Yngvar waited for more, but Alrik said nothing. A warm sense of relief spread from his chest. "I would be honored to represent you to King Hakon."
Alrik bowed his head. "That is well, but you are not representing me."
Of course he was not. He was being sent to fill out ranks in a shield wall or a ship for the king's fleet. His name would not be heard by the king, and he would be lost amid hundreds and maybe thousands of other warriors. He blinked at the realization, and Alrik pursed his lips.
"It's not permanent," Alrik said. "But with your presence here, my job of protecting this coast is much harder. Your bounty is a distraction. But Erik's reach does not extend to Vestfold. In fact, he is hated more there than anywhere else. You might find yourself regarded as a hero. In any case, you will be safer there and pressure here will be relieved. After a while, men will forget your bounty and your name. You can return to me without issue."
Licking his lips, Yngvar considered his options. He could not disobey, as Alrik was not asking his opinion. He was not reasonably going to be greeted by King Hakon, though he would be close enough to him that he might have a chance to be noticed. A thousand other hopeful men would have the same thought, of course.
"You say the king wants men, lord. So it's not just me?" Alrik shook his head. "Then if they are willing, I would want Thorfast, Bjorn, and Alasdair to accompany me."
"Of course. This is not a punishment. Pick your crew. To ease your burden, I will make it clear to all that you act with my authority. The crew will answer to you and give you their oaths for the time you serve. It will not be all bad."
Yngvar nodded, now feeling better. Jarl Alrik stood, patted his shoulder, then gave it a squeeze. "It really is hard to send such talented young men away. I could have sent the king all my troubles, but I am giving him my best. I don't doubt you will try to persuade all the most capable men to follow you."
"If Thorfast gets to convince them, then I don't see much hope for them remaining with you."
Alrik gave a gusty laugh. "Don't pluck from my hirdmen, but take the best of the others. Let's show King Hakon how our warriors outshine all the others."
By nightfall Yngvar was excited for his new assignment, as were his fellow wolves. Alrik made his announcements at the feast, and while all applauded, few were eager to follow Yngvar yet. Those of his original crew were of course first to join. But more were needed before they could sail.
By the end of the night Yngvar introduced himself to the warrior who had accompanied the priest. He would lead them back to King Hakon now that he had delivered his priest.
"I am Yngvar Hakonsson. You might have heard I bested Erik Blood-Axe last summer and put a sword through his leg."
Expecting a warm welcome from the warrior, Yngvar was surprised when he rolled his eyes and left the hall without a word.
"Looks like that's not something to brag about," Thorfast said, standing behind Yngvar in the half-emptied hall.
It was a small slight, and Yngvar was perhaps a bit drunk. But it left him uneasy about what he would really meet in Vestfold.
CHAPTER SIX
The greatness of Alrik's send-off well behind him, Yngvar stood at the steering board of his new old ship and guided it into the harbor. Truth was he did not feel expert at these maneuvers and he left the steering to others more capable. But today when the sky was gray and the clouds misted cool rain and the white caps battled his rudder, he decided to steer. He had an esteemed guest on his ship.
Rognvald Broken-Tooth sat on his sea chest against the mast, the man sent by King Hakon to fetch Alrik's required warriors and ships. His strong arms were folded across his chest as he scowled out at the gray water. Whatever pleasant first impression he had left Yngvar had vanished under an impatient and aloof demeanor. Rognvald had no broken teeth to his namesake, and so Yngvar guessed he broke enemy teeth. Doubtless he was a fierce warrior. But as a sailing companion he was as warm as a herring.
Their ship had already been stopped and boarded twice since approaching Vestfold. Each time Rognvald showed King Hakon's rune carved on a bit of antler. Along with a short discussion, it was enough to clear them onward. Yngvar knew his great-grandfather had held lands near here somewhere. Grenner had been the name of the place, but the lands were seized by High King Harald Finehair. Yngvar judged it prudent to lay no claim to the land. He was thankful Bjorn seemed ignorant of their shared past. One way to impress King Hakon would be to start disputing territory with him.
The powder blue mountains and cliffs of the coast were now resolving into darker shapes. A myriad of islands, mostly empty and rocky, splattered the coast toward Haugar, where King Hakon made his home. Each island was a potential hiding place for a raiding ship, and he now understood how his Uncle Gunnar had once planned to sneak up on this shore. Cunning use of the islands would cover any ship's advance. Though without knowledge of the water, submerged rocks or sandbanks could do in a ship.
Rognvald offered his advice at times. Now that they were steering into the harbor, he watched with a critical eye as Yngvar guided them the final distance. He saw docks and berths for ships along a beach that was home to dozens of ships. Banners of every color adorned masts and fluttered in the strong wind. Yngvar pulled hard on his tiller to keep his ship straight. He saw men on the docks waving him to a berth.
"Try not to sink us," Rognvald said, still sitting like he had frozen with his arms crossed. "I can't swim."
Yngvar wanted to snap back, but sweat was already burning his eyes. The docks were growing closer and the ship was coming home. The more experienced crew knew what to do to slow the approach. They worked the sails and prepared ropes. But Yngvar had to make the approach smooth. Rognvald needed that smirk wiped from his handsome face.
Hamar, a stout man with a bushy beard and no hair, was the usual steersman for Yngvar. He approached casually now, as if simply interested to see what was in the water at Yngvar's side of the ship. He spoke his advice to the sea, so it would not seem obvious he coached Yngvar.
"Steer her aside a bit to slow the approach. Don't worry, the men know what to do."
So Yngvar angled the ship to slow down the glide, then righted her. Hamar nodded, pulling his fingers through his beard. As they slid up to the berth, it seemed the opening was too small for Yngvar's ship. How could he hit such a small area?
"Don't be nervous," Hamar said. "It's fine. Watch the port side. Too close to those ships. Over ..."
The thud was obvious, and one of the shields on the rack popped off onto the deck. The ship he had clipped had no one aboard, but Yngvar could not spare a glance. Rognvald snorted as he guided the ship to the dock.
His crew flung ropes and the men on the dock grabbed them. They hauled in and Yngvar tried to steer true. He ended up butting the dock, drawing irritated curses from the men there. Yet at last they were moored and Yngvar fell limp against the tiller.
"Well done," Hamar said, smiling. "No one was killed."
"My pride died a bit when I struck that ship," Yngvar said.
Rognvald stood and sneered, but said nothing as he hefted his chest. The rest of the crew completed their duties and threw down the gangplank to allow the dock workers aboard. Rognvald greeted them.
Thorfast now dared to get close again. "You really should've let Hamar do this. No need to show off."
"It's my ship and I am the leader here," Yngvar said, giving a mocking smile in opposition to Thorfast's raised brow. "And that shit Rognvald needs to know it."
"You don't like him?" Thorfast asked. "I thought he did a fine job of securing that mast with his back the whole journey here. Never even said a word."
Now Alasdair and Bjorn joined him. Bjorn already had his trunk in both hands. "Where am I going to put this?"
"Gods, Bjorn, you've been here as long as me. Just leave it here for now."
Yngvar scanned the shore and his spine thrilled at the thriving community. Fishermen and traders scurried back and forth. Wagons of goods were loaded and unlo
aded. The air was full of lively talk, and everywhere men seemed prosperous and happy. Farther up the shore the weathered buildings of Haugar piled up on one another, each sending streams of welcoming smoke into the gray sky. The thin rain did not dampen the mood of this place.
"Now here's what a real Norse town looks like," Yngvar said, setting both hands on his hips. "We've never seen one, you know. This is where our grandfathers came from, the land that bred heroes. And now we're here, at its heart. Doesn't that stir you?"
"No," Bjorn said sullenly. "It just makes me hungry. Do you smell that? It's meat, and I want some."
"If you can still speak whole sentences, you're not hungry enough," Thorfast said.
They laughed at Thorfast's jest, but it died as Rognvald appeared behind them.
"Leave your belongings here. They'll be safe. Now gather your crew and follow me."
Rognvald stalked off the ship while Yngvar called his crew together. He had thirty men with him, mostly those who had followed him all the way from Frankia as well as a handful of men who had fled Erik Blood-Axe's service. The rest were men who had gone to fight Erik with him. Yngvar learned how quickly battle forms bonds between men. None of them were willing to remain behind. He had true followers who believed he could not only fight the best, but also win against the best. He hoped he would not betray that trust.
They followed Rognvald into Haugar, the traditional seat of Harald Finehair's power, now claimed by his youngest son, Hakon. Yngvar was amazed at the densely packed buildings and the sheer number of people doing any number of different jobs. The crowds made him skittish. Though men stuck side to side in a shield wall, this was different. Winding through paths crowded with men, women, dogs, chickens, goats, geese, and wagons full of hay or barrels or crates set him on edge. He had no freedom of motion here.
"Where are we going?" he asked Rognvald a third time, receiving the same bland, tired look. He never answered.
At last they came to a hall. This could not be King Hakon's hall. For one it was still not at the heart of Haugar. Yet more telling was its small size and gray, aged thatch. It was past its prime and needed replacement. Rognvald stopped here.
"My hall," he said, then a huge smile broke out across his face. "I'll be giving you orders for your service. I'll represent King Hakon to you. Today, you will give your oaths and then I will give you places to stay and duties to perform. I have to say, watching you during this voyage has left me skeptical of Jarl Alrik's claim to be sending the king his best men. But I will make something of you all yet. Now inside."
"Inspirational," Thorfast whispered from behind Yngvar. The hot, unexpected breath at his ear caused Yngvar to laugh. Rognvald paused to stare at him, but continued to lead them inside.
The interior was as dismal as the outside and smelled of livestock. In fact, dung was in the corners of the hall.
"Well, this will be your new home," Rognvald said. "Your first task is to rebuild this place. New thatch, new hearth, new floor. Got a busy summer ahead of you. So take a moment to have a look and then I'll hear your oaths."
"Gods, he'll hear mine," Bjorn growled. "Does he think we've come to clean up his shit?"
"I do," Rognvald said, smiling and walking right up to Bjorn. "You're not going to be wrestling and dueling here, boy. You serve the king, who gives you orders through me. And he wants this hall renewed. So you'll eat shit if that's what I tell you."
"We're freemen," Bjorn said, rising up to Rognvald's challenge. "Not your slaves."
"Hold on," Yngvar said, pulling Bjorn back. "We represent Jarl Alrik here. Remember that. This is what he has asked of us, and so we will obey."
Rognvald tilted his head at Yngvar and gave a limp smile. "A bit of sense in you, I guess. There's hope."
He left them to step outside, and Yngvar stared at his fellow wolves.
Thorfast folded his arms. "This is going to be the longest summer we've ever spent."
CHAPTER SEVEN
The sea salt was still fresh on Yngvar's face as he approached the rebuilt hall. The fresh thatch shined like gold in the afternoon sun. He and Thorfast had spent the early summer up on that roof, tearing off old thatch and weaving in the fresh. Their technique had been horrible and Rognvald had it all torn up and done over.
Now the paths surrounding this old and forgotten hall were deep with ruts and footprints. Yngvar's legs wobbled from having been at sea for a week. He and his whole crew had been rewarded with a patrol of the coast around Vestfold. After a week of calm waters, the press of people with their carts and shouldered burdens disturbed him. A man with a fat mole on his cheek nearly rammed him over, hitting him blindly with the heavy gray sack over his shoulder.
"Sorry," he grunted. But before Yngvar could berate him, the man moved on with the rest of the village crowd.
"I miss being at sea already," Thorfast said.
"Not me," Bjorn said. "It was fucking boring. Doesn't the king have any enemies to fight? I thought we were filling his ranks. Can't even find a pirate at sea."
"It was to be a safe place for us," Alasdair said. He stood in Yngvar's shadow, dutifully carrying Yngvar's sea chest. To be fair, it was mostly empty and hardly a labor for an old maid. Yet Alasdair had insisted on carrying it.
"Too safe," Bjorn said, under his breath. The rest of the crew trailed out behind them, some stopping to chat with acquaintances as they returned to their hall. Those close enough to hear Bjorn muttered their agreement.
Outside the hall, Rognvald awaited with hands on his hips. He was dressed like a rich warrior, wearing a new brown cloak pinned with a silver circle. His hair and beard were neatly trimmed and oiled, and Yngvar paused at the transformation. Not that he had ever been sloppy, but he was no more the rough-necked taskmaster he had been all summer.
"A week at sea did you good?" he asked as they drew closer. In the shadows of the door behind him, dull shapes of other men filled the hall.
"Good enough," Yngvar said. "But we are glad to be back at our hall."
Rognvald's smile widened. "You had been so eager to be done with it. What did you say to me last? 'I hope I never have to look at this damned roof again.' Was that it?"
Yngvar waved off the comment and sought to pass Rognvald into the hall. But he bared Yngvar's path with a strong arm.
"No weapons in my hall."
"Your hall?"
Rognvald's eyes raised. "Well, all is King Hakon's, but he has bestowed this hall to me and my men. He was here only a few days ago to see what had become of this old junk. He was complimentary of the craftsmanship."
Yngvar felt his face grow hot. "King Hakon was here while we were at sea?"
"Indeed he was. Stood right where you are now and admired the thatch you and Thorfast the Silent had laid."
"You at least told him who fixed his hall?" Yngvar's fists were balling now, and Rognvald gave a delighted smile at it.
"My men repaired it. He doesn't need to know your name."
Yngvar felt Alasdair close to him. He locked eyes with Rognvald. "You sent us to sea so you could have the king's attention all to yourself."
"So the sun did not bake off all of your sense." Rognvald stood straighter, taking a sterner position against Yngvar and the rest of his crew gathering behind him.
"This was our accomplishment. Praise from the king should've fallen to us, and you stole it."
"Don't worry yourself with it," Rognvald said, rolling his eyes. "The king would not remember your names for such a thing. Now, you and your men can take the barracks house. You'll find it empty and in need of some cleaning and repairs. But I'm sure you're all skilled enough in that regard. Now go on. My men and I have matters to attend to."
Yngvar stepped closer, but Thorfast's hand clamped his shoulder.
"Certainly, Lord Rognvald," he said, as he pulled Yngvar back. "We will drink to your health tonight and piss to your glory afterward. Enjoy your hall and I pray the roof won't leak on your face."
Stunned, Yngvar and his dishearten
ed crew pushed through more villagers and traders about their business. The barracks had once seemed like a great hall in comparison to the run-down hall they had used all summer. Now, after restoring their hall, this barracks showed its true condition.
"He's a fucking bastard," Bjorn said as he entered. He flung his chest at the first pallet inside the door. Rotten straw scattered the floor and the long, single room smelled of cold ashes from the hearth and urine. "Another cesspit for a home. Remind me why we left Frankia again?"
"For gold and glory," Yngvar mumbled. Truly, this was as bad as he had all summer. It would be better to sleep on the deck of his ship than here.
"So he made us fix up his hall and took credit for it before the king," Thorfast said. "We no longer have to wonder who are friends are here. At least that much is clear."
They settled in for the night, the conversation uninspired and spotty. No one felt any greatness for this. Yngvar felt betrayed both by Rognvald and by Alrik. What was all this? If it wasn't a punishment, then why did it feel like one? Ostensibly representing his jarl to the king, Yngvar felt more like he was a rust bit of scrap atop a trash heap.
They rekindled the hearth and made themselves a meal of cheese and herring washed down with too much ale. By late night, Yngvar had decided Rognvald had to pay.
"Pay for what?" Bjorn asked. His face was bleary and red.
"Pay for the insult," Yngvar said, wobbling on his pallet. "We weren't even invited to the hall for a meal. Bastard and his dog-fucking friends drank and sang songs there all night. Under a roof we labored over all summer. Bastard!"
The curse was repeated a dozen times as if each man were just learning the word and repeating it for memorization. At last Yngvar decided what to do.
"Let's go to the hall," he said. "Just us wolves. The rest of you have to stay behind."
His crew seemed equally disappointed and relieved. Yngvar's thoughts didn't extend far beyond what he wanted to see. But even in his clouded judgment he knew he could get his men in trouble with his scheme.
Odin's Ravens (Descendants Saga Book 2) Page 4