The Golden Wolf

by Linnea Hartsuyker

  Svanhild sat down near the cook-fire in the center of their ring of tents. “Men,” she said. “I am leaving Norway, never to return. I would not take any of you with me against your will. If you join me, I will find land for you in Iceland, or a place in a viking ship where you can win gold. Whatever you wish. If you come with me, and change your mind, I will find a way for you to return, though I can make no guarantees about your reception if you do. Or you may stay here. Take service with my nephew Einar, if you like—of all Harald’s followers, he is the most likely to see your value.”

  “I will come with you,” said Falki.

  “As will I,” said Aban. “I wish to see more of your northern lands than Norway alone.”

  Other voices joined theirs, while some few, men who did have homes and wives to return to, came to her regretfully. Audbjorn, who had followed her as long as Falki, inclined his head sadly. “I shall tell tales of our voyages to my daughter and sons,” he said.

  “We will leave as soon as Erik’s ships arrive,” said Svanhild. “There will be too many ships for them to notice us.” She heard some grumbling at the swiftness this would require but ignored it. And, as if to bless her decision, the breeze shifted, drawing tendrils of hair from under her scarf to brush over her forehead. “Let’s catch this wind.”

  23

  Thorir sighted Erik’s three ships coming around the tip of Skane, relayed that news to Ragnvald, and suddenly the whole camp seemed like an anthill under attack, full of scurrying warriors and servants. Ragnvald and Harald stood onshore and greeted Erik after he descended from the biggest vessel. Erik and Harald clasped forearms, awkwardly, since Harald was more than a head taller than him.

  “Greetings, giant,” said Erik. “I hope that even if you look like a wild mountain man, you will be gentle with my daughter.”

  “I will wed your daughter and have my hair cut on the same day,” Harald said. “And I cannot do that until I have slain these Scottish rebels. I will bring Orkney and all of Scotland under Norse control if that’s what it takes to prevent these uprisings.”

  “What of the rebellion in your own family?” Erik asked. “Your son Halfdan came to me for help killing you.”

  Harald let go of Erik’s arms. “In the woods you tried to convince me that Ragnvald the Mighty was in rebellion. If I’m to wed your daughter, you must stop trying to sow discontent in my kingdom.”

  “If?” Erik asked, his hand going toward his sword. “You swore that you would.”

  “I have never broken an oath,” said Harald. “And I will not start, even over a girl whose father had to take hostages to secure a husband for her.”

  Erik now pulled his sword half out of his scabbard, and the great crowd of his men gathered in around him, pinning Harald and Ragnvald against the rocking wall of Erik’s ship. Between the heads of two of Erik’s men, Ragnvald saw Einar, trying to press his way through.

  “Stop this,” Ragnvald yelled.

  Erik shoved his sword back in and his men retreated. “You are becoming difficult to trust,” he said. “I will not accept delay. You must come to Jutland and wed my daughter, or you will be an oath-breaker and I will have no trouble gathering every northern king and jarl to do battle against you.”

  Harald clenched his jaw, and Ragnvald stepped in between them. “You promised your aid,” he said to Erik. “After Harald weds your daughter, you will send men to help us do battle in the Orkneys next summer.”

  Einar had elbowed his way to the front of Erik’s men, and now stood just behind King Erik’s shoulder. “My lords,” he said. “King Harald, your wife Svanhild has left with her ship. Rolli follows in his.”

  King Erik smirked. “You have many problems to attend to, I see, but at least one fewer wife. We will discuss the wedding later.” He bowed and walked up onto the shore, his men following behind.

  “When did she leave?” Ragnvald asked Einar as soon as Erik was out of earshot. “How long ago was this?”

  Einar gestured at the sea, where two ships were growing small in the distance.

  Harald looked out at the ships. “I did not send her anywhere,” he said. “I was not certain where she should go next.”

  “She did not leave on an errand for you, I do not think,” said Ragnvald. He did not want to make this better for Harald. Harald was too like Ivar, never believing that anything could go against him.

  “So you think she has betrayed me?” Harald asked. “I cannot—she promised . . . she made me swear to care for our sons . . . And I was going to build her a ship. She betrayed me.” He whirled to face Ragnvald. “What do you know about this?”

  “I think she would say that you betrayed her first,” Ragnvald replied.

  “Would you agree?” Harald asked, his voice growing dangerous. “She has betrayed you as well.”

  Ragnvald only nodded. Harald had caused this by ignoring Svanhild and his duties for so long.

  “Where has she gone then?” Harald asked.

  “I can venture a guess,” said Ragnvald.

  Harald looked at him sharply, and Ragnvald felt Einar’s questioning look as well. “Why?” Harald asked. “You said my other wives would be content—”

  “She is not like your other wives,” said Ragnvald, “and you must still look to their contentment before you lose them as well. Svanhild is the boldest, but not the only one with spirit.”

  “You are full of anger this morning,” said Harald. “You are my adviser, not my father or my uncle, to speak to me like this.”

  It was not anger Ragnvald felt for Harald now, but contempt. Harald had never valued his allies well enough, and had always counted on Ragnvald to smooth over the troubles he made. Not today. Not when Harald had ripped them to shreds.

  “Do not take me for granted,” said Ragnvald. “I would not betray you over my feckless sister’s decisions.” He swallowed. He had mourned Svanhild once, and knew how to do so again. A part of him had always expected this day. “Do not imagine that I would. We have much work ahead of us. You must wed Ranka Eriksdatter, and still keep peace among the districts. My sister is gone, true, but all you have lost there is one wife and one small ship.”

  “I have lost more than that,” said Harald. “She is the stone that may start the avalanche. I need to hold on to my other allies, and show them what they will lose if they betray me.”

  The heat of Ragnvald’s anger cooled to fear. In the distance, Svanhild’s and Rolli’s ships had all but disappeared. “What will they lose?” he asked.

  “You asked for Sogn as compensation for my divorce of your sister. But she has left, so that compensation is not deserved.”

  “Is that how you see this?” Ragnvald asked. “You still divorced her. You promised Sogn to me long ago, before you had ever looked upon my sister, and now you would break your oath?”

  “My oath was to get it for you, not to never pass it to someone else,” said Harald.

  “You argue like a law-speaker who knows he is in the wrong,” said Ragnvald. “My line has ruled Sogn since the beginning of time.”

  “So has Aldi’s,” said Harald, his voice soft but implacable. “You are the richest man in Norway, taking the taxes of two districts. Would you let your greed rip Norway apart?”

  “Give me Sogn, and take Maer,” Ragnvald said, hating the begging tone in his voice. He should not have to ask for this—it was his by right and acclamation. “Maer is not my family’s land.”

  “I need you in Maer,” said Harald. “I have never understood this stubbornness of yours. Maer is bigger and as rich as Sogn.”

  “It has never been about riches,” said Ragnvald. “You surround yourself with greedy men and forget what a true king looks like.”

  “And that is you? You are the true king? I have been hearing this from my sons and King Erik. I have discounted it, but now I hear it from your lips? What am I to think?”

  “If I don’t give up Sogn, will you say I am in rebellion?” Ragnvald asked.

  “Are you not? You
asked for Sogn as payment for making Svanhild accept the divorce. She did not.”

  “Are you a king, or a merchant in the marketplace?” Ragnvald asked. “A ring-breaker cannot take back the rings he has broken for his followers, and make them whole.”

  “You may fight me if you wish,” said Harald, his voice still soft. “If you best me here, now, you will be king in truth. They will follow you—I am sure of it. Is that what you want?”

  Was this his time? Would he die now on Harald’s sword? And what would become of his sons if he did? “I am loyal,” said Ragnvald, through clenched teeth. “No matter how often you test me, I am loyal.”

  Harald stared at him until Ragnvald had no choice but to meet his eyes. Harald was tanned from weeks outside, and looked as strong as ever, Ragnvald’s golden wolf. “Prove it, then,” Harald said. “Say you accept this. Surely you are wise enough to see it will help my cause with the other districts.”

  “Yes,” said Ragnvald, his voice shaking with anger.

  “You will not leave me?” Harald asked. “Even though your sister has?”

  “Are you trying to push me into it?” Ragnvald asked. He sighed heavily. “As you said, she left me too.”

  “I should not doubt you,” Harald replied, relief in his voice. “You are my best and wisest friend.”

  “And yet you punish me,” said Ragnvald bitterly. “I will follow you, but I will never be happy about this. Will you at least forgive Rolli now?” If Harald forgave Rolli, then Hilda might forgive him. Though he would no longer have Rolli as a weapon against Halfdan.

  “Yes, I suppose so,” said Harald. “Aldi said he would accept that.”

  At least Ragnvald would have some good news to give Hilda. He would send a messenger inviting Rolli to meet their forces in the Orkneys next summer. And he would wait for the opportunity to get his land back. Perhaps Aldi would take Maer as a trade. Or marry their children and join the two districts, as he had always intended.

  “You will come with me to root out these pirates,” Harald continued, “and all of my other allies must send a son, or come themselves.”

  “Hostages?” Ragnvald asked, with a hint of humor, though he felt like a warrior who had been badly wounded and feared to look at the damage. Sogn had been cut off from him, his ancestors cut off from him. He would have rather lost a limb.

  Harald grinned. “Allies.”

  “Father, let me go after her,” said Einar. He had been hanging back this while—perhaps listening to what passed between Ragnvald and Harald. Well enough—he should know what it cost to be a king’s friend. “While you collect these allies, Ivar and I can overtake her and Rolli.”

  “You think so?” Ragnvald asked. “She is blessed by all the gods of wind and sea. You will not catch her.”

  Harald turned his gaze back toward the horizon. “I want no more songs sung of Svanhild Eysteinsdatter,” he said. “I will tell the skalds. They must all be forgotten.”

  * * *

  As Ragnvald walked back toward his camp, he saw Ivar with Harald’s sons Halfdan and Gudrod, playing as though they had not toppled all that Ragnvald had worked for. Ivar noticed Ragnvald, said something to Halfdan and Gudrod, who laughed, and then he trotted over to join Ragnvald.

  “I do not want to speak with you,” said Ragnvald. “You are better off with your new friends. One of them will probably be king of Sogn one day, so you should make sure to ingratiate yourself with them.”

  “Not Halfdan, surely!” said Ivar. “Harald must punish him for his rebellion. I was only trying to cheer him up.”

  Ragnvald shook his head. “I wonder that you can be so cheerful with all that you have cost me.”

  “Father, we were trying to help! You have done many bold and foolish things over the years, you cannot begrudge me this.”

  “Can I not?” Ragnvald asked. “You will find that men judge outcomes, not intentions. If you don’t believe me, ask your brother Rolli.”

  “I did my best,” Ivar insisted.

  “Did you present your wrists to them? And when you were captured, you very cleverly diced with them?”

  “What else was I to do, Father?” Ivar asked. His lightheartedness rasped at Ragnvald. “Should I have run away only to have them tie me up? Should I have forced them to torture me?” He glanced at Ragnvald’s hands. Ragnvald’s knuckles felt tight, on the edge of pain, as they always did, even on his best days, and he flexed them in answer.

  “That was different,” Ragnvald said. “I wanted Solvi to believe that he could still beat Harald. I was setting a trap.”

  “And I was setting a different kind of trap. Why should I make them hate and fear me if I could make friends among them? Halfdan trusts me now—is that not an advantage?”

  “Have you learned anything useful from him?” Ragnvald asked.

  Ivar looked down at the pebbles that made up the beach. Ragnvald began walking again. Ivar was as useless as he feared, Einar as untrustworthy. Thorir was a follower, not a leader, and Rolli foolish enough to get himself outlawed before he even reached the age of majority. The proverbs said that a man rich in sons was rich indeed, yet Ragnvald was still a pauper.

  “He hates you,” Ivar called out behind him. “Far more than his father. He blames you that he is not more elevated. He thinks you plot against King Harald.”

  Ragnvald whirled to face him. “And did you encourage him in this? Complain about your fathers as boys have done since time began?”

  “You are more suspicious than ten men, Father,” said Ivar. “You always expect the worst of people.”

  “And you will be killed, expecting the best,” Ragnvald replied. “Well, you will face some punishment for this. Harald is giving Sogn to Aldi—you will not inherit the land of our ancestors.”

  “Does that mean that Rolli’s outlawry is lifted?” Ivar asked brightly. Ragnvald wanted to hit him—perhaps violence would teach him where words had failed.

  “Do you not hear me? Your inheritance is gone.”

  “What of Maer?” Ivar asked. “Harald would not take that from you too.”

  “He has left me Maer,” said Ragnvald. “But that is a gift from him, not ours by right. And gifts can be taken away.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Ivar. “You said he took Sogn.”

  “I did,” said Ragnvald. Ivar would not let himself understand—he had lived his whole life in Maer. Maybe it truly would make him happier than Sogn, and he would not mind ruling there at Harald’s sufferance. “It will take all of my guile and craft to hold on to even Maer for you, when everyone around me wants to take it away.”

  “Everyone, Father? You sound mad.”

  “It is not madness when King Harald has taken Sogn from me again.”

  Ivar still looked at him blankly. Ragnvald saw Hilda crouched by the fire, arranging some sticks to hold a pot of stew over it. Her shoulders seemed rounded, defeated. “Go to your mother,” said Ragnvald. “Harald will allow Rolli to come back to us, but your mother will still miss him terribly. She will want your comfort. Rolli left without even bidding her farewell.”

  Ivar looked happy to have a task as he walked away. He had revealed something useful, at least, though Ragnvald could have guessed Halfdan’s hatred of him.

  Halfdan was still talking with his brother Gudrod, now showing him a dagger covered with Irish metalwork when Ragnvald approached. Must he fear that Halfdan had made an alliance with the Irish Norse as well?

  “Greetings,” he said to Halfdan. “I have been talking with your father. What punishment do you think is fair for your rebellion?”

  Halfdan looked shocked for a moment but covered it quickly. His eyes were a paler blue than Harald’s, lacking his warmth. “My father does not believe me a rebel. I have told him I was only working on his behalf, as you were, these past years. Or so you claim.”

  “Without your allies, I suppose you are little danger,” said Ragnvald. “Still, I will be watching.”

  “Good,” said Halfdan. “
And I will be watching you.”

  “He does not believe me a rebel either,” said Ragnvald. Gudrod stood still, next to Halfdan, looking as though he hoped his stillness would keep him from notice. Perhaps Gudrod would be a witness Harald would trust.

  “Maybe not,” said Halfdan. “But he will. Your wife has spoken words that will be echoed by every rebel in the north. ‘Wolflike,’ making men into deer—your wife is more clever than I ever thought before.”

  She had found the worst time to exhibit that cleverness, but Ragnvald felt some grudging pride at Halfdan’s words.

  Halfdan’s smile faded. “You have too much ambition to be trusted,” he said.

  “We are much alike then,” Ragnvald replied.

  “In this we are not,” said Halfdan. “Even if I kill you, my father will forgive me. But if you kill me, my father will kill you in turn. Think on that.”

  “Is that what you want from me? To die on your sword?” Ragnvald asked.

  “It would be more advantageous to have you as my ally than my enemy. You want your son Ivar to inherit Sogn, even with all of my brothers clamoring for land. Do not oppose me when I make my move, and I will make certain that he does.”

  Halfdan did not even know yet that Harald had taken Sogn from him, and he still knew what to offer. Ragnvald supposed that any other man would betray Harald after today, but he could not think that choice would lead to anything other than his ruin, no matter what Halfdan offered. Ragnvald had pledged his life to Harald, and he would give it. His only choice was whether to die with honor or not.

  “And if I do oppose you?” Ragnvald asked. He should at least find out what alliances Halfdan had made. King Erik of Jutland would back Halfdan again if he saw an advantage in it—and Halfdan could have made cause with any number of overseas vikings and district kings.

  “Battles are uncertain, and Ivar is young and untried.” Halfdan shrugged. “I will protect him as well as you protect me.”

  24

  Svanhild hardly slept on the crossing to Iceland. She felt alive as she had not since the battle of Hafrsfjord. Now, leaving Norway behind, her blood sang with the breeze. Solvi would be old, she knew that. He might hate her. They would fight, she knew, cry and rage. She would call him a fool and a lout and throw things at him, and then kiss him and make love to him. She had been missing him for so long.