Islands in the Fog

by Jerry Autieri

"You would do well to mind that wicked tongue of yours, woman, or ...,"

  "Or? Are you going to put my head on a spear? Throw me from a cliff? I'm interested in knowing what you will do, husband. We've not had such a discussion before."

  Hardar felt his temples throbbing, the heat emanating from his face. He kept his voice low, mindful that only plain cloth separated him from the people outside. "Then maybe it's time we did. You are supposed to be my beautiful wife, supporting and ever at my side. But you're cowering in here with a slave girl, doing your hair. And for what? If you're not seen with me, what good is finely dressed hair? People need to see us united and happy. But you did not follow me when I left. You did not go with me to the sacrifices. You sent my daughter away on a tour. People could mistake this to mean you don't agree with me."

  "Maybe I don't agree with you."

  His limit reached, he sprung to his feet. Hardar was a barrel of a man, thick and rough, but he moved with the speed of a young deer. Ingrid's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, apologies tumbling out like broken teeth. He seized a hank of Ingrid's fine hair and jerked her head back. He thrust his face into hers as he hissed.

  "You better fucking agree with me from now until the end of time. You better show your pretty face at my side whenever I'm in public, and fucking smile. You think because you're away from home that I won't teach you a lesson?"

  Hardar wound his grip tighter into her hair, down to the roots, and twisted. Ingrid's face contorted with the pain. But she did not cry out. He pulled again, a stifled squeal escaping Ingrid's gnashed teeth. Then he released her with a shove, dumping her from the stool to the grass. He hovered over her, his hands flexing, itching to strike her for her insolence.

  "I will suffer no more humiliation on this trip. Stop sniffling and straighten up again. I'll come back for you when I'm ready."

  Ingrid's defiance had vanished and she cowered meekly on the floor. Hardar smiled, satisfied that his woman had returned to her proper spot. He wagged Ingrid's hairs out of his hand, then turned to leave. But she apparently had not finished.

  "You are so possessed with glory and status. But you forget your roots. Until you married me, until you took my family's gifts, you had nothing. My father made you rich."

  Hardar paused, turned back to face Ingrid. "That was half a lifetime ago. You know that wealth didn't last until today."

  Ingrid coughed out a laugh. "No, but you managed to get all of it, didn't you? And my father went to his grave thinking he hadn't given you enough. You're the greatest jarl in all the islands now, Hardar. What a disgrace for all of us."

  In one bound he was upon her, his hand striking out. Ingrid's head snapped back with a meaty crack and she sprawled sideways. She didn't scream, having braced herself. She lay with her face in the grass, convulsing with sobs. Hardar had endured her complaint often enough, and had beaten her for it every time. Yet the fool woman never learned. He regretted striking her now; the blow would leave a mark and others would judge what he had done. It angered him even more. Ingrid was normally obedient after a beating, and this obstinate display was both confusing and a surprise. He knelt beside her, but only so she could hear his whispers.

  "This place has even turned you against me. I swear this land is cursed. Ulfrik must have a witch in his company, weaving spells on the minds of his guests. Only I see clearly. I will forgive you this time. But don't dishonor your father's memory with careless words. And don't dishonor me for what I achieved with your father's gifts. I made us a great name in these lands."

  Ingrid continued to tremble with her stifled crying. Hardar reached to stroke her shoulder, but his hand stalled and withdrew. He lumbered to his feet and exited the tent. Ingrid would understand her place once she had time alone to think.

  "That roasting meat smells delicious. I could eat one of 'em all for myself!" Dag the Sword-Bender patted his stomach and smiled.

  "Go fall into the fire pit!" Hardar shot back. He had wearied of the praise for Nye Grenner. His own hirdman now even seemed taken with Ulfrik and his lands.

  Dag dropped his head, folding his chin into his thickly braided beard. "Forgive me, lord."

  "Be useful and find my daughter. Jarl Vermund and I need privacy."

  Dag nodded, his creased and broad face eager to please his lord. He trotted off across the grass. Hardar watched him go. The lines of beige tents soon hid him. Beyond the tents, the sky was marbled with clouds that tumbled down to the horizon. He turned away and sneered at the smoke rising from the field behind Nye Grenner's new buildings. The shoulders of the mountains rose tall and purple in the distance.

  "This place is cursed, Vermund. A witch hides here and weaves a spell over the minds of the guests. Even my wife is not immune. There is nothing great about this place, and Lord Ulfrik is a whelp who has overstepped his station."

  The wind whipped around them, filling Hardar's ears with noise. He and Vermund observed the guests, most of them already drunk and falling over each other. Two men had started a wrestling match, which attracted a crowd that gambled on the outcome. A mass of children suddenly broke into a run, squealing and laughing and waving wooden swords overhead. The guests of his festivals had never shown as much camaraderie.

  "How many drunken brawls have I had to end?" He waited for Vermund's answer, but his companion only gave a quizzical look. "I mean during the festivals. Gods, every year a new feud is kindled. But this year, nothing but peace! The whelp Ulfrik doesn't even understand what this festival means. He's not one of us, truly. He's a foreigner."

  Vermund shifted uneasily. Hardar gave him a sideways look, judging his old friend to be of a different opinion. "What? Not you too, Vermund!"

  "Not at all." Vermund's voice was shark-skin rough. Of an age with Hardar, Vermund wore the years just as heavily, showing not only in his voice but in the falling lines of his face and the gray streaks of his tightly braided hair.

  "Then what? Ulfrik and these people of his, they're crawling over our lands like ants on a bone. Every year more come from Norway, settling here and taking what they will. It's disgusting."

  "Several have settled in my lands. They've been good people."

  "Well that's just it! You guide them and show them how to cooperate! You make them one of us. But here I see warships and mail and weapons. And an arrogant boy gloating over me like he rules these lands."

  "But he does rule these lands. That is, these lands were free lands to be settled."

  Hardar grumbled in his chest, folded his arms and returned to scanning the crowds. He had this final day to endure before he returned home. He spotted Ulfrik, now changed out of his robes. He stood at the center of a large group, apparently entertaining them with some wild, made-up story. Hardar felt his eye throbbing, as if just looking upon him injured it again.

  "Vermund, this trip has given me much to consider. When this festival is done, I need to know who my friends are. Look at this upstart, taking this festival that I allowed him to host as an opportunity to build alliances. For what? He has the largest fleet, the most warriors, the greatest fucking people in the whole fucking circle of the world!"

  Hardar stopped, realizing he had started yelling. Nearby people glanced in his direction. Vermund remained silent, squinting as the sun poked from behind a cloud. Hardar nervously smoothed his beard and smiled again. "This place is getting to me."

  Vermund nodded and started to walk off. Hardar followed, hands clasped behind his back. They headed nowhere, just to leave the scene of Hardar's outburst. Once out of sight from others, he renewed their conversation.

  "If Ulfrik is smart in building his alliances, he could cause me trouble. Ragnvald is nearly in bed with Ulfrik, if you can't see that yourself."

  "I see it. You haven't said a thing I've not thought of myself. I don't like the whelp either, or his rat-eyed companions. The one called Toki is a spoiled child. As far as I'm concerned, you have my support if it comes to removing Ulfrik. All these weapons and men so close can't be any good for
us. A true danger, it is."

  "Good to count you as a friend. With all this foolishness," Hardar swiped a hand across backdrop of Nye Grenner, "I can't know who has been duped."

  They walked further, headed toward the rocks of the shore where the visiting ships were beached. He gazed out along the sparkling water. Gray green cliffs across the fjord spread like a stripe on the horizon. North beyond those cliffs his home awaited. He started to think on his own hall, so dark and empty compared to Ulfrik's. But before his mood could blacken further, Vermund broke into his thoughts.

  "Hardar, I have a matter to discuss with you. I've been meaning to ask since arriving here. There hasn't been a moment until now."

  Hardar felt a smile growing on his face, and his mood lifted. "Go on, old friend. I believe I know your question. But I'll hear it from you."

  He turned and regarded Vermund. He stood lean and proud, a strong jarl of the old families of the islands. His hairline had crawled back, and his eyes were now ringed with dark circles. Time's wretched hand clawed all men. But Hardar could still see the strong war leader of decades ago. Vermund straightened himself, a faint smile on his wide mouth.

  "I have long been alone since the terrible events that left me as an heirless widower. This past winter was cold and lonely. I took a woman to my bed, but she is nothing to me. Not a woman for starting a new life. Your daughter is unwed, a lucky thing for me. I would ask your permission to court her."

  Vermund asked with all the confidence of a man who already knew the answer. He smiled, and Hardar mirrored it. He could hardly consider a better match, tying his family ever closer to the old families with their connections across the islands. Vermund was also wealthy, and maintained a core of fighting men. Hardar's smile continued to stretch across his face.

  "I would grant that permission, and wish you much luck."

  "Thank you, old friend. She is a charming woman, as beautiful as her mother."

  "But more spirited. Be warned there."

  Vermund chuckled. "I know it well. I remember when you tried to marry her to Erp."

  "I thought she would kill me, and she was only twelve! Now she's a woman and twice as headstrong. But you will be a good match for her, Vermund."

  Both men laughed and turned back toward the celebration. Hardar only had to endure one more feast before escaping Nye Grenner and start plotting its downfall.

  The jarls, their families, and their men assembled along the rocks at the shore, standing in dark clumps before their ships. Their murmuring voices mingled with the gentle rumble of the waves and the call of seabirds. The sun hung fat and yellow in the west, throwing half their bodies into the sharp shadow of the ridgeline. Ulfrik stood up the slope from them, his own shadow a deep triangular blot that stretched before him.

  "Have you prepared everything?" he asked Toki as he scanned the assembled guests once more.

  "Listen to my answer this time. Yes, I've seen to everything you've said."

  Ulfrik shot Toki a scowl. "Have care with your words in public. And I was speaking to the men and the gifts."

  "Aye, I was speaking to the same. Just relax, Ulfrik. You're a better man when you're not pretending to be lord of the world."

  Ulfrik flinched at the truth of the words. He turned and gave a sheepish look to Runa, who stood silently at his side. She smiled, holding Gunnar who was falling asleep on her shoulder. "Am I that bad?"

  "Listen to my brother. He's right for once."

  The departure of the guests was as important as their arrival. Ulfrik knew their final impressions would carry long after the event. As such, he arranged for a send-off unlike anything he had ever seen Hardar do. Ulfrik knew he was deliberately outdoing Hardar, and that it was unnecessary. But after Hardar's outburst, Ulfrik wanted to ensure his rival felt humbled.

  Ulfrik thought on Runa and Toki's advice, and nodded to himself. "I hate it when Toki is right. Let's see off our guests and return to our lives, eh?"

  "Never better words spoken," Toki agreed. Runa nudged Gunnar, who fussed and tried to get comfortable.

  Ulfrik called the jarls together, which was also Snorri's signal to march out the men and parting gifts. Ulfrik turned to watch his men, dressed in mail and helmets scoured to a bright finish, file out from behind the hall and down the slope. Snorri led them, two men behind carrying a chest of gifts to bestow upon his fellow jarls.

  Surprise rippled through the ranks of the guests. The jarls of the islands had all given gifts upon their arrival, as was customary. But it was unheard of for the host of the summer festival to bestow gifts of his own. The sacrifices and costs of the celebrations were considered enough.

  Ulfrik moved down slope, gesturing for Runa and Toki to follow. Gunnar now stood on the grass, staring at the massing of the armored warriors. The jarls were also impressed and left their ships to draw together. Ulfrik saw Hardar and his family hover at the back. His swollen face was pulled into a frown.

  "Friends, your company has been most enjoyable. The people of Nye Grenner will ever remember these days. I've prepared some small items for each of you. Tokens to commemorate this year's festival. But also as thanks for the support we have seen from all of you. Many of us are strangers here. You have welcomed us to the lands, and helped us flourish."

  Appreciative nods circled around, many men agreeing with the honor shown them. All men seek honor, even if not truly earned. Ulfrik knew he stretched the truth; many of the jarls had never offered help. Some had even ignored him. But those men now smiled and waited to extend their hands for whatever Ulfrik would place in them.

  His men formed a semicircle behind him, three ranks deep. He had eighty fighting men, twice the number of any other jarl. They stood with arms clasped behind their backs. Ulfrik wanted a show of force but not one too intimidating. Snorri and his son, Einar, placed the chest beside Ulfrik. He gave an appreciative look to all the gathered jarls, then opened the chest. Some of the less refined men craned to see what had been revealed. Ulfrik smiled and began to call forward each jarl to receive his gift.

  Most of the jarls were appreciative. Some lacked fine words, caught by surprise. The gifts were not trifles, Ulfrik having selected pieces from his personal horde. Snorri had warned him not to show too much wealth, fearing it would draw trouble. But Ulfrik felt the eighty men in mail coats counterbalanced it.

  He left Hardar for last, both to draw out the suspense and to ensure others would be distracted with their own gifts. But when he called Hardar, many paused to watch the exchange.

  Hardar stirred as if he hadn't been paying attention. He looked at his wife, Ingrid, who stared blankly at him. Then he drew a breath and came forward, as if curiosity had stirred him to action. Ulfrik smirked. This is a worm tearing at your gut, Hardar, he thought. I bet you can't beat this next year.

  The crowd watched as Hardar lumbered to stand before Ulfrik. He studied Hardar, trying to make his own expression open but cool. There was still the matter of Hardar's accusation, and the required apology. Ulfrik wanted to seem the better man in this conflict.

  Hardar's eyes were two gray stones set into fleshy pouches, searching Ulfrik's face and betraying as little of his thoughts as possible. Ulfrik held that gaze, letting the rest of his vision turn to a blur. Hardar shifted, glancing across to Runa and Gunnar at his side. Ulfrik decided he did not like that, though did not understand why. A tiny sneer curled on Hardar's lips, his pug nose making him look like a leering pig. Finally he spoke.

  "Your thoughtfulness and generosity are boundless, Lord Ulfrik. Truly you are a credit to your people." He paused, as if waiting for Ulfrik's response. Ulfrik inclined his head, but withheld his words. Hardar shrugged and continued. He raised his voice so others could hear. "I spoke rash words at the feast. Drink clouded my mind, and I was exhausted from our wrestling match. I apologize."

  Ulfrik peered at him. Hardar's eyes did not meet his own but ranged about the men behind him. The words were insincere, he did not doubt. But he forced his smile. "Let us pu
t it up to drink and forget unhappy memories."

  Many men agreed, though some held their faces cold. Jarl Vermund smiled wickedly, enough to distract Ulfrik a moment. Then Hardar moved in front of him, breaking Ulfrik's sight. "Well said, Jarl Ulfrik."

  "Now I have a gift prepared for you." Ulfrik reached into the box and removed a golden cloak pin. Hardar's own pin was only silver, and had two settings of which one had lost its jewel. Men who could see gasped at the value. Even Hardar stepped back in surprise.

  "I cannot accept a gift so precious," he said stiffly.

  "I'll not hear of it," Ulfrik said. "You are my closest neighbor, and the first in honor among us all. It is only in accordance to you station. Please accept it."

  Hardar paused, regarding Ulfrik with a hard stare. Ulfrik suppressed a smile, enjoying the discomfort he inflicted on his rival. To refuse would shame him, and to accept would make reciprocating a great expense. At last he held out his hand to receive the gift. But he whispered as he did. "You haven't bought me, nor the others."

  "I buy no man, but win their loyalty through my own merit," Ulfrik replied, matching the whisper.

  The two men separated, and a few of the more naive in the crowd clapped. Hardar stepped away with a smile that did nothing more than show his black and yellow teeth. No warmth came from it.

  Ulfrik spoke more fine words, and many of the jarls gave their own speeches. But soon the guests set sail. One by one they launched their ships into the gentle waves of the fjord. Oars poked out and dipped into the water. Hardar had the largest ship, and remained the last to depart. He assisted his wife and daughter up the gangplank and followed without a glance back. Once the ship lurched to sea, only his bright-haired daughter came to the stern to wave once more. Ulfrik and Runa both waved back.

  "You've done a fine job ensuring you've made an enemy of our closest neighbor," Runa mumbled.

  "He's just full of himself. Someone had to wake him up from that daydream. We're the new power in this land, wife."