In the middle of the night, Vigdis shook Sigurd’s shoulder to wake him. He had been dozing outside against the wall of a shed, wrapped in his cloak. He had not wanted to leave Hakon’s warriors for long enough to retrieve his sleeping bag from the ship.
“My lord Atli would speak with you,” she said.
“About what?”
“Ask him,” she said impatiently. “Heed him well. He is a man worth listening to, even when he is not dying.” Her voice broke, and Sigurd put an arm around her shoulder, grateful that he was not a stranger to her.
Atli’s lips were blue in the dimness. “Sigurd, thank you for coming. Please, tell your brother I kept my oath,” he said. He seemed more peaceful now than he had in the afternoon, when Vigdis still labored to save him.
“What should I do?” Sigurd asked.
“My sons will take my men to Ragnvald at Naustdal. You should lead Hakon’s there as well. They will follow you.” He took a labored breath. “Tell your brother I kept my oath,” he said again.
“He will know,” said Sigurd. “The gods will know, and Harald’s skalds will know. You will be sung of.”
“My sons—my eldest, Aldi. He would make a good steward for Sogn. Tell your brother that.”
“I will,” Sigurd promised.
“I’m sorry I embarrassed you when I came here. You are a good man. You will be a brave man, I see it.” They said that those on the edge of death could see between the worlds, and Sigurd hoped it was true. “Now send my sons back to my side,” said Atli. “My wife. And my Vigdis.”
Sigurd did as he was bid. Atli died as the sun rose. That day Atli’s sons buried him, while Sigurd spoke prayers for Hakon and marshaled some of his men to bury him as well. As an oath breaker, perhaps Hakon should be burned instead, but Vigdis said she knew the spells that would keep his corpse from walking. She spoke a few words as she tied his toes together, and they buried him facedown.
Sigurd gathered Hakon’s men to him the following day. At the funeral, he had seen uncertainty and hopelessness on their faces, and Atli’s dying words had given him the courage to speak to them. He stood on a slope, with Hakon’s men ranged below him. Those who owned armor had put it on this morning, Sigurd saw, to make themselves ready for anything that might come.
“I respected and honored Hakon as a great king and warrior,” Sigurd said. “But he betrayed his oaths, and in so doing, made all of you into oath breakers as well.” He remembered seeing Ragnvald speak, and how he put pauses into his speeches to allow men time to absorb his words, and to see how they reacted. Hakon’s men murmured to one another. “My brother, Ragnvald, is a few days’ journey away in Naustdal,” Sigurd continued. “He fights for Harald. Hakon’s son Heming guards North Maer and is also Harald’s man.” No one at Sogn could give Sigurd any reason to believe Jorunn’s testimony that Heming attacked Ragnvald. “Come with me, and redeem yourselves.”
Sigurd saw eyes brightening, along with skepticism and resignation on the grizzled faces. “You betrayed him,” called out one man.
Sigurd’s face grew hot. He must not grow defensive now. Atli had told him he could lead these men. He must show no doubt. “I followed him until he betrayed Harald,” he said. “Then I followed my hope of bringing Harald the news of his betrayal.” The faces before him still looked skeptical. “Harald is the prophesied king of all Norway. Many of you have won gold fighting in his battles. How much gold did you win fighting against him? Would you rather fight for a Swedish king, who would keep Harald weak? Fight for Solvi Hunthiofsson, another oath breaker, another betrayer? Fight for Herlaug, outlawed, criminal?”
“We need to get home to our farms,” said one of them.
“No, we don’t,” said another.
As an argument threatened to erupt, Sigurd raised a hand and tried not to show his surprise when the voices quieted. “You are Trondelag men? Halogaland men?” Agreement sounded. “Those districts lie to the north. Come north with me to Naustdal, and we will decide what to do from there. Who is with me?”
He heard shouts of assent that were louder than the grumbles so he repeated, “Who is with me? Let us pack up the ships—I promise you those same ships will take home any man who is needed on his farm, and take the rest of you to blood and gold and glory.”
They looked at him expectantly, so Sigurd took up his pack and his cloak and began running down the hill toward the ships, his heart pounding with joy when Hakon’s men surged after him.
34
Late in the summer, when Maer’s hay was drying in the fields, a scout arrived with a message for Ragnvald, telling him that four ships were approaching Naustdal, and would reach them by midafternoon. Naustdal lay on the coast near a short, narrow fjord that led to open sea through a gap in the barrier islands. After his years of living at Sogn, with a network of scouts to keep him informed of ships coming and going, Ragnvald found the swift arrival of visitors to Naustdal disconcerting. He had raised taxes on South Maer to make sure that he could support a larger number of warriors than King Vemund had in the past, and he had also asked Harald to send a shipbuilder from Tonsberg to turn Maer trees into more power to protect his coastline. Vemund had feared attack by land, and his men, who could melt into the forest and scavenge for months if necessary, had defended it well. Ragnvald’s enemies would come from the sea.
The narrow fjord leading to his hall permitted the passing of only one ship at a time, easy targets for fire arrows. These visitors did not have their shields out, and they let the afternoon’s fitful breezes push them along rather than using oars. Harald’s ships, Ragnvald assumed, though it would be strange for Harald to go south, intending to pass the winter in Tonsberg and Vestfold, and then return so quickly.
Still, Ragnvald met the ships with all of his warriors behind him, their swords and axes drawn. Heming had been visiting with some of his men, and these Ragnvald commanded to guard the hall itself, in case attack came from more than one direction. Ragnvald was surprised to see Sigurd leap down from the lead ship and run toward Ragnvald, unarmed, looking as happy as a hunting dog greeting its master. Ragnvald kept his sword out, though Sigurd did not look like a threat. He stopped only a hand’s breadth before reaching the tip of Ragnvald’s sword.
“Brother, I mean you no harm,” he said, “and neither do these men. But I have much to tell you.” Sigurd had never been good at hiding his emotions. From the look on his face, turning from joy to hurt, Ragnvald thought he could trust him. But perhaps he had learned to lie over the two years he had been gone.
“Tell me then,” said Ragnvald warily.
“These are some of Hakon’s men and also Atli’s—his eldest son is with me. Hakon and Atli are dead. Harald is in danger.” Sigurd threw up his hands. “So much has happened, I do not know where to begin.”
Before Ragnvald could react to so much information, Einar and Ivar came running down the hill behind him, and Sigurd immediately scooped them up, one under each arm. “Oof, you’re growing heavy,” he exclaimed, spinning them around while Ivar shrieked and wriggled, and Einar waited patiently for Sigurd to tire of his game and put him down so he could collect his offended dignity. Sigurd looked taller and broader than when he left, his golden beard had filled in, and he held himself more like a man, though an overgrown puppy of a man, still thirsty for praise.
Oddi had been a few paces behind Ragnvald, and now came to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. “What has happened to my father?” he asked, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“These are Hakon’s and Atli’s men?” Ragnvald asked. “And they are to be trusted?” Sigurd had brought more men than Ragnvald had ready to fight at Naustdal, though he could muster more with a few days’ warning. Behind Sigurd, men climbed down from their ships and, seeing the drawn swords of all of Ragnvald’s followers, unsheathed their own weapons. Even if Sigurd spoke the truth, the smallest misstep would lead to bloodshed.
“Command them to return to their ships and wait for my welcome,” said Ragnvald. “Once
I am satisfied that they mean no harm, they may come ashore.”
Sigurd looked troubled but nonetheless he ducked his head, and turned to address the gathered men, some still climbing down.
“My friends,” he said in a loud voice that filled the beach, “my brother, King Ragnvald, is rightly worried that so many armed men have come to his shore. He will give us hospitality once he learns the whole tale, I am sure of it. For now, return to your ships and wait there for my word.” As the warriors sheathed their swords and walked back toward the beach, Ragnvald felt a sudden burn of tears in his eyes. He could not name all that he was feeling, but a part of it was fierce happiness that Sigurd had come back to him, and pride that he had returned more of a man than he had left.
Ragnvald sheathed his sword as he saw Aldi Atlisson climb up from the shore to stand next to Sigurd. “I lead my father’s men here,” Aldi said. “I should hear whatever is said.” Ragnvald nodded. Aldi had been at the battle at Solskel, where he had been one of the few men brave enough to join Ragnvald in the decoy ships. He bore the marks of grief upon his narrow face: shadowed eyes and a sickly pallor.
“Very well,” said Ragnvald. “Sigurd, my brother, tell me what has passed.”
Sigurd related a long tale that took him across the North Sea, and into Sweden. He told of Hakon’s betrayal, Solvi and Eirik’s alliance, and a trap for Harald on the southwest coast. “It did not become clear until we reached Uppsala that Hakon meant betrayal. I let him think that I wanted my revenge upon . . . upon you, my brother, but only so he would trust me. An oath breaker is more likely to trust another oath breaker.” He raised his eyes to Ragnvald’s. “It was a lie, I swear it.”
Ragnvald put his hand on Sigurd’s shoulder. “I believe you,” he said.
Sigurd told then of the coming of Jorunn, her message, and how Solvi and Hakon had been divided over her message.
“Did you believe it?” Oddi asked.
Sigurd shrugged. “I wasn’t sure, but I knew that I must return to Ragnvald and tell him what I learned. I’m sorry, Oddi, I know he was your father, but I could not follow an oath breaker like King Hakon.”
“But you say Atli killed him?” Oddi asked. Ragnvald shot him a quelling look.
Sigurd continued, “Hakon asked Atli to join him in his betrayal by attacking you. Atli said he would not and they killed each other. It was a marvel.”
Ragnvald stumbled half a step back. He had hardly dared hope his plans would lead to this: his enemies each finding their end on the other’s blade. Jorunn had been an arrow shot blindfolded on a winter’s night, and she had found her mark.
“My father was honorable,” Aldi added, his voice low and troubled. “He fought for you, King Ragnvald. Though you never trusted him, he would not betray his oath, even to save his life.”
Sigurd nodded. “Atli proposed single combat to spare his men, and Hakon agreed. They died upon each other’s swords.”
“How did—tell me the rest,” said Ragnvald.
“Let me,” said Aldi. “A man’s finest deeds are better told by other tongues. King Ragnvald, your brother invited Hakon’s men here to erase the stain of his betrayal, and turned enemies into allies in an instant. They deserve your hospitality tonight, whoever they decide to follow tomorrow, and your stepbrother deserves your praise.”
“And they shall have it,” said Ragnvald. “Sigurd, brother, as I welcome and bless you, please welcome them on my behalf.” To Aldi he said, “You have the honor of a jarl. Your father avenged his death in the moment of its making. Odin will welcome him in Valhalla. For you, I will pour out my generosity. I had promised your father marriage between our families, now I say that your daughter shall marry my eldest son, rejoining our families. I will have other gifts of gratitude as well. Your father was a truer man than I could have hoped.”
Aldi clasped his arms and thanked him. Ragnvald sent Oddi to ask Hilda to make ready whatever feast could be managed this quickly. Happily, the cows had given bountiful milk this summer, and so the warriors were fed well with skyr and rye, stewed apples, and ale. Not a feast worthy of Harald’s table, but plain food that a man might miss after a long time shipboard. Ragnvald remembered that Sigurd loved honey cakes—he had never lost his taste for sweets as he grew into manhood—and asked Hilda to bake as many as she could.
When all had eaten their fill, Ragnvald proposed a toast. “King Harald’s vision is of a Norway of peace and concord, and you men have brought that vision ever closer tonight. Out of betrayal, you have made companionship. Out of death, you have made friendship. Tonight we feast; tomorrow we sail to Harald’s aid, for Solvi Hunthiofsson, enemy to us all, masses his allies to threaten Harald’s peace.” Some pockets of discontent greeted his toast, though most raised their glasses and drank.
After the noise from the toast quieted, and Ragnvald sat again, Oddi leaned forward and said to Sigurd, “There is much I still don’t understand about my father’s death. What word did this woman Jorunn bring?”
“She spoke of war,” said Sigurd. “She seemed as an emissary from the land of the dead, so all thought she must speak truth. Only Solvi doubted her. And it was strange, when I sailed north with the oath breaker, we heard no talk of war.”
Ragnvald glanced at Heming, who was frowning and looking at his hands, clasped around his dagger and his spoon. It was a measure of how he had changed that he did not immediately leap to challenge Sigurd for naming his father an oath breaker, no matter how true it was. Oddi looked no happier.
“Yet I find you are all well, and friends,” Sigurd added. “And Atli died defending Sogn for you. Oddi, I know no more than that.”
Aldi leaned forward so he could speak in Ragnvald’s ear. “My father was brave, and fought as he swore he would. He was loyal to you. I do not know that King Hakon’s other sons can say the same. This must be decided, if not tonight, then tomorrow. Some things cannot go unsaid.”
“I agree,” said Ragnvald, quickly, measuring hostilities. He felt sure of Oddi, but was less so of Heming. The men who had followed Sigurd here were still more Hakon’s men than his. Loyalties needed to be declared soon, before they joined any battles together. Ragnvald would not punish anyone for following Hakon in the past and never, as Harald had, with slavery and maiming. Any who did not want to be part of Harald’s army should be sent home to Halogaland where they could wait out the coming battles.
Ragnvald rose again, and spoke to the men in his hall, who he could now see had divided themselves into groups, Hakon’s and Atli’s, turning away from one another. “Much has occurred, and much needs to be thought over. You are all welcome here in Naustdal, and while you are on my lands, you will behave as friends. I am sure that there are many different thoughts and desires in this room, loyalties that may conflict. These are murky waters.” He waited until he heard murmured agreement, and continued. “We are lucky to have so many wise heads here to chart our course: Hakon’s elder sons, Atli’s son, my brother Sigurd.” Sigurd smiled, flushed with drink.
Ragnvald sent up a prayer that they would all remain on Harald’s side. He did not know who else stood against Harald, except Solvi, and some Swedish allies, which he had known before. He must question Sigurd further, but matters could not be discussed before so many armed men who owed allegiance to different kings.
“Sigurd has brought important news for King Harald, to whom I owe my loyalty,” he continued. “I do not know what made Hakon abandon Harald, but his sons Heming and Oddi have always been Harald’s faithful allies. This is what binds us now. Feast, sleep, and repair your tack. If some of you want to go hunting before you eat up all my stores and have to dine on the benches”—some laughter sounded at this—“that would be useful.” Ragnvald looked around the room, trying to read the faces. He saw weariness and confusion on some of the warriors, while others appeared tensed for a fight.
“For now,” he said, raising his glass, “another toast, this one to Sigurd Olafsson, scout, warrior, and brother—brave, loyal, and true!”
All stood and raised their glasses. In this, at least, they were united. Ragnvald glanced at Heming, who wore a bemused expression, as though he did not know how to feel—natural enough, with the news of his father’s death and dishonor still fresh. He must watch Heming for when that brew might boil over. Oddi sat staring into his goblet. It took him even longer to come to his feet than it did Heming. Finally, he raised his hand in a toast as well, his expression dark, and only then did Ragnvald take a drink.
* * *
After the feast was over, Ragnvald left the drinking hall to go to his bed where Alfrith waited for him. He was happy almost to the point of giddiness that his plan had worked so well, and even brought Sigurd back to him, though he must keep a close guard over his emotions to avoid offending Heming and Oddi. He would have to go to war, but Solvi was weakened, and might finally be defeated. The gods smiled upon him. Alfrith would welcome him eagerly into her bed tonight, at this point in her pregnancy, though her sickness had prevented it earlier.
Oddi walked toward him in the dark between the buildings, his face blue in the twilight, shadowed by his dark hair. He grabbed Ragnvald’s arm tightly, almost as if he might fall down without support, though when Ragnvald went to steady him, Oddi shrugged him off with a violent shudder. He had never, in Ragnvald’s memory, laid hands on Ragnvald like that, not even when they had been equals—or at least when the distance between their stations had been impossible to determine: base-born son of a king and true-born son of a dead jarl. As soon as Ragnvald was named king of Sogn at the ting, with Harald by his side, Oddi had deferred to him, and Ragnvald had blessed him for it, for where Oddi went, other men followed. It had come to seem natural to Ragnvald that he should walk before Oddi, and Oddi should serve his interests, for Ragnvald looked out for him better than his father or brothers ever had.
“That was a strange story Sigurd told,” Oddi said, his voice rough. Ragnvald stared at Oddi’s hand on his bicep until Oddi let go.
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