by J. A. Snow
Glod had bristled at that. “She is not ugly!” she spat at him. “She is big and beautiful!” Glod was not afraid of her husband; as contrary and obstinate as he was, she was a giant herself and afraid of no man, not even Logi. Ever since their wedding night, which was more perfunctory than passionate, love had not grown in her heart for Logi. This was an arranged marriage and, Glod obliged to do her duty but only to a point, and no further. She had submitted to him, letting him know clearly that it was only so that she could give her father the grandsons he desired. After that, she had not let him back into her bed until after their daughter was born and it was time to try again for a son.
“Well, keep her then,” Logi had told her sourly. “But don’t bother me with it. As far as I’m concerned, she has nei use except to eat and soil herself and cry in the night.”
He sat down at the table and drew himself a flagon of mead, drinking it down quickly and then reached for another. It can’t be true! he thought to himself. Kari wouldn’t dare take my birthright! Kvenland is mine! He stared across the room at his wife and baby with disdain. Why, oh why, had he let Dagstorp talk him into marrying this girl and settling for this frozen wasteland as a home? Who could tell how long it would be before his father-in-law finally gave up the ghost? He could be stuck up here for years and never inherit Grimsgard! Besides, now he had competition from all of Alf’s soldiers who had married Glod’s sisters. He hadn’t planned on that! Who would Grim favor in his final days? Perhaps he would inherit nothing!
The door of the longhouse opened and Dagstorp entered. Silently, he helped himself to a drink and he sat down across the table from Logi. He could tell by his friend’s demeanor, trouble was afoot. “What is troubling you, Logi?” he asked. “Is it the death of your papi?”
Logi laughed then, a boisterous, hideous guffaw. “You think I am mourning the death of Fornjot?” he asked, his mouth curled up into a sneer. “I hated that man! He was as mean as a viper!”
Dagstorp nodded silently, thinking of the irony of Logi’s words.
“Why do you smile?” asked Logi. “Is this all funny to you?”
“I did not know your papi,” the troll replied. “If he was as cruel as you say, why do you fret so?”
Logi slammed the flagon of mead down on the table, splashing the contents in Dagstorp’s face. “My brother is an ingrate!” he snarled. “I’ll show him who is the rightful jarl of Kvenland! I’ll skewer his head on a stake! I’ll gut him while his heart is still beating and spread his innards across the Gandvik!”
Across the room, Glod’s eyes popped. She pulled baby Eisa protectively to her bosom. “So, we are going to Kvenland, then?” she asked solemnly.
Logi laughed again at the absurdity of her question. “I am going to Kvenland! You can stay here with your useless little girl in this wretched pot of ice you call home!”
Even Dagstorp, who knew Logi’s selfish tendencies, was shocked at him. “You can’t leave your wife and child to go off on a mission of vengeance,” he said. “You belong with your family now!”
“I am going, and that is that,” said Logi. “Kari will pay dearly for his treachery!”
Dagstorp took a deep breath. “Well, I won’t go with you,” he said firmly. “I won’t leave our women alone to fend for themselves!”
“There are plenty of men here to watch over them!” Logi replied. “Women have nei place on a battlefield!”
“So, you plan on doing battle, then?” asked Dagstorp. “You plan to kill your own brother? Did it ever occur to you that Kari might think you are dead? You said yourself you told nei one of your plan to come to the Trondelag. You might, at least, let him know you are alive!”
Logi stood up angrily. “You must come with me, Dagstorp! I must confront him! I rely on you to advise me!”
“Hmmmmph!” said the troll. “When have you ever listened to my advice? I am telling you, Logi, I will not abandon my wife. She is expecting, you know! I am to be a father for the first time in the fall.”
A half-hearted smile came over Glod’s face, who had been listening to the conversation. “We are expecting again too, Logi,” she said.
“What? Another girl, most likely!” snapped Logi. “My gods, I do believe I am cursed!”
With that said, Logi stormed out of the house, shuddering the floor with his heavy boots. Once outside, he ran across the yard to where his horse was standing, still saddled, and swung his long legs over the beast’s back. With a vicious snap of the reins on the horse’s rump, they were off at a wild gallop up the road. For the first time, Logi did not hesitate; he gripped tightly with his knees and whipped the horse on to an even faster gait, as if killing his horse could quell his anger. He finally pulled sharply on the reins, making the horse squeal, and they stopped on the crest of a hill above the little village of Halogaland.
Thoughts were swirling through Logi’s mind. He looked east toward the great mountains, permanently capped with snow, back toward his boyhood home on the other side. “Odin, where are you?” he screamed into the wind. Maybe, he had been right in thinking Dagstorp was indeed Odin in disguise. Perhaps Odin had been with him all along! He looked down at his home where Dagstorp and Glod were standing outside the longhouse door, watching him from afar, waiting to see what he would do in his rage. Why was he so unsettled? Why had things turned out so differently than he had planned, so differently than Odin had told him they would? He had been promised dominion over the Trondelag and all he had been given was a wasteland, a few horses, an obstinate wife and a useless baby girl. He had dominion over nothing! Grim still ruled the Trondelag; Logi was only one of many who now secretly dreamed of inheriting it all.
The horse, lathered in sweat from the uphill gallop, nickered nervously at him and Logi reached down and stroked the animal’s neck, surprising even himself at his gentle gesture. It passed quickly, however; he kicked the horse again sharply and they galloped back down the hill. He was going home to defend his birthright and he was taking Dagstorp with him! He would not take nei for an answer!
Chapter Thirty-One “Dansa”
She was a sweet one, the girl Kari had chosen for his bride. Unbeknownst to him, she had worshipped him from afar for many years in their youth, although she didn’t know him well. The only son of Fornjot with whom she was well-acquainted was Logi, the spoiled one, the one who loitered in her father’s foundry almost every day, and she disliked him intensely. All her life, her biggest fear was that her father and the jarl would arrange for her to marry his oldest son and she would be doomed to a life with him. Weyland put her fears to rest early on, when he admitted he didn’t like the boy either. He had only pretended to go along with the betrothal to keep peace with Fornjot. “You needn’t worry,” he had told her long before, to set her mind at ease. “Logi is just like his papi and I wouldn’t want my daughter married to a man like that!”
She had learned her cooking skills at her mother’s side and, as her belly swelled with new life, she prepared their food and kept the longhouse warm and inviting for Kari and his brother after their long, hard days of boat-building. One would never describe Dansa as beautiful, for her face was plain and there was nothing memorable about her features, but her heart was pure and she loved Kari with all the passion of youth. When it was finally time for their baby to be born, Kari was beside himself with worry. Would the baby be too large? Would it kill his wife to come into the world as his father had? He was discovering that being a giant was not always a blessing.
But the baby boy was born, thankfully without killing his mother, and a fine, big boy he was, dark-haired and swarthy like his father. They decided to name him Frosti, for he came into the world on a frosty morn just as the sun was dawning and the steam was rising off the fjords. Kari went to Dansa’s side as soon as Nordrana had departed and remained with her all that day, marveling at the boy who cooed like a little mourning dove and looked up at his parents with wide-eyed curiosity. Aegir took almost as much pride in the infant as his brother did. �
�I shall teach him to build boats!” he said. “He will make a fine man of the sea!” And, life in the little village on the Gandvik went on while the boats were taking shape in the boathouse, Weyland’s furnace burned hot in the foundry and the harbor was once again bustling with vessels from Eistland and beyond.
Aegir had not visited the lakeshore, still worried that Logi’s body would wash up on the beach. He had nightmares about it.
“Logi is gone, Brother,” Kari tried to reassure him. “If he were going to resurface he would have done it by now and the wolves would have dragged him off to the woods.”
“I know,” Aegir replied. “I just have this awful feeling that I will see him again. I don’t like dead bodies. They scare me.”
“Dead bodies can’t hurt you, Brother,” said Kari. “And neither can Logi.”
The excitement of testing their new boats soon overshadowed Aegir’s fears. With the help of Snapp and the others, they finally carried the first model down to the harbor. Long and sleek and glistening from many coats of amber resin and pine oil, she slipped smoothly into the water and then all the men climbed aboard to man the oars, with Kari controlling the great kite. She was the biggest they had built so far, with room for ten men at the oars, and they also christened her the Kaleva, thinking it would bring them good luck to always have their grandfather sailing with them. Dansa and Weyland and most of the village stood on the dock to see them off, waving happily when the wind took hold of the kite and the boat gradually disappeared from view.
Dansa returned to the longhouse she had come to know and love, where Frosti was sleeping in a wooden-sided box in the shape of a tiny boat Kari had made especially for him. She looked down at her son now with love, marveling that the baby was so handsome and perfect, after a birth that had been difficult and extremely painful, a fact she had not shared with her husband. Her body still stung from the jagged tears between her legs that Nordrana had tried to repair with silk thread and a needle. But she was happy, whether or not she would ever be able to give Kari another child; Frosti was worth all the pain she had endured to bring him into the world.
She tidied up the cots around the fire-pit, fueling the hot embers with a fresh log, and went about her housekeeping chores, humming to herself while the baby slept. Knowing the men would be gone all day testing the boat on the Gandvik, she undressed to bathe herself and wash her hair in a large wooden tub Kari had made especially for her. Kari was very clever with tools and he was a good husband, always kind and considerate, and she loved him dearly. She was quite fond of her brother-in-law too and felt a little sorry for Aegir, who sometimes seemed so lonely without a wife of his own. She had no way of knowing poor Aegir still believed Logi’s cruel prediction, that if he ever married he would father cripples like himself. He had made up his mind he would never take that chance. For Aegir, his boats were his life.
She had stepped out of the tub and was toweling herself dry when she heard the door open; a gust of wind blew into the longhouse. “Papi?” she called out from the kitchen. “Is that you?” Quite often, when the men were on the sea, Weyland would visit his daughter. She quickly slipped into her robe. When no one answered her, she called out again, “Papi?” Suddenly, a man was standing in the doorway staring at her, a giant man with a familiar face and a forked, yellow beard. As she tried to cover herself with her robe, the man lunged forward and grabbed her by her forearms.
“Well, if it isn’t Weyland’s little girl,” said the man. “Your face is still ugly but the rest of you has turned out quite nicely.” Viciously he threw her down on the floor and tore open her robe.
Dansa struggled against him at first, kicking and biting, but it only seemed to excite the man more. Terrified he would harm the baby if she fought him, she finally closed her eyes and submitted to him. Her body felt as if it were being ripped apart again, so soon after the birth of her child, and tears of pain ran in rivulets down her face just as blood trickled across her thighs. When he had ravaged her body completely, he stood up and laughed wickedly down at her. “Tell my brother I am taking back my birthright,” he said. “Tell him he can step down or die!”
Then Logi left the longhouse as abruptly as he had arrived.
Chapter Thirty-Two “And So It Begins”
The Kaleva took to the sea splendidly on her first voyage that day. With the wind at her back, she sliced through the blue Gandvik silently except for the rhythmic slapping of the oars on the water. Kari was already becoming a master at the ropes, pulling this way and that, guiding her into and out of the wind; his love for their new boat now overshadowed his boyhood fascination with kites made from dried leaves and he had truly begun to love the sea as well, almost as much as he loved the wind.
They sailed further west that day than ever before, so far, they soon lost sight of the village dock. Aegir sat in the back of the boat, manning the last set of oars behind Snapp and the others. He did his best to keep up, but the others said nothing when he raised his oars out of the water every so often to rest his arms. Aegir’s talents were more for designing and building than for rowing. No one thought of him as a cripple but inside Aegir was still deeply ashamed of himself, knowing he would always be the weak one in the family. Still, it was his grandfather’s love that sustained him; Kaleva had always explained away his mismatched legs and smaller stature by telling him it was no accident of birth that he was different than the others, that Odin had different plans for him. Aegir was finally beginning to understand what that plan was; here, in the boat with his brother and Snapp, he felt a sense of true accomplishment and his chest swelled with pride. The Kaleva was a fast boat that took to the waves as naturally as the fish swimming beneath its keel.
“She is sound and true,” Snapp told the brothers, after checking the hull for any sign of a leak. “And, not a single drop of water weeping between the strakes! Your Kaleva will take you anywhere you want to go!”
Kari was pleased; Snapp certainly knew his boats and Kari valued his opinion. “This one has taken longer to build,” he said. “But, I know we can build many just like her!”
With his courage bolstered by Snapp’s remarks, he urged the men to row on, further out on the Gandvik. “Let us see what is on the other side, shall we?”
The sea of serpents was wide, but just how wide they were determined to find out. The trading routes ran north and south, up and down the coast of Kvenland. Now, they were heading west into the unknown, over a route no one had taken before. They rowed for a long time, resting every so often and letting the wind take over, their curiosity growing with every stroke. Sailing to Eistland, hugging the coastline like a mother’s apron string, was not nearly so dangerous. Kari and Aegir had experienced the open water crossing the bay, but it all happened so quickly the sea kept their minds occupied every moment, just trying to survive. Now, on the Gandvik, with a team of strong men rowing with them and the perfect, new Kaleva beneath them, it seemed as if no place was beyond their reach. Kari decided they would go as far as they could go this time. The day was a day for courage. There was nothing to stop them now. They would find out what was at the other side of the Gandvik!
With the first sight of land, the men raised their oars and stared at the virgin coastline before them in silent awe. Resting on the current, they drew closer, into the mouth of a wide river, where a herd of great, hairy moose stood knee-deep in the shallows, drinking and feasting on the river-grasses while others grazed in the field and nibbled at the twisted, yellow-bearded lichens that hung like braided hair from the branches of the trees. The men took notice of the beauty before them. Even in Kvenland they had never seen such a pristine wilderness, so untouched by man. The air was quiet and still and pure. At the feet of a forest of birch trees, were fields of white sneezewort flowers, bushes of wild blueberries, and strange, red mushrooms. The bounties before them inspired all the men, anxious to gather what they could before returning home. They beached the boat a safe distance from the moose, and ran about, gathering all that they c
ould carry. A few of the men stripped off their tunics, filling them with the delicacies. They all sat on the beach, eating and laughing over their discovery.
“Imagine!” said Aegir to his brother, when they finally sat down to rest with the others, sucking on the berries with the juices running down their chins. “Without the Kaleva we would have never ventured this far! She is truly a blessed boat!”
“Ja,” Kari agreed, as he tucked a bouquet of the daisy-like flowers for Dansa beneath his belt. “But we should not linger. The darkness will be upon us soon. We should return while it is still light.”
Reluctantly, they launched the Kaleva again and began rowing toward home, with their cache of wonderful food to surprise their families. The Kaleva had done well on her first sea trial. The wind and the new kite worked together and, as dusk began to fall, once again they could see the shore of Kvenland coming into view. Even before the dock came into sight, however, they noticed it, spiraling up, black as onyx against the twilight sky. The smoke of a fire in the distance startled the men and they rowed faster. The closer they came it was apparent the fire was very close to the village.
“What could have happened?” asked Snapp as they rowed together furiously.
“It looks like the thingstead is burning!” said one of the men.
Kari and Aegir’s blood ran cold. It couldn’t be! thought Kari. It must be! thought Aegir. Fires in cold, wet Kvenland rarely started themselves, occasionally in the woods by way of a lightning strike, but rarely by themselves. No, fires had to be deliberately set by man. In this case, Kari and Aegir were sure they knew who that man was. They paddled the Kaleva and tied it up against an empty dock for all the men in the village were away trying to put out the flames that were consuming their beloved building, the gift from their new jarl. By the time they had reached the crowd, the thingstead was gone; only a pile of charred wood and ash remained where it had stood. Memory of a similar fire so many years before, when the animal barn had burned, came back vividly to Aegir. Logi’s ghost has returned! he thought, although he didn’t dare voice his fears. Kari was silent too, but he was entertaining similar thoughts. It couldn’t be! Ghosts can’t build fires!