The Apples of Idunn

by Matt Larkin

  Much had changed, if not here, then in Athra lands. Much Odin needed to hear. This time, Tyr would force him to listen. The jarl could no longer push aside his duties.

  Tyr headed straight for the great hall. The doors stood half open, despite the chill. Vili reclined on Odin’s throne. Fumbling with an empty drinking horn. Other men and women sat at the tables, passing around horns. Talking. Bored.

  “Where is Odin?” Tyr demanded.

  Vili chuckled. “Ask the goddess. Maybe she knows. Or his new blood brother.” He nigh spat the last word, pointing to the corner where Loki sat alone.

  Tyr ignored the foreigner. “Odin is away?”

  Vili snorted. “Long away. While the rest of us pass a dull winter.” He thumped a large index finger against an armrest. “Come summer, I say we raid somewhere.”

  “Borr spent his life bringing peace between the tribes.”

  Vili shrugged. “Father’s dead. Besides, we can raid into Hunaland, Reidgotaland, anywhere. Fuck a troll if I care.” He slapped the armrest. “We can join the Friallafs against Miklagard!”

  Men called the southern empire soft in one breath. Undefeatable in the next. Decadent, but vast.

  Tyr slumped down on a bench before Vili. Not the most articulate of Borr’s sons. Strong, though. Brave. Maybe more honorable than Odin. Tyr sighed. “Your cousin Annar finds himself beset by the Godwulfs.”

  “You want us to fight werewolves?” Vili banged his fist against his armrest again and grinned. “Now that’s more like it. I can rip a wolf clean in half. Owe them too, after that raid.”

  “Huh. Maybe. But it’s not about us. It’s about some rivalry between the Hasdingi and the Godwulfs. I aim to maintain the peace your father built. Not break it.”

  Vili scoffed, waving the thought away.

  If Odin wasn’t here, then maybe Idunn would know what to do next. Tyr rose, turned to find her. Instead he nigh crashed into Loki a half step behind him.

  “What do you want, foreigner?”

  “You are keen to bind the tribes to Odin. Some can be bound with silver, some with sword, but one bond holds stronger than either.”

  Vili chuckled. “He always talks like that. Should’ve been a skald.”

  “What are you on about?” Tyr asked.

  “Jarl Hadding of the Hasdingi is old and dying, and with a sole heir, the woman, Frigg, who remains unmarried. Nor does Odin have a wife. You might well bind the tribes together with a marriage. And with the Wodanar joined to the Hasdingi, do you think the Godwulfs might well reconsider their course of aggression? Especially facing three tribes united against them.”

  “A wedding!” Vili roared. “By Hel, yes. That would finally give us some fucking excitement. Get old Hadding busting out his finest mead.” Vili pointed at Loki. “I thought I didn’t like you. Becoming a brother to Odin and so forth. But you helped us kill Ymir, and now this. You are a good man.”

  Tyr had serious doubt on that account. Nevertheless, the plan did sound workable. A marriage alliance between the heads of two tribes would secure another tribe under Odin. And possibly an end to the Godwulf tribe’s attacks at the same time.

  “All right. I will visit Hadding and propose this.”

  “I will accompany you,” Loki said. “I know the jarl, and they know me there.”

  “Good, good,” Vili said. “Be quick about it. I want that damned feast.”

  He had only just returned once again. Tyr grumbled under his breath.

  Idunn sat on the fence outside her house. Balance should have been awkward. She was like a cat. Tyr blinked, tried to not imagine her naked again. Writhing. Her pulse joining his own. Her warm trench wrapped around him like …

  No!

  Gods. Get it out of his head. He’d had a wife. And he’d lost her.

  Idunn was right. She wasn’t Zisa.

  She was a goddess, though.

  “Tyr!” Warm smile. Warm arms. So perfect wrapped around him.

  He nodded at her. “I have a plan. I’m going to Halfhaugr. I’ll arrange Odin’s marriage to Frigg, the jarl’s daughter. Should swing that tribe our way. Might give the Godwulfs pause, too.”

  “Oh, wonderful. That’s a lovely plan. I almost wish I could go as well, but he’ll expect me here.”

  “Uh. Wasn’t my plan, really. Loki suggested it, even insisted on coming.”

  “Loki?” Idunn frowned. Expression ill suited her. Aught that made the goddess frown set a vein throbbing in his head. “The foreigner.”

  “Yes. Why? You know aught of him?”

  “A little, maybe. A wanderer, that one, dabbling in the affairs of others where he ought not.”

  Tyr scowled. He’d known that bastard would bring ill fortune to the Wodanar. Idunn fretted over him, too. Almost enough to make Tyr crack the man’s skull and be done with it. Save for his oath to Odin. To Borr. “Is there more?” No way he could act against Odin’s blood brother. Not without serious charge.

  Idunn sighed, then shook her head. “I don’t know, really. The marriage might still serve our ends, Tyr. Odin needs the support of the Hasdingi, and Halfhaugr is central to control of Aujum.”

  “Then come with me. Help me keep the foreigner in check.”

  “Hmm. I wish I could. I have a … a duty here, a promise made to Odin.”

  Shame that. Tyr grunted. “All right. We will speak when I return.”

  They left in the morning, trusting to a dog sled to carry them far. Fewer nights spent in the wild the better. Tyr guided the sled. While Loki stared off into the mist like he could see aught through it.

  After long hours of silence, the foreigner looked at him. Smirked. Brash trollfucker.

  “What?” Tyr demanded.

  “Some questions are best held close to one’s chest, true enough, but ask naught and you may learn even less. Vast ignorance is apt to disguise itself as common wisdom.”

  Tyr shook his head, looked to the dogs. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Loki chuckled. “It means you wish to ask something but still your tongue. Deep down, part of you realizes that uncovering the answer means exposing your worldview to scrutiny it might not endure.”

  “You talk like a damned vӧlva. You took Odin to fight this Ymir. Sons of Borr might’ve died up there. And now you’ve sent him off Njord knows where. Why?”

  “Are you so certain Njord knows so much?”

  Tyr spat over the side of the sled. “You insult the Vanir now?”

  “Has it occurred to you that you ask me questions and then complain when I have the answers?”

  “What fucking answers? You led Odin to fight Ymir. He tells it like you even aided him. But you tell no stories of your glory.”

  “I’m not interested in glory.”

  “And that’s the fucking problem. You can’t trust a man who doesn’t care for honor.”

  Loki was staring off into space again. What did he see out there? A trap? Was the foreigner leading him into an ambush? “You think glory and honor are exactly the same thing?”

  “A child still on the teat knows that much, foreigner.”

  “The pursuit of glory may one day cost you much.”

  Tyr scoffed. “Are you a coward?”

  Loki offered no answer. The bastard. Tyr’s accusation was unfounded, of course. The foreigner had gone up against the jotunn, even if he downplayed his role. He had gone where Tyr should have gone. But then, Loki had somehow tricked Odin into sending Tyr away. He must have.

  And now, Loki had convinced him to have Odin marry Hadding’s daughter. The foreigner must have some greater scheme. But Idunn was the only one clever enough to unravel it. And she had said to arrange the wedding.

  Tyr would do so. But he’d keep an eye on Loki. A careful eye.

  26

  The deer wouldn’t venture beyond the copse of evergreens. It was rare to spot one at all this close to town, and Sigyn was determined not to lose it. She was no hunter, as Frigg insisted on reminding her every time she went out a
lone, but she was a good shot with a bow. Her calves ached from crouching still so long, waiting for the animal to give her a clean shot. Her father had not named her a hunter, true, but she could be a hunter. Maybe that was her place—the same place Hermod had once held.

  She’d left Snow Rabbit tied to a tree a quarter mile away, afraid the horse would spook the deer. Poor mare thought she’d been getting a gentle ride, but then Sigyn had seen the tracks. She would be the song of the town if she brought the animal down. Game had grown sparser and sparser around Halfhaugr, especially in winter. Bringing home fresh meat certainly wouldn’t hurt her marriage prospects, either.

  Her father would have her pretend to be simple, demure, and spineless. Then maybe he’d find a man for her. “No man wants a wife smarter than he is.” Troll shit on that.

  The deer lifted its head sharply.

  Damned beast had heard her. It was going to bolt. She could feel it. It was going to—

  The deer bounded off, darting between trees. Sigyn rose and drew her bow back in a single motion. She narrowed her sight along the shaft. Steady. Steady … She loosed.

  The arrow whizzed over the deer and thunked into a tree.

  “Son of a troll!”

  She blew out a long breath. She ought to have stuck to just the riding today. Her dress was damp with melted snow as she trekked back to Snow Rabbit, making the journey oh so much more enjoyable. When she finally reached the mare, the animal shook nervously. Leaving her tied to a tree outside the wall might have been foolish, but no harm had come of it, nor would she expect any during daylight, though that light was fast fading.

  “Come on, girl,” she said as she untied the rope. “Best head home.”

  Snow Rabbit started back the moment Sigyn mounted her, setting a pace just shy of a full trot. Sigyn wouldn’t hold her back. The poor animal knew what lurked out in the mist at night probably better than humans did.

  The wind blew against the back of her neck, so she pulled her hood up. For a time, she kept the pace, then set Snow Rabbit trotting. They’d both be less on edge behind the town wall.

  Moments later, another rider approached from the direction of town. A man, by his bearing, and pressing hard—in the wrong direction if he wanted to reach anywhere safe by nightfall. She could get off the road to avoid the traveler, but he would have seen her already. If he meant her ill, she’d rather meet him with bow ready. Besides, a man in that much of a hurry wouldn’t be like to stop for a lone woman. She dismounted, unslung her bow, and nocked an arrow without drawing back.

  It took only a few breaths for her to recognize the man—Agilaz. “Sigyn. What are you doing out so late? You should be behind the wall.”

  Sigyn tucked her arrow back in her quiver. “Well, you’re out here.”

  “I’m a trained hunter and scout. You’re a wellborn lady.”

  Yes, wellborn—after a fashion. “Where are you going, then?”

  “Scouts reported trouble spreading between the Athra and the Godwulfs. The jarl wants me to learn the truth of the matter.”

  She climbed back on Snow Rabbit. “So I’m coming with you.” She cared not overmuch about the Athra, but any threat to the Godwulfs was a threat to Hermod.

  “No.”

  “But I—”

  “No, Sigyn! Go home. The jarl has guests from the Wodan tribe. You should be there to meet them. You can catch the night meal if you make haste.”

  Guests? Had Odin returned after all?

  Sigyn winked at Agilaz, letting him know she knew he’d manipulated her. It was fine—she was curious about the jarl Frigg and their father so desperately wanted to win over. “Just take care, then.” With that she took off toward the town.

  A guard called out at her approach, then others opened the gates for her, albeit briefly as they ushered her inside with disapproving glares. With her luck, she’d probably just added a slew of rumors for the town to whisper about her. ‘Did you hear about Sigyn? Out riding at twilight like a crazed vӧlva. Tempting the vaettir, that one.’ She shook her head. Actually, the fear of vaettr possession was strong enough she shouldn’t risk further implicating herself. Suspicious fools wouldn’t need much goading to think she’d become host to something or other. A few winters back, the town had driven out a woman they claimed was alf-ridden. Poor woman had probably frozen to death in the wild.

  Sigyn hurried on to the stables and handed Snow Rabbit’s reins to the boy there. “The Wodan jarl, he’s here?”

  “No, my lady. One of his thegns went to see the jarl, though. And the foreigner came back with him.”

  “Foreigner?”

  “Am I so foreign?” a voice said behind her. “I have walked these lands often enough.”

  Sigyn’s shoulders hunched reflexively, and she blew a quick breath to calm herself. She’d not even heard anyone approach. Slowly, she turned to face the man—a sandy-haired stranger. His eyes, blue as sapphire, widened for a heartbeat when they met hers—so briefly she might have imagined it. Except she knew well enough the effect her pretty face could have on men who didn’t know better. This man dressed simply, like a common freeman, but his elocution was too fine for an uneducated man.

  She lowered her eyes from his. She couldn’t seem too bold. “Does walking in a land make you a native there?”

  The man nodded slowly, then stood straighter, hands behind his back. “Given enough time, I believe most would argue it does.” He spoke with such deliberateness that Sigyn felt her cheeks flush. Gods, he was probably imagining her naked.

  And did that even matter? Not really. Had she not just been looking for a husband to distract her from Hermod? With such thoughts in her head, it mattered little what went on in the heads of others.

  “Are you with Jarl Odin?”

  “Yes. You can call me Loki. If you wish to see Odin, though, he is not with us.”

  And if the jarl of the Wodanar had not come, why had he sent his thegn here? Surely not to thank Frigg for her aid in avenging his father. Such a purpose required he make the trek himself. The thegn might have come alone bearing a demand or threat, if Odin sought pretense to make war on the Hasdingi—the last thing Frigg or any of them needed.

  “You speak volumes in silence,” Loki said.

  “That’s …” Disturbingly perceptive. “… the gift of women.”

  “Hardly a universal one. I’ve known many women—”

  “No doubt.”

  He raised an eyebrow, and Sigyn flushed a little, praying it was merely that she’d interrupted, rather than that he’d caught her implication. With a lean body, a handsome face, and refined manners, he could well have had many women.

  “I … I should go,” she mumbled and edged around the man, careful not to brush up against him.

  What in Hel’s frozen world had she been thinking? Letting herself get flustered by a man just because he looked her way. It wasn’t like she’d never known a man’s touch—she’d taken her pleasure from a few in her time. But deep down she’d always known they’d never take her for more than someone to warm a bed on a cold night. If she wanted a husband she’d need to … to what? To not interrupt a man when he was speaking, maybe. Freyja alone knew how to please a man. Legend said the love goddess could have any man who drew breath. It shouldn’t be that hard for Sigyn to claim just one for herself.

  She pushed open the door into the great hall, forced to put her shoulder into it because of its weight. It creaked on its hinges, revealing the warmth of the hall. Inside, a feast was laid for a night meal. Jarl Hadding had gone to great lengths to impress his guest: plums, apples, roast squirrel, and at least one whole reindeer. Not that it surprised her. Her father wanted to win Odin’s support just as much as his daughter did.

  All had gathered around the feast table, with Odin’s thegn sitting across from her father. Sigyn’s chair stood empty next to Frigg, so she settled into it, offering only a nod to those around her. The Wodan thegn took no notice of her, and most of her own people pretended to take even less
. Frigg, however, clasped her hand in welcome.

  No sooner had Sigyn sat than Odin’s thegn rose, hefting his goblet into the air. “Jarl Hadding. Your hospitality is worthy of song. We come unannounced, and you honor us with a feast to make your ancestors proud. And I …” the thegn looked to Frigg before taking another sip of his goblet. “I would like to propose a more permanent alliance between our peoples.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Her father folded his arms, obviously trying to hide his interest.

  “What alliance is stronger than one of marriage? My lord remains unmarried, as does your daughter.”

  A slight silence filled the hall, before several Hasding warriors whooped in approval. Sigyn lowered her gaze to hide her own shock. Odin knew Frigg was a vӧlva. While her sister had plotted to sway or seduce Odin, he’d come to her on his own. What man married a vӧlva?

  Sigyn would have put her sister’s chances of a good marriage at even less than her own—which was to say about as the same as finding a mermaid atop a mountain. By Hel, Sigyn would have made a better match for Odin, though she had never met him, and he probably knew naught of her. It wasn’t as if Hadding boasted of his bastard daughter, but she could have made a wife fit for a jarl. She sipped her mead. Not that she cared.

  Her father stroked his chin, though whether in consideration or just because he wanted to cover his own surprise, Sigyn couldn’t quite say. “You honor us, Tyr. Please, convey my acceptance to your lord.”

  Tyr sat, banging his hand on the table as though he’d won a great victory. Loki slipped in during the commotion and sat close to Tyr, those too-blue eyes watching Sigyn.

  This was a man with an agenda, a deep plan. One more puzzle.

  27

  When Odin returned to the Wodan town, his people were waiting for him. Scouts must have reported his arrival ahead, because Vili already had mutton roasting on the fire, though it was early for the night meal. The thick aroma was intoxicating as heady wine. Odin had eaten little since he’d left the Norns’ mountain.