“Neither are you,” Sigurd muttered again, and this time Egil ignored him. Egil was right about one thing: in his place, Ragnvald would go along until he learned something of value to him. Hakon’s plans were no clearer to Sigurd at this moment than the mud of the river that curled around Dublin, and would carry his ships to the sea.
* * *
The strong, warm winds of late spring afforded an easy crossing from Dublin to Vestfold. Sigurd hardly had time to grow weary of attempting to sleep shipboard, sharing a sleeping bag with Egil this time, before the coast of Norway appeared in the distance, and then broke into the collection of islands that guarded the mouth of Stavanger Fjord. Seabirds tracked the convoy, scavenging bits of food that washed out of sailors’ slop pots. Sigurd became friendly with a gull, a great, black-eyed creature with a cry more plaintive than its fellows, who avoided the snares of the sailors who tried to catch it. It ate crumbs once from Sigurd’s hand, and Egil chided him for not wringing its neck, for everyone would have liked fresh meat, but Sigurd was glad he had not. On their voyage to the Faroes, Dyri had told Sigurd that the killing of some birds was unlucky, and Sigurd needed luck traveling with a man as crafty as Hakon.
He could not read the currents as Ragnvald, or even Egil could, but it seemed to him that Rane and Hakon sailed to Vestfold to take it from Harald. It was plain that Rane believed Harald had taken Vestfold from him, and that Rane had an alliance with the Swedish king.
As the ships passed south along the coast of Rogaland, Hakon pointed out a narrow channel opening. “That’s Kvernevik—it leads into Haversfjord. You could hide a hundred ships in there and none would ever know.”
“It looks like it ends right there,” said Sigurd.
“Most people think so,” said Hakon. “But King Gudbrand—he was against Harald at Vestfold—his father fought a mighty battle there, and secured Stavanger Fjord for his son, so he could charge a toll of anyone who wanted to pass. Of course, Gudbrand was defeated, but only because he allowed himself to be drawn to battle on Harald’s terms. If he’d stayed, Harald could never have pried him out.”
“I have heard that Harald has a god’s own luck,” said Sigurd.
“Luck, yes,” said Hakon.
* * *
In Vestfold’s harbor, the sails that hung slackly over the empty ships were in Hakon’s own colors of blue and white. “See, my sons are already here. I told you—Harald has given them defense of Vestfold to prove their worth.” He said it slyly, Sigurd thought. But Egil had told him that Hakon and Harald were always at each other’s throats. That there was a difference between betrayal and searching for advantage. A very small difference, probably, in Hakon’s case.
Rane took a few hundred men into the hills to regain his ancestral land, the woods and pastures of Vermaland. This was the site of Harald’s first conquest, Sigurd knew, and Hakon did nothing to prevent it. Still, Hakon might think that Rane might make a good guardian for it, with Harald in Nidaros. Sigurd thought of finding passage on a ship back to Naustdal, but he had little of worth to bring Ragnvald, even now. He must wait for news that Hakon could not explain away.
He spent the summer patrolling and drilling with Hakon’s other warriors, and helping with the local farmers’ harvest when the hay ripened in the field. Hakon kept Vestfold at peace, and Rane’s conquest, if it had even been a conquest, had passed with hardly a ripple, no refugees fleeing his battle or tales of bloodshed reached the hall at Vestfold. If Sigurd told Ragnvald what he knew, his brother might dismiss it as troublemaking and rumor.
Herlaug and Geirbjorn departed after the harvest and did not return until after the first winter storm had wrapped Vestfold in snow and fog. Sigurd found himself seated near Hakon’s sons at the feast that welcomed them home, for his status as Ragnvald’s brother, if only through marriage ties, elevated him. Hakon had many scarred men among his company, a complement of destroyed ears, missing fingers, and ragged scars cording necks, but none that gave Sigurd the unpleasant thrill that the stretched, red flesh of Herlaug’s face always did.
“I’ve often wondered, why did you come to Vestfold?” Geirbjorn asked Sigurd during the night’s feasting.
Sigurd told him the tale of leaving Sogn for Iceland, and how their feckless captain had stopped in the Faroes. “It was my wyrd to meet up with your father in the islands, I suppose.” Then, with some slyness of his own added, “It did not seem right to continue fighting at the side of my father’s killer.” Hakon and Rane insisted he must want revenge; let all believe that as long as he traveled with men who hated his stepbrother.
“Well enough,” said Geirbjorn. “I would help you get revenge myself, as soon as my father gives me leave. You should rule Sogn, since Ragnvald’s line could not hold it.” Atli—that was Sigurd’s fault.
Geirbjorn darted a look at his father. Sigurd had noted some constraint between Hakon and his sons since their return, though he could not tell the source of it. Surely Hakon should be pleased to see them, but his face was harsh and closed off.
“Brother,” called out Geirbjorn. “You should tell the tale. Our father’s men have not yet heard.”
“How she screamed,” Herlaug said, the side of his mouth that could move twisting into a smile. His eyes were flat, as unreadable as an overcast sky. “You tell it.” He looked at Geirbjorn until he nodded and continued the story. Sigurd listened with horror as Geirbjorn related a tale of cruelty far out of proportion to Herlaug’s wound. This was why Hakon’s face was so still and hard.
“Yes,” said Geirbjorn. “I held her down while he”—he jerked his chin at Herlaug—“carved up her face.” Herlaug nodded, his hands tightening on his dagger and spoon and he leaned slightly forward. Geirbjorn continued, warming to the tale. “Her serving girls screamed as though we were cutting them instead. I had two of them when we were done and Herlaug had another. Not a woman in that house we didn’t make scream before we left.”
Some laughed at that, though Sigurd thought it sounded hollow. His own laughter stuck in his throat. He looked at the faces of the men nearby. Most refused to meet his eyes, or each other’s. Geirbjorn seemed to sense the uneasiness his tale had engendered. “We had to take our revenge,” he said, not laughing now. “We could not let this go unanswered.”
“Harald has done worse,” said one of Hakon’s old warriors. “He killed those men in Tafjord—Heming’s men, who were forced to fight for Solvi.”
“They should not have fought for Solvi,” said Geirbjorn.
“He didn’t have to kill them like slaves,” said the old warrior.
Hakon cleared his throat. “Revenge is necessary,” he said with an air of finality. “Otherwise men would kill and injure each other with impunity. They have to know their actions will be punished—and if not them, then their families.”
27
Ragnvald still attended the Sogn ting the summer after moving his household to Maer. Maer had not hosted a ting—at least not one blessed by its king—in generations, not since before Solvi’s grandfather ruled. Ragnvald had let it be known that any Maer men who wanted justice from a jury rather than their king were welcome to join him in Sogn. Several families gathered at his hall at Naustdal in the weeks before and traveled with him to the ting grounds.
Ragnvald set up in Olaf’s old booth, which had been his father Eystein’s before Olaf’s usurpation. He had reinforced and expanded the area over the years, so it could host the full ting feast after the midsummer sacrifices. The glacier still watched over the ting grounds, a frozen river of white and blue dividing the mountains, though the ice cave Ragnvald remembered exploring with Oddi had collapsed. As usual, the plain was colder than the surrounding woods as the wind from the ice field swept across it.
Ragnvald hosted a welcome feast with Atli and Heming the night before the midsummer sacrifices. He had Alfrith by his side; Hilda remained at Naustdal with all of the children, who were suffering from a mild pox. Alfrith had said when they left that all of the boys were past danger, and
Ragnvald had never known her to be wrong about illness or injury. He wished he could have brought Ivar, though, who always enjoyed the races and the games, and would benefit from the midsummer blessing.
Alfrith was now far enough into her pregnancy that it showed in the rounding of her belly, softened the stern lines of her face. She shared hostess duties with Atli’s wife, Bertha, while Vigdis sat among the lesser women at the ting. Ragnvald gave the welcome toasts he had given in years past, and invited Heming to make his own.
“If I am king of North Maer, I should host a ting there,” said Heming after finishing a brief blessing for all of the attendees from Maer. “I remember attending the Halogaland and Trondelag tings sometimes with my father, but that land is so vast that few can usually make the journey.”
“You are king of North Maer,” said Ragnvald. “You should do it.”
“You do not think Harald will take it from me when he hears what my brothers have done?” Heming asked. He had never fully recovered his confidence from his capture at the battle at Vestfold seven years earlier, and losing Tafjord to Solvi, however briefly, the previous year, had made him even more skittish. Ragnvald preferred this cautious Heming to the one he had met on these very grounds, years previous. But if he ever wanted to be allowed to return to Sogn as its king, Heming had to be king of North Maer in truth, and prove himself able to defend South Maer as well.
“No, I do not,” said Ragnvald. “Harald keeps his promises to those who remain loyal to him.”
“Yes,” Atli agreed, “even when he would rather not.” He gave Ragnvald a knowing smile, and Ragnvald presumed that he meant giving Sogn to Atli.
“You hold Sogn in trust for me,” said Ragnvald. “Do not forget your oath. One promise Harald always keeps is to punish oath breakers.”
Atli tipped his head forward in an obsequious bow. “I would never do such a thing. I hold Sogn for Ragnvald the Wise, Ragnvald the Mighty, while he performs more important tasks elsewhere.”
Ragnvald took a deep breath and reminded himself that Atli had never sworn an oath not to irritate him, and if that was all he did, Ragnvald should be well pleased. The Sogn farmers that Ragnvald had spoken with at the ting all had fine reports of Atli and his sons. They settled disputes fairly, ran off raiders, and still called Ragnvald king. He had nothing he could complain about to Harald, and no proof that Atli had paid off the farmers at the ting to speak well of him.
“What do you think Harald will do about Herlaug and Geirbjorn?” Heming asked. Ragnvald searched his narrow, handsome face for calculation or anger, but found no emotion beyond worry that furrowed his brow.
“Outlaw them,” said Ragnvald. “They could still seek lands in Iceland, or your father’s other holdings overseas.”
“Do you think they would leave?” Heming asked.
“They are your brothers,” said Ragnvald. “What do you think?”
“They will do what my father says they should,” said Heming, sounding dispirited.
* * *
To show his unity with Heming and Atli, Ragnvald shared sacrifice duties with them on midsummer night. The day after the sacrifices, the trials began. The weather had turned chilly, with clouds ringing the ting plain, though overhead the sun shone down and warmed Ragnvald in his wool cloak.
Hrolf acted as law speaker. With Egil gone to Iceland, perhaps Einar should become law speaker after Hrolf, since he could never inherit Sogn. Hrolf would be pleased to foster one of Ragnvald’s sons. He listened to Hrolf recite the laws—the cycle had come around twice since his trial against Solvi, and Hrolf repeated the same laws again, betrothal and kin laws: to which kin marriage was permitted, to which forbidden. Marrying a stepparent was not allowed unless the parent had been married less than a year before divorce or death. Ragnvald made sure that his eyes did not find Vigdis’s.
Hrolf continued; marriage between brother and sister, half-sister and half-brother: forbidden. Marriage between aunt and nephew, uncle and niece: only allowed when no other spouses of appropriate rank could be found. Marriage between cousins: allowed unless the parents of either had also been cousins. The laws had a repetitive quality, and Ragnvald found himself nodding along almost as to a song. He thought Einar might not have the patience to memorize long passages of law unless he saw a benefit for himself. He was a quick boy, for whom deed followed thought so immediately that he often appeared not to have considered his actions at all, though he always had a good reason for them when questioned afterward.
When Hrolf finished reciting the laws, he called forth accusers for the most serious crimes. Ragnvald tensed when saw Arnfast and Tofi step forward, accompanied by Jorunn, whose head was covered with a linen shroud. A braid of many colors, from bright gold to deepest brown, hung down from beneath the shroud, long enough to reach past her waist. She must have been a beauty before her wounding.
“King Ragnvald, it is you they want justice from,” said Hrolf, a voice that carried across the plain to where Ragnvald walked around the outside of the spectators.
Ragnvald crossed the open field, forcing himself to walk slowly, not to let the weight of eyes upon him hurry him along. He should have known Arnfast’s patience would run out eventually. He had wanted more time to see how the news of Herlaug’s revenge spread, and Harald’s reaction. Harald would probably avoid taking action unless forced into it, as Ragnvald would be forced today. He glared at Arnfast and his family; he had a plan, and it did not involve their bringing suit today. With Heming and Oddi present, he would have to be careful. For his plan to work, it must appear that Hakon had taken the first step into rebellion against Harald.
“Against whom do you bring suit?” Ragnvald asked.
“It is against Herlaug and Geirbjorn, King Hakon’s sons,” said Arnfast.
“They are not here. What justice can I dispense?”
“You promised vengeance for my family. Where is it?” Arnfast asked. Dark shadows ringed his eyes, which he would not raise to meet Ragnvald’s.
“I promised justice,” said Ragnvald. “By their actions, Herlaug and Geirbjorn are outlawed from all Norway, and I now declare them outlawed from Sogn and South Maer so all may hear it. They are outlawed for life for the double crime of disobeying their king and breaking a sworn oath.” Arnfast could hope for nothing other than that to be done at the ting assembly.
“This was already known,” said Arnfast. Now he met Ragnvald’s gaze, his hand drifting near his sword. “Outlawry is not enough. They must be killed.”
“They will be, if they are found on Norse soil. Anyone who gives them aid will be punished. Any man who sees them is honor bound to kill them on sight,” said Ragnvald. “Harald has given justice, and it will find these outlaws.”
“Is that all you can do for my mother’s pain?” Arnfast asked. “Forgive me if I doubt this justice when Heming and Oddbjorn Hakonsson stand by your side? I expect more from my king.”
Ragnvald grew angry. His duty was to protect Arnfast and his family, but Arnfast called his kingship into question before the men of two districts. If Heming and Oddi had murdered Arnfast’s family to end the feud before it began, the men of Norway would recognize it as the gods’ bloody will, necessary to prevent a larger war, and no one would be punished. Arnfast did his family no good today.
Hrolf stepped forward, putting the bulk of his body half between Ragnvald and Arnfast. He laid a heavy hand on Arnfast’s shoulder. “If King Heming of North Maer, or Oddbjorn Hakonsson failed to see their brothers, or found their swords too heavy to lift, others would do the deed for them,” he said. “King Ragnvald’s friendships do not make his justice any less binding.”
Ragnvald gave him a nod of thanks.
“I do not accept this,” said Arnfast.
“What more do you want that can be demanded at a ting?” Hrolf asked.
“Revenge,” said Jorunn, the word indistinct, so Arnfast repeated it louder for the crowd.
“She wants revenge for what was done to her. Everyone knows that
Hakon’s sons do Harald’s bidding in Vestfold. That is no true outlawry,” said Arnfast.
“You asked for my justice, and I have given what I can,” said Ragnvald. “If you are dissatisfied, go to Harald, or to Hakon himself.” Under his breath, to Arnfast, he added: “We will speak later. You will be on the wrong side of my justice if you disobey Harald’s laws against feud.”
“Your justice—” Arnfast began, but stopped when his mother put her hand on his arm. He flushed, bowed his head, and let her lead him away.
Other trials followed, disputes over land and promises of marriage that had not been fulfilled. Ragnvald gave judgments when he was called on, and invited Atli to give his when the case was clear, or Ragnvald did not have a stake in the outcome.
After Hrolf dismissed the trials for the day, Ragnvald returned to his tent. Oddi, looking grim, came to sit by his side. “I have heard myself spoken about more than I have been spoken to today,” he said to Ragnvald, “and no word from you to defend me. Do you doubt my loyalty to you?”
“No, I trust you,” said Ragnvald quickly.
“You trust me, but you will not tell Arnfast’s family that I will uphold your laws. You trust me, but you will not trust me with your justice, your vengeance, or your plans. You trust me, but you do not trust me with your sister.”
“I trust you,” said Ragnvald. “I trust you to believe me when I say there are things you want no part of—and Arnfast’s family is one of those.” Svanhild was probably another, but Oddi did not need to hear that. “I am trying to keep you from being drawn into this.”
“But—”
“Do you want to choose between me and your father?” Ragnvald asked. “I am trying to prevent you from having to make that choice.”
“By keeping me ignorant?” Oddi asked.
“You know all there is to know,” said Ragnvald.
“Except your plans.”
“Even I barely know those,” said Ragnvald with a rueful smile that he hoped would keep Oddi from asking more questions. There was no benefit to Oddi knowing that Ragnvald hoped to lure Hakon into a rebellion that would turn every king loyal to Harald against him. If it succeeded, then he wanted Oddi to feel certain that standing by Ragnvald’s side and Harald’s was the honorable course.
The Sea Queen Page 33