by Derek Nelsen
Before disappearing into the forest, his tone lifted as he praised the only things in his life that never argued, never complained, and were always happy to see him. “How are you feeling today pups? Ready to do some hunting? Me too.”
Pedar’s Offer
“Tor, can we talk?”
“I’ve really got to get going, Pedar.” All Tor wanted was to get out of this village.
“It’s important.” To him, everything was important.
“Alright,” Tor thought of a solution, “only if you take this goat to your farm and hold her for me until I get back. I was trying to go hunting when I saw her, and I really don’t want to go home right now.”
Pedar looked confused when Tor handed him the rope. “Will you be able to find her again if I have the men just put her in with mine?”
Sometimes Tor couldn’t believe this man held the biggest farm in the village. “They wear my mark. I can always find my own.”
Pedar didn’t look like he believed him. “Tor, that was quite a moment you had back in the hall. How are you doing?”
“Is that what you stopped me for?”
Pedar shook his head. “You could’ve been the leader of this village.”
What is this man talking about? “I never wanted that, Pedar.” Tor looked up at the sun, he guessed he still had some time. “I support the council of our elders. I never wanted the empty throne.”
Pedar looked scared of the little goat. “I understand. You are loyal to this village and to Old Erik and Afi. That is not in question. But you saw that Viking. You are the only one in this village even capable of standing against men like that.”
“Give her to me.” Tor tied the little nanny to the back of Pedar’s horse. “Would you have me take the throne and end our tradition of self-rule under a common law? Of abiding under something greater than a man?”
“No, no, no.” Pedar cleaned his hands in the snow, then shook them off, as if afraid to defile his fur coat. “I would have you convince the elders we need to forge an alliance with Jarl Adar, to unite the Sogn.”
“Adar? The merchant?” Tor could not believe this man stopped him to talk about politics, now of all times. “Pedar, it’s cold out here, and I’ve got to get going. Can’t we talk about this over a beer sometime in the hall? We’ve got all winter for this.”
“You never want to talk about these things,” said Pedar. “If you’d let me talk about it in the hall without constantly changing the subject then I wouldn’t have to stand out here freezing just to get your attention. This is urgent. Things are about to change around here.”
“Why?” Tor asked. “Because three Vikings shipwrecked on our shores? Why would that make me want to pledge to a man like Adar? No matter how much men like you want to believe it, wealth does not make a leader. And since when did Adar become a jarl?”
“He negotiated an alliance with Sveinn and Jǫfurr. That covers the villages to the North. And Kál Ólisen, which brings in the South. He’s got the Fjord already—you just didn’t know it. Joining voluntarily ensures opportunity for men like us and our families.”
This man is delusional. “Men like us?”
The goat butted Pedar on the knee. He kicked at it and shooed it away. “And will protect our neighbors from the threat of Vikings like Vidar’s father.”
“Right now, I just want to protect them from Vidar.” Tor knocked the snow off his skis, trying to drop the hint that he was going somewhere. Then he leaned back on his poles. “Adar has no experience in war. If anything, a Sogn united behind a man like that makes it more of a target for men like Olaf.”
“Before becoming jarl, Adar presided over a vast area with many villages along the southern shore of the fjord.” Pedar struggled back atop his horse. Fjord horses weren’t tall, but neither was Pedar. “I have traded with Adar for many years. His people live well, and he also leaves an empty throne as a reminder that he governs under the law, not under some priest speaking on behalf of the gods or in service to a would-be king like Harald Fairhair.”
“Kings or gods or jarls or elder councils, I have seen little difference in my life. All are manipulated. Whether by women or ambitious men, they are all under the influence of trolls of some kind, from this world or another.” Tor began to ski into the forest.
Pedar dodged limbs as he followed on horseback, goat in tow. “You speak in rants of sentimentality, as if nothing will change as long as you believe it shouldn’t.” He spat after having his teeth brushed by pine needles. “You said it yourself; wealth does not make a leader. This village needs a warrior to give us position in a changing world. If you won’t align with the Vikings, then help me convince these people to ally with the rest of the fjord.”
Tor kept skiing, pulling his sledge of supplies through forest too dense to be traversed on horseback. “If you’re coming with me, maybe you’d have an easier time of it riding on the back of that goat.”
“Tor!” Pedar sounded upset. “Stop for one second, please! This spring, Adar is hosting a Gulating, the first for all the villages of the Sogn. After the laws have been spoken and the ceremonies are finished, Adar will choose his thingmen. Our families need to be there to represent this village.”
Tor stopped skiing and looked intently at his friend. Am I just a pawn to this man? “How long have you been planning this alliance with your trading partners, Pedar? What has Adar promised you?”
Pedar looked flustered. “Can I tell you a secret? I wish you’d have taken control of the village when you first arrived. No one would’ve tried to stop you. Afi would have stepped down, and maybe you’d have been the one to unite the Sogn. Things could have been different—for all of us.”
“You say this to me now? After fifteen years? I never wanted anything here to change.” Wait, is this man blaming this on me? “Pedar, how many years have you been silently watching Adar grab his power? And this is the first you’ve mentioned it. Does Afi know?”
“None of that matters, does it? The time for you to act passed years ago. Now, we must ally with someone who showed ambition while there was still opportunity. The only question now is whose kingdom will we join? After the Gulathing of Sogn, even Jarl Adar will be strong enough to take us if he wants. We might as well profit from it. Gain a position.”
Tor dropped his gaze and just shook his head.
“Why are you so stubborn?” asked Pedar. “Are you so principled that you’re willing to let this village change hands without even trying to direct where it falls? Are you willing to throw away this chance at prosperity? Your sons’ only chance—if I am being honest?”
“My sons?” replied Tor. “I am trying to protect our sons, and daughters.” Tor looked into Pedar’s nervous eyes. “But maybe it‘s too late for that. I believe you are trying to think of the village as much as yourself, here. But I understand these types of men. In some ways, jarls and kings are worse than Vikings. Unless you have an army, there’s no allying with them. It’s why Vikings raid and move on, because politics are too dangerous.
What happens when the next village refuses to join Jarl Adar? Do you think he and his council will act any different than Olaf? No. The more power he gains the more authority he’ll demand.”
Tor loosened his grip when he heard his ski poles begin to crack. He’d only been home one day, and he felt like all the arrows of his past were being shot toward his home—and his neighbors were lining up to help pull back the bowstring.
Tor had one more point. “Peaceful Adar will lead us into war, maybe not with Olaf at first, maybe with that small defiant village, like us. Maybe it won’t be for conquest, but in the name of peace, or food, or water. Maybe it will be to help some king up north we didn’t know we’d agreed to protect. And for war or peace, it doesn’t matter which, Adar and his council will form an army. And our children will be the ones who are sacrificed.
“I would choose we have that fight on our own terms, right here. We are under no threat right now. Our village is still hidden, is
it not?”
Pedar’s cheeks flushed red. “Of course, it is. Tor, don’t you see. You’ve made my point for me. We can choose our own destiny, choose whether we will fight a fight we cannot win, or join someone who can and will reward us for our allegiance. For our children’s sake, shouldn’t we make sure we’re on the winning side?”
“Stop it with the children already.” Tor skied deeper into the trees.
“Can we stop them now? They are here!” Pedar melted some snow against his red cheeks. “You can thank the gods for any arrangements I’ve made with Adar. Because alliances must be forged before the powerful arrive at your door. Not after.”
Tor always told his sons, even a small axe will eventually fell a mighty oak. Pedar had made his point. As Tor started his ascent up the mountain, he felt an uneasy peace, the kind you get when you finally understand. He knew the true enemy and understood what needed to be done.
A Girl in the House
Kiara was not expected or wanted, but Tor’s pet arrived just the same.
“Set the table, girl.” Runa’s shoulders were as tight as if Freyja herself were dropping by for a cup of spruce tea. She was not friendly to ‘the Christian’ or ‘the girl’, for those were things she called her, but it didn’t take long before she warmed to the idea of having a servant.
Kiara turned out to be a good one. In preparing for the guests she juggled stirring the pot, stoking the fire, and putting out bread and cheese and lingonberry jam.
In the spring, Toren was to marry Anja, Pedar and Skadi’s daughter. Runa and Skadi had been negotiating the details of the arrangement since Toren got his soul.
During better days, Runa’s father had built servants’ quarters that Runa had been busy preparing for the marriage. The house would make up the bulk of the bride price. In return, Anja’s dowry was generous enough to provide solvency for Runa’s father’s farm. It was a good match.
Dogs barked. Runa peeked out the door. “Hurry girl. And do something with yourself. You look terrible.” Runa jerked the copper pan out of Kiara’s hand, the one she used for a mirror, and checked herself one more time.
Anja came in first. She looked Kiara up and down, pulled off her fur hat, pushed it into the girl’s hands, and walked directly to the fire. “I miss the sun already.” Her pink lips pouted. Even after trudging in from the snow Anja was beautiful. The cold gave her cheeks a faint blush. Just opening the door made Kiara’s cheeks as red as her hair. Anja’s long brown mane held together in a long, tight, perfect braid, woven in a way that it lay neatly over her right shoulder. Kiara’s untameable hair lifted off her head and crackled with electricity the second she took Anja’s hat.
“Don’t be dramatic, Anja. There are still some leaves on the trees,” said her mother. Skadi walked past Kiara, took off her furs, and handed them to Runa. She looked Kiara up and down like she was examining a fish at the market.
Skadi was striking. With long, black, perfectly combed hair and pale, soft skin, she hardly looked like she’d been outside at all. Skadi pushed a piece of Kiara’s hair out of her face and tucked it behind her left ear. Then she took her daughter’s hat from the girl’s hand and added it to the pile, tucking it under Runa’s chin.
“She’s prettier than you let on, Runa.”
“Do you think so? I don’t know—”
The door opened, and Toren walked in. “I gave the horses something to eat.” He stopped in the doorway to look at Kiara, then Anja, as if surprised to see them together. Toren’s future was established. He was seventeen—a good age for marriage, and as Tor’s eldest son, someday he would inherit everything—including the care of his stepmother.
And this match would make sure he could afford to do it well.
Erik slipped sideways past his big brother.
He pushed Anja to the side so he could warm his hands. “Make way woman, it’s cold out there.”
“Erik, go back where you came from. No one is here to see you.” As the youngest son, Erik had no right to anything. Runa felt like he forgot this sometimes. So, she reminded him of it daily.
Anja pushed Erik back. “Are you still here?”
“Not much longer, that I can promise you.” Runa reminded him of that daily, too.
“Toren, beat up your little brother for me.” Anja played with men the way a broke musician might browse through a room full of overpriced instruments.
“Little? You and I are the same age.”
Runa shoved a small sack in Erik’s hand and pushed him toward the door. “Out, out. You are supposed to be cutting firewood.”
Erik twisted out of her grip and stole cheese off the table, stuffed it in his mouth, and slipped out the door.
Erik had a natural charm that made mothers of eligible daughters despise him almost as much as Runa.
Skadi scowled at Anja until she stopped smiling. “I thought he’d be gone by now, Runa. I don’t know how you manage to feed everyone.” Skadi tended to sound tired when she was being a witch. Poor thing. “Now you’ve got her to worry about.” She turned her scowl toward Kiara.
The future in-laws had never been friends, but they were pragmatic for the sake of their shared interests. Wealth, power, and position—and the children. Of course, the children.
“Erik will be gone after the thaw.” Runa wanted to be clear. “He gets his soul ring this year, then he’s off.”
Kiara looked at Toren, as if he would explain. Runa was sure Anja noticed the look, too. “Don’t you have something you should be doing?” Everyone stared at Kiara as she scurried back to the kitchen, which was only four feet away from where she had been standing.
Runa tolerated Kiara, but unless she needed something, she mostly treated her as if she wasn’t there. “I think Erik’s got the girl confused. I think he likes her a little and doesn’t realize how hard that makes it for her to know her place.”
Kiara seasoned the pot.
“Maybe they’re both confused.” Skadi wouldn’t take her eyes off the girl. “Do you know who she reminds me of?”
Runa corralled the couple toward the door. “Toren, why don’t you take Anja for a walk?”
“She looks like Toren and Erik’s mother, doesn’t she?” Skadi couldn’t help but stir up trouble.
Toren’s head snapped toward the girl. Kiara kept stirring an over-stirred pot.
Witch. “It’s been so long since she passed.” Runa tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed. “Maybe that awful red hair.”
“It’s more than that. Surely Tor’s mentioned it?”
“No.” Runa hurried into her bedroom, then emerged again with Anja’s coat and hat. Kiara was still stirring, and Toren was still staring. “Toren, show your betrothed the progress on the house. You don’t want to hear our gossip and scheming.” Runa shuttled them outside. “But stay close, I doubt her mother plans to stay long.”
“You’re lucky Tor grabbed her. I know you can use the help.”
Runa was tired of Skadi telling her how lucky she was.
Skadi smiled. “I don’t know what I’d do without Elsa.”
Everything Skadi said was as painful as a cut finger, but at least she’d stopped talking about the boy’s mother.
“I’m glad to have some help in the house, but it’s a job just keeping the girl straight. It was almost easier doing everything myself.”
“Girl, I think you’ve stirred that pot enough,” Skadi laughed.
You should talk. Runa started thinking of ways she could get this woman out of her house. Until she could figure out how, she pretended she was happy. She’d become adept at that over the years. “The girl is actually a pretty good cook. Apparently, stew is as common in Ireland as it is in Norway.”
Skadi spooned through the lapskaus until she found a piece of meat. “Mmm. Apparently.” She pushed the bowl away and pretended to be confiding in Runa. “I think I’m just used to the way Elsa makes it.”
Runa eyed the knife next to the loaf of bread and considered the consequences of murd
er. “The boys have really been helpful, lately. Fences are getting mended, and animals are getting fed without complaint. How’s Ragi been? Has he decided to learn a little something about farming, or is he going to be more of a hunter or fisherman?” Runa knew she shouldn’t bring up Skadi’s stepson’s incompetence, but it felt good to remind her neighbor that not everything about her life was a blessing from the gods.
“You don’t want to talk about farming, do you?” Skadi looked bored. “We have tenant's and servants for all of that. Ragnall’s got a mind for trading, like his father.”
So far, the only thing the fifteen-year-old had managed to succeed in was to build himself a second chin and a soft belly. Runa really did hope that he would become half the man he envisioned himself to be, though. Maybe he would hire Erik and send him off to trade somewhere far away.
Skadi crushed the end off the bread with the knife. “When did your boys start helping out more? Was it after the girl moved in?” She put the crumpled loaf next to Runa’s bowl.
Runa pushed her bowl and bread away, both untouched. “What are you getting at?”
“I’m not sure if it’s wise to have my future son-in-law under the same roof with this foreigner. Maybe red hair has some power over the men in your family. Pedar said Tor wanted to drown the Vikings, yet he offered his house to help this...Christian slave.” She rubbed the crumbs from her fingers onto the table. “Some of our men even said they thought she might be a witch.”
“She understands what we’re saying, you know,” said Runa. “The Vikings spent all summer at her village before they were forced to take to sea. Even an idiot would learn something after all that.”