Ragnvald gave Svanhild a quelling look. Better this come from him. “I have seen the ruin he made of her face,” he said quietly. “It was ill done, and against your justice.”
“Then I have a double need to go to Vestfold,” said Harald. “My justice will be upheld, even should it punish my allies.”
Guthorm had been sitting quietly, scowling over his meat as he put fatty bits to the side. Now he glared at Svanhild. “You will need Hakon as an ally more than ever if the rumors of Solvi Hunthiofsson are true. Now is not the time to anger Hakon.”
Ragnvald felt a moment’s panic. Guthorm was right, but Ragnvald’s arrow was already loosed, Tofi and Jorunn flying toward Hakon. “I have outlawed Herlaug and Geirbjorn from Sogn and South Maer,” said Ragnvald. “I thought I would not be your true king if I did not uphold your justice.” He glanced at Guthorm, then back at Harald. “If I acted in error, tell me so.”
“Hakon is a king,” said Harald uncertainly. “He will understand the necessity of justice.”
Guthorm barked out a short, disbelieving laugh. “So many lies spoken here tonight. Ragnvald, you cannot possibly believe you have acted in error, and Harald, you know how little Hakon cares for justice.” He glanced at Oddi, smiling thinly. “Do you fear that Hakon’s bastard will report back to him? Is that why both of you dissemble?”
Oddi’s face grew troubled. “I have sworn oaths of brotherhood with my friend Ragnvald, and loyalty to my king Harald. Do not doubt me.”
“King Hakon will not forgive you outlawing his sons,” said Guthorm to Ragnvald, and then turned to Harald, “and you cannot have him as an enemy. Justice must bow to that.”
“Who is king of Norway then?” Harald asked his uncle. “Is it me or Hakon? I should have killed Heming when he murdered my friend Thorbrand.”
“That is past and done with,” said Guthorm. “Heming is the least of your problems now.”
In that, at least, Ragnvald could agree. And he agreed that Hakon was still Harald’s most powerful ally—powerful enough to make Harald into the puppet he feared to be. If Hakon were gone, Harald could install Heming as king of Halogaland—a weaker king, who would happily put all of his forces at Harald’s disposal. He prayed to Odin that Jorunn would find her mark.
“What should I do, then?” Harald asked Guthorm angrily.
“Outlaw Herlaug and Geirbjorn Hakonsson. Justice requires it. But let them leave peaceably, and tell Hakon they may return in time,” said Guthorm.
“Ragnvald?” Harald asked.
Ragnvald met Guthorm’s eyes briefly. Harald had never put his counsel up against Guthorm’s quite so nakedly, and Ragnvald thought it evidence of his desperation. “Your uncle is right,” he said.
“What of this Arnfast?” Harald asked. “How far will he go for his revenge?”
“I can delay him,” said Ragnvald. He met Harald’s eyes, and hoped Harald read a little of what he meant but could not say before Oddi: Arnfast was welcome to Herlaug and Geirbjorn as soon as Harald no longer needed Hakon as an ally, which would be possible as soon as Solvi was defeated.
“Very well,” said Harald. “Tell me of Naustdal. Have you had any trouble?”
Ragnvald told him of a peaceful year—save for Herlaug’s revenge—and of how he arranged his defenses. Harald gave rapt attention to Ragnvald’s description of guard placements, the use of small boats, signal fires, and smoke signals. He had never held a district against raiders—his experience was in conquest. “The scouts work in pairs,” said Ragnvald. “They rotate among positions. Heming, Oddi, and I, and some of the other captains, take regular watches so the men know we are willing to share in the boredom and danger. None are chosen from farms that cannot spare a man or two.”
“And it works well?” Harald asked as he chewed a mouthful of meat.
“I set Oddi to test it,” Ragnvald told him. “With no warning. Heming’s forces were alerted and sailed down Geiranger Fjord to confront him.”
“Heming boarded my ship and would have killed me if Ragnvald hadn’t been there to tell him it was only a drill,” said Oddi dryly. It had not been as bad as that, but Oddi took every opportunity to distance himself from his brothers, especially since Herlaug and Geirbjorn’s crime.
“Heming has shared defense of Maer admirably,” said Ragnvald. “I worried, but he has—he is better out from under his father’s shadow, as usual.”
“That is good to know,” said Harald. “I came here to ask you to join me in battle this summer. This confrontation with Solvi is inevitable, and I want you by my side.”
“Let us speak on it later,” said Ragnvald. “Where does your progress take you next? Will you visit my friend Atli Mjove in Sogn?”
“Do you want me to check up on him for you?” Harald asked. “I say he is too lazy to make the kind of trouble you fear, but I will make certain.”
Lazy was not the word Ragnvald would have chosen, though he supposed Atli’s trickster nature was a way of getting others to do what he wanted, to spare himself the trouble. “Do not depart too quickly,” he said. “You should see Naustdal. All the clearings where we fought two summers ago are peaceful now.”
“And Vemund’s hall?” Harald asked. “Do I sit now where he sat once?” Ragnvald had been uneasy returning to that burned patch of land, where white grubs in the soil could easily be mistaken for shards of bone.
“It is a garden now,” said Svanhild, filling Ragnvald’s silence. “It grows healing herbs.” Alfrith had done some magic to put any lingering spirits to rest, and planted the garden. Tonight she waited upon tables with the servants, and would continue until the guests had eaten their fill.
“Do you know healing magic?” Harald asked Svanhild warmly. “My mother is a great healer.”
“So I have heard,” said Svanhild. “Her skills are renowned. I can sew up a cut and set a bone, but little beyond that.” She smiled back at Harald.
“Perhaps you can learn from her someday,” said Harald. His concerns seemed to prevent him continuing his flirtation with her further that night. He guided the conversation back to Ragnvald’s defensive tactics at Maer, and again listed kings and jarls from whom he had extracted oaths over the past year. He commanded the loyalty of leaders over the full stretch of Norway’s coast, though near the mountains, some upland kings and jarls still thought themselves independent. The drinking did not continue very late into the night, for Harald’s demeanor forbade celebration. Before he left the table to sleep for the night, he asked Ragnvald to assure him they would have time to speak in private the next day.
* * *
The following morning, Ragnvald found Harald already awake and eating his breakfast porridge outside, alone except for a few guards standing well back. The dew was strung like jewels along the grass in the shade, though already dry where the sun had touched. When Ragnvald sat next to him, he pushed away his bowl and spoon, and sat upon his hands, looking more like a boy than a king.
“Ragnvald, my friend, I need you by my side again.” Harald looked off into the woods rising behind the hall, where pale green buds shadowed the bare underbrush. “Marry your sister to me, leave Oddi in charge of South Maer, and come with me to Vestfold.”
Ragnvald could not help but laugh at the list of demands; Harald spoke his desires like a child who had never been denied.
“What?” Harald asked. “Why do you laugh? I am your king and your friend—why won’t you join me?”
“Let us talk of them one at a time,” said Ragnvald. “Beginning with the easiest: I think Svanhild would agree to marriage. She has not been happy in my household.”
“Why not?” Harald asked.
“She likes adventure—compared to sailing with Solvi, sitting in the women’s chamber is poor entertainment.”
“Don’t you miss adventure as well?” Harald asked.
“Not as much as she,” said Ragnvald.
“But a little,” said Harald, pouncing on the opening. “Solvi will attack this summer, I am sure of it.
I need you with me.”
“We don’t know where he will attack.” Ragnvald had only a year here in Naustdal, free from battles, taking time to raise his sons and make Alfrith pregnant. Even that had been marred by Herlaug’s vengeance upon Arnfast’s family.
“I need you, Ragnvald. I hear rumors of Solvi gathering allies in Sweden and Iceland. Even my uncle won’t admit how easily all this can fall back into fighting and chaos.” He gestured at the wooded hill that rose before them, and Ragnvald imagined the gold of his touch spreading, like sunlight on water, to encompass all of Norway.
“That is why someone must guard Maer for you,” said Ragnvald.
“Heming and Oddi Hakonsson can do it,” Harald countered.
“With Oddi in Naustdal and Atli in Sogn, you would leave me king of nothing at all,” said Ragnvald. He spoke more bitterly than he meant to.
“You are still king of Sogn,” said Harald.
“In name only,” said Ragnvald.
“I thought you were my friend.” Harald sounded truly confused. “If I am king of all Norway, there is nothing I cannot give you. If I am not, I can do nothing for you at all.”
Ragnvald wanted to protest that Sogn was his by right, by vote, by blood, but Harald could easily respond that none of that would have come without him by Ragnvald’s side, and they would both be correct.
“When have I served you ill?” Harald asked, seeing some advantage in Ragnvald’s hesitation. “Do you doubt my generosity? I need you. I will reward you, of course.” With some other land, on which Ragnvald would need to build yet another hall, and win over a new set of subjects.
“I asked for time,” said Ragnvald. “And now I tell you that we do not know where Solvi will attack. It is better to keep guard where we can—you in Vestfold, I here. I promise you this: I will come to your side if you have need of me. Can you truly tell me it would be better for me to abandon Maer and Sogn if Solvi comes this way?”
“My uncle said you were still angry with me over those men in Tafjord,” said Harald. Ragnvald sighed. His anger over those deaths was like banked coals, not hot like his anger at Herlaug’s more recent crime. Those men had not been his subjects. “I thought that was ill done. I still do. But that is not the question now—your question should be where I can do your kingdom the most good, and the answer is here. You should ask your uncle about that as well.”
“You are wise,” said Harald. He gave Ragnvald a tired grin. “At least I will be able to carry your sister away from here.”
“Take her to Sogn first,” said Ragnvald. “Remind Atli who is king there.”
Harald nodded. “And then I will bring Svanhild to my new town of Tonsberg—it is well protected, only a day’s sail from my Vestfold halls. From there I will see what happens in my old district—if as many mass against me as I fear, I think my fighting will be from there for the next few years.”
“I will come when you need me,” Ragnvald promised again.
Harald smiled and clasped his forearm, then pulled Ragnvald in for an embrace. “This gives me great joy. I have not liked warring without you this past year. Together, we will defeat all of our enemies.”
29
Svanhild was still rubbing sleep from her eyes when Ragnvald and Harald came into the kitchen. They both greeted her, exchanged a look, and then Harald left Ragnvald alone with her. He drew Svanhild outdoors, and away from the men who slept outside, in case they should overhear.
“Harald still wants to marry you,” he said. “Do you want to?”
Svanhild sat down abruptly on the bench. She had expected this, of course, at some point in the future. In her vague imaginings, it came after she had heard of Solvi’s death, or his taking another woman. And she had wished, foolishly, for Harald to be the one to ask her, not to send the question through Ragnvald, even though that was the proper way to do things.
“Do you want me to?” she asked. “I wondered. After the battle at Solskel, it seemed you and Harald were not as close.”
“I did not want to fight his battles at the expense of my own family,” said Ragnvald stiffly.
“And you were angry with him for how he treated those men of Heming’s,” Svanhild added. He had come to her looking as though his insides had been scooped out. “Now you would marry me to a man like that?”
“You have practice being married to a man like that,” said Ragnvald.
He had never thrown Solvi at her in that way before. Svanhild rose to her feet in anger. She would never apologize for choosing Solvi. Even with all the pain, she would do it again. Harald was not so different from Solvi—that is what Ragnvald seemed to be saying. The violence that Solvi and his followers visited upon their enemies and the targets of their raids had rarely troubled Svanhild. A sea king brought death and cruelty in his ship and traded them for treasure won. Ragnvald’s words made her feel soiled, though, as if her role was to absorb the ugliness that he had turned away from.
“Sit, Svanhild,” said Ragnvald. “I should not have said that. Harald is a good match. He is king of all Norway. Who would not want a marriage alliance with a man like that?”
“So I should do with my body what you will not?” Svanhild asked. She paced away from him. “You want me to spread my legs for him and risk my life in childbirth because you will no longer bloody your sword for him?”
“I’m asking you what you want,” said Ragnvald. “You seem unhappy here.”
“You want me gone too,” said Svanhild angrily. “Just like Hilda.” She felt as though she could see Solvi here, like a ghost strong enough to appear in sunlight, as she made this decision.
“You plague her,” said Ragnvald. “I do not wish you gone—but Harald’s wives are spared much of the pain of other women. I would be pleased if you were among them.”
“The dowry will be expensive,” she said with a small, helpless laugh. She looked down at him. His face had settled into forbidding lines from years of rarely smiling. He was bound to Harald by his dreams, his wyrd, his oaths, and he wanted Svanhild to share that burden. She gave him a half smile, and hit him on the arm. “Oddi would have been cheaper.”
“If you are Harald’s wife, you cannot take a lover,” said Ragnvald. “You cannot. If you wish to be married to Oddi, that can be made to happen. I think you know that. And I know you do not dislike each other.”
And Oddi would let her take a lover—but he deserved better than that. “Oddi and I have run out of things to say. If there was ever much. Like you and Hilda, perhaps.”
“Hilda and I speak little because we understand each other. Anyway, I had not thought speaking to be the main part of it,” said Ragnvald, voice teasing. “As long as you like the look of Harald . . .”
“And who could not?” Svanhild answered recklessly. Solvi was not here to stop her. “I will go, if that is your wish. I wonder, though, if my marrying Harald will give you more trouble than it avoids.”
“I don’t know,” said Ragnvald. “It may be trading one kind of worry for another. But I would like to see you settled with a husband I will never do battle against.”
“I will go with him to Sogn for you,” said Svanhild. “I will see if I like him still, and if he likes me.” Her, her past, and her daughter. He must accommodate all three, or she would not give up her place in Ragnvald’s household. Harald’s wives were the first women of Norway, with near infinite wealth and freedom, especially after Harald tired of them or made them pregnant. She could be useful to Ragnvald and please herself. “You may tell him that—I will consider marriage but I must decide.”
* * *
Harald remained in Naustdal for a few more weeks, and then sent one of his captains to Tafjord to see how Heming ruled his portion of Maer. Harald would find no fault; Heming had followed Ragnvald’s direction, both in defense and organizing North Maer’s tax collection. It might fall apart when Ragnvald returned to Sogn, or if Maer had a bad harvest, but for now, Heming and Ragnvald had imposed order on Maer that had been missing since befor
e Solvi’s father, Hunthiof, was king.
Harald made no move to speak with Svanhild alone while he remained at Naustdal, only complimented her extravagantly in public, and gave her some looks that heated her blood, and made it easier to brush aside thoughts of Solvi.
When she departed with Harald’s convoy Svanhild left her daughter at Naustdal. She would take Thora’s milk if Svanhild was not there, and she was strong and could be weaned early if necessary. Svanhild’s breasts ached after a day without nursing, but she knew that would pass, and otherwise, she craved this distance. She did not feel bound to Freydis as she had to Eystein, when it seemed his fragile body was an extension of her own, and his every hurt pained her. Ragnvald’s household could take in her daughter as a sister to all of his sons. Alfrith would bear him another son—she had the magic to assure it—and Ragnvald would need foster-daughters to make alliances.
The sound of the sail fluttering and then catching the wind filled Svanhild with her old, familiar longing for motion, for shore slipping by, for days consumed by the tasks of travel. Whenever she and Solvi spent too long in one court or another, this craving welled up in her—the desire to return to the freedom of the sea.
She looked up to where Harald stood in the prow of the ship, talking with one of his captains. He looked as tall and strong as he had last year coming from the bathhouse in Nidaros; his beauty took her breath away and made her face flush when she looked at him. Sometimes she felt she could only steal glances at him—looking too long was like looking into a sun that would not burn her eyes, but set her face aflame and make her foolish. Foolish enough to travel with him now, knowing that she would end the journey in his bed, tied to him by marriage. He wanted it, and Ragnvald wanted it. If she went to his bed but did not consent to be his wife, she would insult them both.
“I heard your brother could not be beaten in an oar race,” he called out to Svanhild. “Do you think I could run the oars?”
Svanhild weighed her answer, and opted for honesty. “You are too broad in the shoulder, my king. I do not think my brother could do it now either. He was much slighter then.” If Harald replied as befit a man, rather than a boy, she might marry him. If he let his pride dictate his response, she would not. Solvi could always laugh at himself.
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