by Suzie Wilde
Bera began. ‘Hefnir demands we decide tonight: stay or go. First, I want to remind you all that we are here because I predicted famine in Seabost.’
‘Which hasn’t happened,’ said Hefnir.
‘Which may not now happen,’ Bera agreed, keeping her voice level.
Hefnir prodded his chest. ‘Only because folk who stayed behind can ration everything we couldn’t take. And there aren’t so many mouths now. Thanks to me.’
One of the men pointed homewards. ‘What do you mean? Are you saying that Serpent King killed folk after...?’ He faltered.
Bera broke in. ‘Say it. After beheading my father. The Serpent’s sworn enemy is Hefnir, not plain folk. Ottar was the scapegoat. Now he will travel to Iraland to fight Hefnir there.’
Hefnir jeered. ‘Don’t try to make folk fear the place. Why would he go there?’
‘Because that’s where you’re going, with or without us. You made plans with Egill and shared them with your thrall: the Serpent’s spy.’
Hefnir pointed at the moon and his head. Moonstruck.
‘I’ve not lost my wits, Hefnir, but found them. It’s true, Egill, isn’t it?’
Egill looked everywhere but then nodded.
‘You may have been using the spy to get news to the Serpent for years.’
Folk gasped. Bera kept her eyes on Thorvald, who didn’t flicker.
She went on. ‘I scried in Egill’s bowl and saw this place. My skern says its name is Ice Island.’
‘Your skern!’ Hefnir sneered. ‘I suppose it’s standing next to you.’
‘He’s close.’
Hefnir put on a baby voice. ‘It’s an imaginary friend dreamt up by a lonely little girl. Whose father wanted a boy.’
Bera ignored him. ‘You all believe in skerns. Twin spirits.’
Dellingr agreed. ‘I forged entwined twins as iron brackets for every torch in the hall. Doubly safe.’
Bera wanted to frighten them. What they called superstition in Seabost was a reality – and she alone could protect them.
‘Anyone not joined by his skern will become a Drorgher, and walk forever in search of company, preying on the living.’
There were no Drorghers on the beach but the folk who didn’t believe in them made hammer signs and scanned the lengthening shadows all the same.
Bera took up her stance. ‘I have beaten back Drorghers my whole life.’
Folk edged closer to her.
Hefnir forced a laugh. ‘Superstitious crap. I say we are lucky to make it here alive.’
‘Not luck. My Valla power and your boat-skill.’
He ignored her generosity. ‘We’ll die if we stay. This is where your famine will be.’
‘So now you agree there will be a famine? So I can predict the future?’
‘No! I—’
‘You don’t know your own folk, Hefnir. We’re not afraid of hard work. The land looks rich.’
Hefnir picked up a handful of sand. ‘Looks like Hel’s arsehole if you ask me.’ He looked cunning. ‘In fact, we were told that’s exactly what it is.’
‘Who by?’ Dellingr asked.
‘Someone who came here by chance and had the sense to leave it.’
Bera held up her arms to stop the chatter. ‘He’s talking about Egill. The one who loves danger. But this isn’t the land she described.’
Where was Egill? Perhaps she realised where she was, despite it being a kinder place than she feared.
‘Besides, I use Valla skills to save us from her mischief.’
‘What skills?’ Hefnir scoffed. ‘Ottar said you had none.’
‘I was trying to learn my mother’s instead of finding my own. You saw my success, Hefnir, and should trust me now.’
A bugling cry rose to a crescendo as eight swans came in from the sea, silver-winged and stately. The reminder softened Hefnir’s face.
‘Yes, Hefnir. Whistling swans.’
The small opening closed and he jabbed a finger at her. ‘You did learn from your mother. Ottar said you make things up, just like her.’
‘Ottar said I would be unfaithful but I have always been your good, true wife – and everyone knows it.’
It was a risk and Bera could smell unease. They all knew the rumours.
‘It’s the opposite.’ Asa’s voice was shrill. ‘We’ve all seen you making cow-eyes at my man; going up to the forge every whip-stitch. You cheated to get Dellingr here and if you had only let us be... if you had only...’ She fell to her knees on the black sand.
Her daughter knelt and hugged her. Accusation glittered in everyone’s eyes, including Heggi’s.
‘Asa. I swear to you on all that is most precious to me; on my mother’s necklace...’
Hefnir laughed. ‘Very convincing, swearing on cheap beads, given by a betraying wife. Deny that!’
Bera felt panic flutter in her chest. ‘Then I swear on... the head of my son Heggi that the draw was fair. Dellingr is no more than a trusted friend.’
‘It’s true,’ Sigrid said.
Hefnir’s voice was dark. ‘You have sworn on my son’s life and will forfeit your own if he suffers from your lies.’
Heggi roughly wiped the end of his nose with his sleeve but Bera couldn’t comfort him. She was in a mortal battle with Hefnir for leadership. Why was it so important to go to Iraland? Was he a full partner of the Serpent King’s?
‘This is a distraction, Hefnir. I tell you all again, I am honest and I predict success in Ice Island.’
Hefnir pulled her round to face inland. His smell was sharp. ‘Look. There’s nothing out there. Nothing. There’s no wood to build with. The place I am going to is a couple of days away. There is a city there called Dyflin with endless riches ready for the taking.’
‘To be fair, we have not seen it,’ said Thorvald.
Hefnir looked as though his dog had bitten him. ‘Fair?’
Bera stepped away. ‘What is a “city” but another of Egill’s tales? Yes, that poor soul, mad with grief and loss. Greed makes Hefnir listen to her. Egill deserves our pity. She was completely wrong about this place and, frankly, I would not follow Egill into a pantry.’
Folk needed the relief of laughter and it was loud.
Hefnir shouted. ‘I brought wealth to Seabost. You all did very well out of me.’
‘That’s the past, Hefnir. We’re here to discuss our future.’
He went to stand with his crewmen. ‘The discussion is over. Apart from these men, you are all free. Stay or go; the choice is yours.’
‘Hefnir, folk are dropping. Let’s begin again in the morning.’
‘You know you’ll be left here alone if they choose now.’
‘I doubt it – but I’m only thinking of them.’
He skipped closer to the settlers and dropped his voice, so they had to strain to hear his silky words.
‘It’s easy,’ he wheedled. ‘Do you want to come with me and live or stay here and die?’
There was silence. Then a man said something to his neighbour, who punched him. There were more insults and shoving. All the pent-up emotion flared into a fistfight. Faces contorted into masks of rage. Women and children joined in, too.
Thorvald was at Hefnir’s shoulder, sword ready. His wreck of a face was carved by moonlight, inscrutable as ever. Bera scanned the mob for Heggi and saw his dog first, standing rigid with hackles raised. He guarded the boy, who was sitting apart in a ball of fear. For a ghastly moment he looked like Egill.
The fight raged on.
Bera acted on the instinct of song. At first the ache of loss thinned her voice but she pressed on and then Sigrid joined in. When the second verse came the children’s clear, high voices rang out:
‘In the blood, in the blood,
Feel the rumble and the tumble
And the boat-song in your blood.’
Bjorn’s verse. Bera was crying too much to sing well – but she had rekindled fellowship and brought folk to their senses. It was raw, full-chested singing that was t
ruly a heart-song from all their childhoods, of innocence.
‘In the heart, in the heart,
Feel the pulsing of the whale-road
And the boat-song in your heart.’
They made a hammer circle, arms outstretched to hold shoulders, forged into an unbroken link. They sang it again, louder, and their strong voices pushed back the creeping darkness and unknown terrors. They were telling the new land who they were and that they were not afraid.
The song conjured for Bera the first tiny boat Ottar made for her, with its particular melody and the boat-song of all his vessels. Longships were her lifeblood and she loved every plank and nail with a passion that might be her own Valla strength.
The song ended and Hefnir spoke before they could think. ‘For the final time, I ask each man to choose: either to stay here with a rudderless girl or come with a battle-honed, storm-proved raider to unimagined riches!’
Folk looked down at the sand as if the answer was written there. A sudden wind flattened the fire and blew smoke out to sea. Some logs fell in with a crash and the flames crackled back into life.
Sigrid shook herself like a hen. ‘Well, I’m staying. No one’s getting me on a boat again, ever, but in any case I believe in Bera. This is the place.’
She left Thorvald and stomped across the sand to Bera, glaring at Hefnir as she passed.
Hefnir bowed. ‘Thank you, Sigrid. Oh, but of course you never will get on a boat again. None of you will. Once my boat leaves, that’s it. You’ll have to stay here. There’s no timber to build another and no Ottar to do it.’
He was attacking Bera. To never travel the sea paths again was to lose her being. Her whole body ached with loss. She could not let Hefnir take her father’s one remaining boat. But how could she bear him to stay after this?
While she reeled, Dellingr stepped forward. If he chose to go with Hefnir they all would.
‘Please. Wait!’ Bera’s voice cracked. The trail of unwitting harm she had done the smith’s family counted against her and she desperately searched for the right words. But she was so, so tired.
‘Bera, you don’t need to try and persuade us,’ Dellingr said. ‘You don’t have to argue against the glib stuff we know he can spout whenever he likes.’
He was telling her to give up. But then she properly heard what he had said and was glad.
‘You lovesick fool,’ sneered Hefnir.
Dellingr turned to the others. ‘You all know what this is about. It’s about what Bera has done in the past, as woman and Valla; her judgements and the warnings we took no heed of. She cured our sickness and kept the evil she calls Drorghers away. You saw how she worked like a thrall on the boat coming over. This is about who she is.’ He moved closer to his family. ‘Look at me, Asa. I never lie. There has been no dishonour between Bera and me.’ He stretched out a hand.
Asa would not take it. ‘Don’t.’
‘Come on. Trust me.’
She turned away, pulling her daughter closer to her.
Bera found a new kind of courage. There was a time to attack and a time to admit defeat.
She spoke quietly but forcefully. ‘I am truly sorry, Asa. There was a time when I needed Dellingr’s strength and that was what you saw. He’s right: there was no dishonour, ever, but perhaps I took something from him that should have been yours alone. If you choose to go with Hefnir, I understand. I am strong now and your husband must not cause you to stay for my sake.’
Asa met her eyes. There was no warmth. ‘We stay.’
She stiffly crossed to join Sigrid and Dellingr followed, though he did not acknowledge Bera. Another family came with them.
‘Thank you,’ said Bera. The time of guilt and fear, of wondering who she was, had ended and her folk saw that.
Hefnir seized a spar from the fire and made a furrow in the sand. ‘Right. See this line, here? This is a serious choice. My side or hers. Come on. Where’s your loyalty?’
Thorvald stepped over the furrow and joined Hefnir. Sigrid gave a low moan and seized Bera’s hand. Her nails dug into the palm.
‘Well, I’m glad you’re showing sense,’ Hefnir said.
Thorvald spoke slowly, holding his gashed lip taut, so that his words were clear. ‘I have been your second for many years, Hefnir. I gained this ugly face in your service, protecting you when you were... busy. It was my own choice. I am a free man. So, as a free man, this is my choice. I did not cross the sand to join you. I came, in honour, to shake your hand in parting. I choose to stay here with my wife and my leader. I choose Bera.’
Bera was stunned. Thorvald chose her. She had always wanted his respect, she recognised. Joy throbbed in her hot hand, which Sigrid squeezed.
Hefnir put an arm round Thorvald.
‘Don’t leave me, Thorvald,’ he wheedled. ‘You don’t mean it, do you? We’re too close. You love me.’
‘I served you too long, shutting my eyes to your weakness. For the money.’
Hefnir pushed him away.
‘Well, I don’t want you!’ His spit flew. ‘Stay with the old bitch, you coward. The whole scabrous lot of you are cowards! You dishonour your blood. Where’s your ancestors’ lust for sea and adventure? Why choose to stay here and do women’s work?’
‘Hardly cowardice to face the hardships you’re predicting for us,’ said Bera. ‘Make your mind up, Hefnir.’
Heggi rushed forward, to stand between them.
‘Stop it! Stop shouting! I thought we were coming here to be together! Don’t go straight off again, Papa. You’re always going off. I thought we were going to all live here like a proper family!’
‘You’ll have to come with me, son, if you want a proper family.’ Hefnir held out a hand. ‘It’s you and me: father and son.’
Bera flashed. ‘You asked me to be his mother.’
‘Because you are not.’
‘Folk swore that I am his mother. So did I.’
Their anger was like a wolf circling the beach, with Heggi at its centre. Hefnir slowly pointed at his crew, then his farmer, then the undecided and lastly the folk with Bera.
‘Then you can all bear witness to this. Your real mother did not die, Heggi. The sea-riders took her. She might be in Iraland. Wouldn’t you like to go and see her?’
‘Not true!’ Bera was in turmoil – what could she say that would not damage Heggi?
Thorvald got between them. ‘If it’s truth-time, Hefnir, I’ll tell the whole of it. You let Heggi’s mother be forced by the sea-riders at your own hearth and you did nothing except send me off in a chase-boat when it was too late. While you stood by it was the Serpent King who tried hardest to save her – and see where that ended. He’s the living proof of your dishonour.’
Perfidy. Violation. Blood soaked into the longhouse walls. Bera dare not say Heggi’s mother slit her own throat. He was already terrified.
Hefnir raised his sword. All the air seemed to vanish from the black well of the beach, where deep shadows stained the sand blacker. This was something about the Serpent, something bad. Bera tried to stop Hefnir but he shook her off and pointed the sword at Heggi.
‘Then tell my son, Thorvald. Tell them all who I married. Tell them why the Serpent King tried to save her and whose black blood Heggi carries.’
Finally, Bera understood the final piece of the puzzle. The small boy playing with the Serpent. The lovely woman who kissed them, Heggi’s mother, was his sister. No wonder her brother, the Serpent King, was out for blood. But it also meant his evil was in Heggi’s nature.
‘Stop this!’ Bera pushed Hefnir’s sword down. ‘Heggi is your son. He is innocent. He needs no more pain.’
Hefnir crouched down to speak to him. ‘You have stirrings in your blood, don’t you, Heggi? Just like your family. You want to be a man like your father – and your uncle, the Serpent King.’
‘No!’ Heggi screamed.
He pushed past his father and ran full pelt with Rakki barking frenziedly beside him. They made for the line of rocks opposite.<
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If Bera went after him, she would lose the other settlers.
‘Keep him safe, Thorvald,’ she said. He was already on his way.
Bera swung at Hefnir. She punched him, hard, to wipe the smirk from his uncaring face. ‘You bullying, selfish, dishonourable bastard. The Serpent said you were and he was right! We’re better off without you.’
‘It’s like a flea bite, your hitting.’ Though he rubbed his cheek.
Bera’s anger was blazing ice, cold and pure. ‘Well? You others. Make your mind up. Are you going with this... person, or staying with me?’ She made the furrow clear again with the point of her foot. ‘This side is a new beginning. There will be new laws of sharing and ownership. It’s true that we cannot escape when things get difficult – like he has always done – so it means we have to make good where we are.’
The men looked at each other, then at their wives, then at the sky, clearly hoping Fate would decide for them. A few shuffled past Hefnir, who snarled at them like a wolf, and they jumped the furrow to Bera’s side. Others ran flat out.
All but the crew were now gathered behind Bera.
Hefnir laughed. ‘Who needs cowards? The boat’s about fixed, so we’ll leave at first light. Any of you who want to join me can do so under cover of darkness and no more will be said about it. But a sluggish wolf gets no prey. I wait for no man.’
Bera knew the only defection he cared about was Thorvald’s and the only man he would take back was his second. But Thorvald was gone.
Hefnir walked over to Dellingr. ‘This is for you and your friend.’ He spat in his face and then ran with his crew towards the boat.
Bera and Asa leapt to hold the smith back.
‘He’s not worth it,’ said Asa.
Dellingr nodded and the women let him go.
‘Which friend?’ Bera asked.
‘Thorvald. We’ve been close ever since boyhood.’
So that was why Thorvald was often at the forge – not to spy on her. Was Hefnir more jealous of Thorvald’s friendship with Dellingr than hers?
‘If you’d attacked Hefnir, Thorvald would have had to take revenge.’
‘Is that why you stopped me?’
Perhaps. Bera needed to start being sure about her reasons.