Solvi would only be happy if Svanhild went with him, Ragnvald knew, but Svanhild must know that as well, and it would do no good to speak of it. Ragnvald had been holding his hurt at bay during the battle, and now that he did not even have others’ fighting to distract him, he could feel every cut and bruise, the throb of twisted fingers, the ache of weeks sleeping on hard ground, woken frequently for more abuse, a body made weak by thirst and starvation.
Svanhild’s men had killed some of those who had witnessed his shame. Many of the rest were prisoners, and Harald would let Ragnvald kill them if he wanted to. Harald’s ships towed Solvi’s captured convoy toward the shore. He would take some of Solvi’s men as slaves, and hold others for ransom. Ragnvald might ask for those slaves and sacrifice them in thanks to the war gods. Or he might sleep.
* * *
Harald embraced Svanhild when he saw her, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. Then he frowned and held her at arm’s length. “What have you done, Svanhild?” he asked.
“I took a ship—said you had given the order,” she said. Ragnvald had never seen anyone defy Harald more calmly. Even Hakon had not been that brave. “It was I who noticed the spikes in the channel that sank ten of your ships.”
“We’re hauling them out,” said Harald. “They will be repaired.”
“It was I who rescued my brother Ragnvald,” Svanhild continued, as if Harald had not spoken. “I promised my men an arm ring each for their bravery, and they have deserved it.”
“What of Solvi Hunthiofsson?” asked Oddi. “We cannot find him anywhere.”
“He must have been on one of the ships that escaped,” said Harald. “Next summer we must find him. He cannot be allowed to live and attack Norway again.”
Svanhild’s chest rose with a deep breath. She must know that the tale would be told. Too many of her men had seen it. Better to tell Harald now. “I let him go,” she said.
The roar of voices drowned out whatever Harald said in answer. He held up a hand and waited for quiet. His face looked as though it had been hewn from stone, set and hard, drained of color. “You let him go?” he repeated.
Ragnvald stepped forward to try to take some of the blame, but Svanhild stopped him with a raised hand. He was glad to let her take command now.
“He was my husband once,” said Svanhild. “He is the father of my daughter. I made him swear in terms he cannot betray that he will trouble Norway no more.”
Harald looked as though the triumph of this day, the death of all of Solvi’s allies, the victory over even the king of Sweden, had been for naught.
“A woman’s kind heart,” said Oddi nervously. “Blame me, King Harald, for letting her take a ship. She has the skill, but not the judgment.”
“Blame me,” said Ragnvald. “I was there and I allowed it to happen.”
“No,” said Svanhild, quietly, but in a tone that allowed no more argument. “It was my decision. Punish me if you wish. I will not argue it if you wish a divorce. I don’t think you will lose my brother if you choose that. I will deserve it.”
“If I do, will you go to him?” Harald asked.
Ragnvald saw a shadow cross Svanhild’s face. He had never seen anything like the reaction that Svanhild and Solvi had to each other, as if they were one person in two bodies that it offended the gods to keep separate. In his fatigue, he thought that if Svanhild said she would go to Solvi, he would make sure they reached each other. She had rescued Ragnvald and fought a battle for him. She deserved whatever reward she desired.
“I bear your son,” said Svanhild finally. “I will not put a weapon against you into that man’s hands.”
“You do,” said Harald. He looked like a boy again, grateful to have been given the opportunity to save face. He spoke loudly, so all of his followers could hear: “My son will have the boldest mother of any woman living. He cannot help but be a warrior king with such parents.” He spread his arms for Svanhild, who went to his side. His men cheered before returning to their ale and battle reminiscences.
She was a good queen for him, Ragnvald thought. Both had the sense of ceremony and occasion that drew all eyes. Her answer had been both truthful and politic.
Harald’s voice rang out over the crowd again. “Today, with your help, I have made all of Norway my kingdom, your kingdom, our kingdom. All my enemies are dead, save one. But what kind of king would I be if I allowed him to live and threaten us? I swore seven years ago that I would not cut my hair or shave my beard until I had put all of Norway under my rulership, and I say my rule is not complete until Solvi Hunthiofsson is dead. Next summer, we will root him out wherever he is, and spread his entrails over the ground. Who is with me?”
The cheers that sounded told Ragnvald that every man was. He had the excuse of his wounds to do little more than give Harald a weak smile.
During the feast that night Ragnvald sat by a fire, eating slow spoonfuls of porridge fed him by Svanhild. If he ate any faster, he would make himself sick. His hands, throbbing with pain, and itching as they healed misshapen, would not serve him. He could at least move all his fingers, which meant that with the help of a healer, more pain, and hard work, he would hold a sword again. Svanhild had made her tent near his so she could help with anything he needed.
Sigurd spoke of how he had killed Herlaug in the battle, avenging Jorunn, and making Arnfast’s family safe. Ragnvald would need to help Harald understand why Hakon’s betrayal should be hidden in the songs the skalds made so Harald could keep the honor of his ally. It would let Hakon’s sons—Heming and Oddi at least—keep their family’s honor as well.
“So it is not done,” said Ragnvald to Svanhild when a lull in the stories and toasts allowed him to speak quietly. “I had hoped . . .”
“Harald will not catch Solvi,” said Svanhild. “And what do I care if he cuts his hair or not?” She tossed her own hair out of her face. It had come loose from its braid during the day of battle. “It looks wild and handsome this way.”
“Who do you think he will drag across the North Sea looking for Solvi?” Ragnvald asked. He had never felt more tired. “I wanted so much for it to be over.”
“Harald will not find him,” said Svanhild. “And while I am making sure of that, I will also make sure that you have time to build up your kingdom again.”
“You believe you will have so much influence?” Ragnvald asked. “I think Harald is angry with you.”
“I think Harald will hear the songs they sing of me, and forgive me,” said Svanhild. She gave him a conspiratorial smile. “A man can always forgive a woman for being too tenderhearted.”
Ragnvald smiled back at her. Tomorrow he must speak to Harald about Sogn, find out who Harald intended to rule all the land that Hakon had claimed, for petty warlords would, even now, be positioning themselves to take power. Tomorrow he must submit to healers who would rebreak his fingers and set them straight. Tonight, though, he let Svanhild fetch him more porridge. On the other side of the bonfire, Harald grinned and gestured, telling the story of his triumph.
He saw Ragnvald watching, and raised his glass. Ragnvald nodded slowly, his shoulder muscles protesting. Harald stood and came over to join him, sitting between him and Svanhild.
“You should not have to rise tonight, even for me. I am glad you are well, my friend.” He tugged Svanhild into his lap. “My mother said you would suffer much in service of your vision, my Norway,” Harald added.
“I didn’t know she told you that,” said Ragnvald. It had seemed a secret between him and Ronhild that Harald did not need to learn.
“She did,” he said. “You did not fight in this battle, yet I see your hand in everything that occurred.” He frowned at Svanhild. “Well, almost everything. I asked you to fight for me again and you have ended my fighting forever, at least on these shores.”
“There will always be raiders, squabbles,” said Ragnvald. “Do not curse the peace just yet.”
“Curse it? I bless it. I have sons who do not know me
, and more on the way. I have a kingdom to rule, and the best men to aid me. And you have suffered much. Name your reward and you shall have it.”
“Sogn,” said Ragnvald. “I want only to return.”
“I wanted to give you all of Maer to rule,” said Harald. “Heming must go north to Halogaland and secure his rule of his father’s land.”
“What of Oddi?” Ragnvald asked.
“He does not want to be a king,” said Harald.
Ragnvald bowed his head. He would make no more decisions for Oddi.
“Sogn is yours,” said Harald. “But perhaps you will let Atli’s son guard it for you, while you preserve Maer. If Solvi returns to our shores again, it will be there.”
Ragnvald sighed and looked at Oddi across the fire, sitting next to Aldi. Aldi had suffered the most from Ragnvald’s plotting—his father, Atli, had fallen by Ragnvald’s machinations, and he had deserved better. Let his son hold Sogn while Ragnvald defended Maer from Solvi’s old seat. He could live with that. Svanhild, curled in Harald’s lap, her eyes closing, lived with a greater sacrifice.
Author’s Note
The Sea Queen is a work of fiction that takes its inspiration from “The Saga of Harald Harfagr” in Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla, The Saga of the Kings of Norway. The Sea Queen incorporates more historical events than The Half-Drowned King—or at least events attested to in the Heimskringla. Solvi’s defeat at the battle of Solskel and Harald’s triumph over all of his enemies at Haversfjord are considered key moments in the founding of Norway. Hakon and Atli did indeed find their ends on each other’s swords.
However, ninth-century Norway is only beginning to emerge from myth into written history. Most of the existing sources for the life of Harald and his contemporaries were written many centuries later. Ninth-century Norway did not have written language other than runes, the angular writing found on Viking markers like the Danish Jelling stones, which were raised in memory of great deeds and departed family. Runes in Viking-age Norway were used for fortune-telling, as well as marking some religious and other monuments, but not for historical record keeping.
In the thirteenth century the Icelander Snorri Sturluson, a historian, poet, and politician, would write down the Heimskringla, and many other sagas. The Heimskringla, based on oral tradition, almost certainly has gaps and inaccuracies. Furthermore, many scholars believe that Snorri Sturluson used the saga to make certain implicit arguments about Iceland’s political situation at the time, leading him to highlight some stories and leave out others. The works of Saxo Grammaticus, a twelfth-century Danish historian, and Historia Norwegiae, a history of Norway written in the thirteenth century by an anonymous Scandinavian monk, also attest to Harald’s conquest of Norway and his reign, while focusing on different aspects of the events than the Heimskringla.
In writing The Sea Queen, I have used the stories in the Heimskringla as a jumping-off point, and also asked myself what might have been the real events behind the stories that Snorri Sturluson and others passed on and recorded. My sources mention Ragnvald, Harald, Svanhild, Solvi, and many others, but I have invented aspects of these figures’ relationships—such as Svanhild and Solvi’s romantic involvement—and also invented some new characters, like Ragnvald’s stepmother, Vigdis, and his man-at-arms Arnfast. Still, those wishing to avoid spoilers for the rest of the trilogy should probably avoid Wikipedia and the Heimskringla.
Names
Because so many names and name parts are repeated in the history of Harald Fairhair, I’ve had to make some tough choices. For instance, Ragnvald’s brother Sigurd (here I’ve made him a stepbrother) shares his name with many other Sigurds, including a son of Hakon Grjotgardsson. It would be terribly confusing to have two important characters named Sigurd in a novel, so Hakon’s eldest son takes the name of one of his other sons, Heming.
Similarly, the prefix Ragn- (meaning “council, wisdom, or power”) is found in the names of many characters in Harald’s saga. For the sake of clarity, I’ve used the spelling Ronhild rather than Ragnhild for Harald’s mother. I also shortened the name of Ragnvald’s betrothed, Ragnhild(a), to Hilda, again for clarity.
Old Norse—similar to modern Scandinavian languages—is an inflected language, meaning it has noun cases. Old Norse names in the nominative case, the case used when the person is the subject of a sentence, end with the suffix -r, so Ragnvald would be Ragnvaldr (sometimes transliterated Ragnvaldur). For ease of pronunciation, in most instances I have omitted the -r suffix, and used more anglicized versions of the names without diacritics, e.g. I use Solvi rather than Sölvi.
Sources
Here are a few, but not nearly all, of the books I have found valuable in researching Viking Age Norway and early medieval Europe. This includes works used for researching The Half-Drowned King as well. Christie Ward’s Viking Answer Lady website, www.vikinganswerlady.com, is also a useful resource.
Bagge, Sverre. From Viking Stronghold to Christian Kingdom: State Formation in Norway, c. 900–1350. Museum Tusculanum Press, 2010.
Bauer, Susan Wise. The History of the Medieval World: From the Conversion of Constantine to the First Crusade. New York: W. W. Norton, 2010.
Davidson, Hilda Ellis. Gods and Myths of Northern Europe. New York: Penguin, 1990.
———. Roles of the Northern Goddess. London: Routledge, 2002.
Fitzhugh, William W., and Elisabeth I. Ward, eds. Vikings: The North Atlantic Saga, Washington, DC: Smithsonian, 2000.
Foote, Peter G., and David M. Wilson. The Viking Achievement: The Society and Culture of Early Medieval Scandinavia. London: Book Club Associates, 1974.
Griffith, Paddy. The Viking Art of War. London: Greenhill, 1995.
Hjaltalin, Jon A., and Gilbert Goudie, trans. The Orkneyinga Saga. Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas, 1873.
Jesch, Judith. Women in the Viking Age. Woodbridge, England: Boydell, 1991.
Jochens, Jenny. Women in Old Norse Society. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1995.
Jones, Gwyn. A History of the Vikings. Oxford, England: Oxford University Press, 1984.
Larrington, Carolyne, trans. The Poetic Edda. Oxford, England: Oxford University Press, 2014.
Lindow, John. Norse Mythology: A Guide to Gods, Heroes, Rituals, and Beliefs. New York: Oxford University Press, 2002.
Short, William R. Icelanders in the Viking Age: The People of the Sagas. McFarland and Company, 2010.
Sturluson, Snorri. Heimskringla; or, The Lives of the Norse Kings. Translated by Erling Monson. New York: Dover, 1990.
Thurston, Tina L. Landscapes of Power, Landscapes of Conflict: State Formation in the South Scandinavian Iron Age. Kluwer Academic Publishers, 2002.
Wells, Peter S. Barbarians to Angels: The Dark Ages Reconsidered. New York: W. W. Norton, 2009.
Acknowledgments
The Sea Queen represents the continuation of a long process of research, travel, and writing. It owes much to the support of my husband, Seth Miller, my parents, Mark and Karen Hartsuyker, and my sister, Julianna Lower. My early readers, Nicole Cunningham, Laura Brown, and Peng Shepherd, all provided invaluable feedback. Publicist Heather Drucker, marketing director Katie O’Callaghan, publisher Jonathan Burnham, and deputy publisher Doug Jones, as well as Milan Bozic, Patrick Arrasmith, and Shelly Perron, did beautiful work to bring this book out into the world. And finally, my editors, Terry Karten and Clare Smith, shaped this book mightily, as did my agent, Julie Barer. I could not have done it without you.
About the Author
LINNEA HARTSUYKER can trace her family lineage back to the first king of Norway, and this inspired her to write her debut novel, The Half-Drowned King, the first book in her trilogy about the Vikings, which was published by HarperCollins in the United States and internationally in six other countries. The Half-Drowned King was an Indie Next and a Barnes & Noble Discover pick, and was named the best historical fiction book of 2017 by the American Library Association. Linnea grew up in the woods outside Ithaca, New York, studied en
gineering at Cornell University, and later received an MFA in creative writing from New York University.
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Copyright
the sea queen. Copyright © 2018 by Linnea Hartsuyker. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Digital Edition AUGUST 2018 ISBN: 978-0-06-256375-0
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-256373-6
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