. He squeezed her shoulder encouragingly, but even his smile couldn’t hide the worry in his eyes. He left the Great Hall with Ulrik and Helgi. Fljótdís followed their departure with a longing gaze.
She found the King staring at her. His expression was as it so often was, unreadable. The uncertainty about his mindset made her uneasy. There was something very unnerving about seeing this man so calm, so silent. Only his eyes spoke to her and she regretted with all heart her inability to read them.
Harald gestured for her to come closer. She approached him, unsure what might happen next. If he was about to issue her death sentence because of her boldness, he would probably do the job himself here and now and be done with her. She braced herself for the worst.
Harald swirled the wine in his goblet, his thoughts now lost in the costly red drink.
“I had a wife once. Did you know that, Fljótdís?”
She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath, but she let it out in a slow exhale. This was not at all what she had expected. She had no idea what to say to him.
“My wife was beautiful like Feyja. More beautiful even than your stepmother. But don’t tell her I said that.” His smile was wry.
The King never spoke about his wife and forbade others from speaking about her. Yet, here he was musing about her as if he were going over old times with a life-long confidante.
“She gave me a beautiful daughter. Any man would be proud to have two such exquisite goddesses in his Hall, laughing and singing. But the gods themselves were jealous of me. They sent a terrible plague that took them both away from me, first my wife, then my daughter. And their cruelty didn’t end there. I was done with life, done with suffering and loss. But the gods saw to it that I lived on, alone, with nothing but my sorrow and a heart as cold and empty as a night in winter.”
The King grew silent as the pain of the past overtook him. He drew in a sharp breath as if returning from a dream.
“I swore never to marry again, swore it standing beside my beloved wife’s funeral pyre. And now you are asking me to break my promise.”
She was nearly undone by his confession. She hadn’t known. And if she had known, what would she have done differently when the safety of the King and his lands were so clearly at stake? Sentiment could have no place when the future of the kingdom was in the balance. Perhaps he was testing her to see if she would react as a warrior, or as a woman.
“My lord, I ask nothing of you. You are the King, the ruler of us all. Your word is law. If this plan is unacceptable to you, then we must come up with another way to solve this problem.”
She waited for what felt like an eternity. He came to stand before her. His eyes told her nothing and in an unexpected move, he walked behind her. She felt his breath on the back of her neck as he spoke softly.
“You are very smart for your age, little one. Smart for a woman.”
“I...”
Harald brushed her shoulder lightly and she lost her words. He circled her like a predator, judging her from head to toe.
He leaned closer, looking deeply into her eyes. “And not unappealing. You will have a great future if you stay loyal to me. I could make something very special of you. But only if you obey me. Do you understand my meaning?”
Obey. It was a word pressed against children and slaves, a word employed against the powerless. Was that what he was telling her now, that she was, in fact, powerless and that the only way she could achieve her greatness was by giving herself to him, through gratifying him in bed?
No matter how much she wanted to be part of his guard, no matter how much she found the King intriguing and compelling, she had her pride and her honour. They were the only things of true value she could still call her own. To forfeit these things purely to satisfy the King’s legendary lust until he tired of her and sought another was a compromise she wasn’t ready to make. It put her mind into genuine conflict and the rest of her in very real danger.
She met his eyes with all the courage she could muster. “My lord, I desire only to serve you as your protector. I pledge my loyalty to you with all my heart and I will guard your life with my own to my last breath. But more than that I cannot give. And if that...more is required of me, I will apologise for my foolishness and return to my river house to live in humble seclusion. My father taught me well. My honour is worth more to me even than service to you, my King.”
Harald regarded her with a mixture of admiration and amusement. “You think rather highly of yourself, Fljótdís. I have not asked you to share my bed. To be sure, a man’s weapon always thirsts for first blood.” His gaze ran down her body to the juncture of her pelvis, his mind clearly on her probable virginity.
“I
am your King. What I ask will be given, or it will be taken from you, no matter how much you prize it. Whatever I require from you, you will give it to me freely and without hesitation, as a gift, a gift as the testimony of your absolute allegiance. If you deny any request of mine, the consequences would not be so tame as a return to your little burrow in the river bank.
“But that is not what we are about, you and I, Fljótdís. When I ask for your obedience, I ask only that you fulfil my orders when it comes to my safety and the safety of my people, no matter the danger to yourself, no matter the circumstances or the consequences. That is what I ask of you. That is what I demand. Do we understand each other?”
His words swirled in her head, a mad mixture of threats, promises, and...respect. There was no time to sort it all out. At least for now, he was only asking that she serve him as her father had served him. That was all she cared about. It was all that mattered. “We understand each other well, my King.”
Chapter 8
Fljótdís put a bowl of stew and a cup of mead in front of Ari. It felt very good to be home, a place where she was in control.
“Have you seen Ulfson’s daughter, Ari?”
This next wife of the King was of interest to her. But no matter how much she wanted to deny it, she felt a small twinge of jealousy. It was not that she wanted him, she assured herself. It was just that somehow, she didn’t want another woman to have him. This made no sense, of course, and she did her best to dismiss such unsettling thoughts. The King deserved a decent wife and the people needed a good queen. But it was not Ari’s voice that answered her question.
“She is a woman of uncommon beauty.”
Fljótdís turned to find her stepmother standing in the doorway.
“Irena.” There was no warmth in the greeting.
Irena entered the room with an air of ownership. “Greetings, my dear girl. And how do you fare, Ari? I haven’t seen you for a while.”
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