Hastein yanked his seax from its scabbard and charged. Olaf used the momentum of his fall to roll over his shoulder and rise. As he came to his feet, Hastein stabbed with his seax, but Olaf was faster and caught Hastein's blade between his own. Hastein brought his shield in from the left, meaning to ram Olaf with its metal boss, but Olaf spun around the blow and whipped the seax in his left hand across the neck of Hastein, just under the edge of his helmet. The move happened so fast that not even Hastein knew what happened until the blood began to flow from his wound.

  "I will kill you, Olaf," Hastein roared as he charged again.

  Olaf could have killed him then, but he did not. Instead, he dodged away and let the prince's warrior swing at the spot where Olaf had been. Again and again, the man rushed, and again and again, Olaf evaded.

  "Kill him!" the crowd pleaded, especially Hastein's comrades, who could not abide the mockery they were seeing.

  But Olaf did not listen. His mind was set, and he would finish Hastein how he believed Hastein deserved to be finished. "You mocked me, Hastein," he called to his foe. "Now it is you who shall be mocked."

  Blood shrouded Hastein's left shoulder and chest, yet still he came. "The gods curse you, Olaf," he spat as he charged. Only this time, when he missed, his legs faltered, and he fell to the mud on his hands and knees.

  "Kill him!" the crowd called, and even I joined the refrain. Beside me, Sigurd bit his lip.

  "Kill me," Hastein pleaded as his blood dripped from his body.

  But Olaf did not. He stood back and let the life drain, drop by drop, from his enemy. When Hastein eventually collapsed to his back, Olaf kicked his blade away. The crowd gasped. Hastein's eyes went wide. A warrior needed his blade in the afterlife. To deny him that was beyond callous – it was heartless.

  Olaf set his jaw and looked on grimly as his foe's blood pooled in the mud. Around him, the crowd had gone silent.

  "A glib tongue that goes on chattering sings to its own harm," Olaf spoke into the stillness. It was one of my father's favorite sayings. He spoke it when, as boys, Olaf or I said something foolish. Here, in this place, it sounded far more brutal. "Let everyone here know that I stand innocent of Hastein's charges," he called to the crowd. Then, he spat on Hastein's cold corpse and walked over to me.

  I stood with my jaw slack, glad to still have a living friend but shocked by his cruelty. I had seen it before, and each time, it surprised me.

  "What is the matter?" asked Olaf when he reached me and his uncle. His face was beslimed with mud and gore, giving him the look of a man who had just emerged from Hel's dark depths.

  "You should have killed him quickly," I managed to say. Like my father before me, I had a temper, and I was struggling to keep it in check. "That you did not, and that you denied him his seax at the end, will have consequences."

  Olaf glanced over his shoulder at Hastein's comrades, who were dragging his corpse away. "They do not have the courage to fight me."

  "It is not them I worry about," I said with a nod at the dais.

  Olaf glanced at Vladimir and Olava, who were retreating hand in hand to the main hall of the borg, and frowned. Though Olaf had prevailed, he had crossed the prince. And if Vladimir was anything like his father, there would be a price to pay for that offense. "It seems I cannot win."

  Lord Sigurd was also frowning at his nephew. "I suspect this is not the last of it. Olaf – go to your men and keep your lips tight." He nodded at a group of Olava's household guards. "Do not draw attention to yourself, and if you are lucky, mayhap this affair will be forgotten." He then turned and marched toward Holmgard's gates.

  With a parting glance at Olaf, I followed Sigurd from the borg.

  2

  We returned to Sigurd's hall, which lay an easy hike north from Holmgard's walls. The hall stood in the center of a larger estate and was surrounded by the structures one might expect a successful lord to possess: a barn, storage sheds, a large boat house, a barracks, and even a bath house. Sigurd had done well for himself in Gardariki and his estate stood as testament to his wealth.

  Sigurd's household retinue, or hird, greeted us as we came through his gate. There were nearly forty men in all, as well as one woman: Turid. Though she stood among the others, it was impossible not to notice her striking beauty in the midst of Sigurd’s brutes. Long ago, Turid had fled the North with me and Olaf. Now, the tall, lithe redhead was one of Sigurd's warriors as well as my lover.

  I went to her and planted a kiss on her freckled cheek as my hand moved to her rounded belly. "How is our treasure today?"

  There was concern in her ice-blue eyes as she responded. "Same as always. Feisty. Now, tell me of Olaf."

  I raised my hands to calm her. "It was not much of a duel. Just another chance for Olaf to mock an opponent."

  She grinned slightly. "So he is hale?"

  "Aye. He is hale."

  She allowed herself a slight grin. "That is good. I was worried."

  Another man might have been jealous of her concern, but I knew her questions did not stem from attraction. Theirs was the relationship of siblings, not lovers, built over the nearly two decades we had known each other and hardened through the trials we had faced together in the Estland swamps and the battlefields in and beyond the borders of Gardariki.

  "As was I," I admitted.

  "Stop your fondling, you two."

  I looked over at Ulrik, Sigurd's scar-faced second-in-command. "Am I not allowed to greet my woman?" I called to him half in jest.

  He snarled. "You have greeted her. Now get you gone. And you, Turid. Have you no better place to be?"

  Everyone knew of our relationship and of the child that grew in Turid's belly, yet Sigurd did not like having his men distracted by our public displays of tenderness. It was Ulrik's job to ensure Sigurd's commands were followed. Even so, I grinned at Turid, who returned the gesture.

  "Torgil!" Ulrik roared at me again.

  I pecked Turid's cheek and made my exit. "I'll see you tonight in the hall.”

  That evening, we paraded into the warm, hearth-lit interior of Sigurd's hall for the nightly meal and took our seats on the benches that lined his long eating tables. In the center of the hall, a low fire crackled in a stone hearth over which a cauldron hung. It had rained that afternoon, and I welcomed the fire's warmth on my damp clothes.

  Turid worked her way to my side with a barley cake in her hand and straddled the bench beside me. She was offering me a piece when the doors to the hall creaked open and the flames sputtered in their sconces. Necks craned to see who had entered, and voices once loud with cheer fell silent. My own jaw slackened.

  "Well, this is a surprise!" called Sigurd into the silence. "Welcome to my hall, Nephew."

  Olaf stood near the entrance with two of his warriors at his side. He had not visited Sigurd's hall since joining Princess Olava's ranks, and so we sat in silence, wondering why he was there and whether he was on the princess's errand or a personal mission.

  "Thank you for your welcome, Uncle,” called Olaf over our heads, “and please excuse my sudden intrusion. I hope I am not interrupting anything.”

  "Not at all. Please come in," Sigurd beckoned. "You are among friends here. Be welcome."

  Ulrik rose then. "Still full of surprises, I see," he growled at Olaf.

  "A predictable warrior is a dead warrior," countered Olaf with the slightest of grins on his face.

  "Ha!" Ulrik laughed, remembering the saying he often used in our training. "So he is." Ulrik strode to Olaf and bear-hugged him.

  The older warriors rose and greeted their former comrade then. The newer members of Sigurd's hird were warier of the young man they knew only by name, reputation, and his kinship to Lord Sigurd. I could see from the reticence in their expressions that they knew not what to make of his presence.

  Turid and I joined the veterans, though I less enthusiastically than Turid, who had not seen Olaf in two springs. She gave Olaf a grand hug as I looked on, then kissed him on his furry cheek. He laughed and held her before him. "It is wonderful to see you, Turid. It has been far too long. Torgil tells me you fought like a she-wolf among the Bolgars. It does not surprise me." Unlike me, Olaf had a way with words and wielded them with the same skill he wielded his weapons. "And what is this?" Olaf motioned to her belly with a grand smile.

  Turid blushed and grabbed my hand. "We had not the time nor place to tell you," she said.

  "We?" He looked at me, and the grin stretched. "Well. This is good news indeed!" He draped his arms over both of our shoulders. "Worthy of celebration, eh you men of Sigurd?" he called to the crowd.

  The men cheered, and even the younger warriors brightened. Olaf laughed at their reaction, bathing himself in their attention. I, on the other hand, blushed. I did not like having all eyes upon me.

  At the far end of the hall, Sigurd called for us to sit as he, too, took his place in his chair. It was a massive oaken affair recently carved from an old tree by the hands of our comrade, Sveinn. It had taken four of us to carry it into the hall. Sigurd hefted the silver goblet he held in his hand and peered through the smoke at his nephew. He spoke when we were seated. "It is no secret that you vex me mightily, Olaf." Lord Sigurd grinned, and we laughed. I jostled Olaf's big shoulder, for I understood more than most the humor and the truth in Sigurd's words. Olaf's courage and impulsiveness were traits both admirable and taxing, especially for men like me, who preferred to strategize before rushing into danger. "But you also make me proud," Sigurd continued. "Today's duel was a masterful display of swordwork and one which we will be recounting for generations to come. To you, Olaf, and your blades. Sköl!"

  “Sköl!” we echoed.

  "I learned it all from you, Uncle!" called Olaf good-naturedly, which was flattering, but not exactly true. My father, and Olaf's father before him, had gifted Olaf with much of his skill. Sigurd had merely refined it.

  Sigurd's red beard bent downward in a frown as he studied his kin. "You most certainly did not. I, for one, prefer the protection of a shield. But more important, I prefer to kill my enemies quickly, not toy with them like a cat with a rat." Sigurd paused for dramatic effect, and the room waited expectantly to see where the thread of his words might lead. Then, a smile crept onto his face and the room's mood lifted with it. "You are a marvel, Nephew. May the gods take note. Gerd!" he called then. "Have you something for my hungry warriors?"

  As if she had known his words were coming, the aging servant and her helpers rushed forth with platters of food and laid them on the tables, but Olaf and I were not given a chance to eat. No sooner had I grabbed a slice of buttered bread than the scarred face of Ulrik appeared between us.

  "Come," he said. "Lord Sigurd wishes to speak with you two."

  We glanced at each other, then stood and followed Ulrik into an anterior room hidden by a long drape that hung behind Sigurd's oaken chair. The room doubled as his sleeping chamber but had plenty of room for the three chairs that had been set up for us. Sigurd already sat in one of them. Ulrik motioned us to the two remaining chairs and left the room.

  Sigurd held up a pitcher of beer and offered to fill our cups as we sat. Olaf held his out to Sigurd. I did not, for I had never been much of a drinker. I did not like how it altered my mood and emptied my memory. Sigurd settled the pitcher on the table before him, then folded his fingers around his cup. "As you know well, Olaf, surprises make me wary. Tell me: to what do we owe the honor of your presence? Are you on the princess's errand, or have you come of your own accord?"

  Olaf sipped from his cup, then turned his eyes to the liquid within it. "I have no delicate way of saying this, so I will just state it: I have been released from my duties."

  I blinked in astonishment at the confession, though I suppose I should not have been surprised. The duel had shown us just how tenuous his position had been.

  “The request came from Prince Vladimir, who made his displeasure with me known quite clearly," Olaf spoke into the ensuing silence. "I embarrassed him with the rumors and embarrassed him further with the mockery I made of Hastein. He wishes me gone before the next full moon." Olaf grinned, albeit sheepishly. Failure was not common for him, and I sensed that this admission pained him to relay to us.

  Sigurd scratched his beard as his eyes studied his nephew. “I am sorry to hear of this, but it is not surprising. You are lucky he did not simply kill you.” Olaf made to defend himself, but Sigurd held up a hand to stop him. “Let me finish.” Sigurd's voice tolerated no retort, and Olaf acquiesced with a frown. “The prince has been gracious in his offer. You would be a fool not to take it.”

  “I intend to,” Olaf grumbled.

  “That is wise," said Sigurd, whose eyes had not left his nephew's face. "So have you come merely to tell us this news, or is there something more to your appearance?"

  Olaf's eyes shifted from his uncle to me and back again. "I have come to ask for your help."

  "Which is?" Sigurd prompted.

  "A ship. For which I will repay you," he added quickly. "I have some of the coin now."

  I glanced at Sigurd, who was frowning. He had four ships in his boathouse. Three were warships and one, a trader. "What do you intend to do with this ship?" Sigurd finally asked. "Will you return to your home in the North?"

  "No. I will go a-viking," Olaf said boldly and smiled. "To acquire more wealth, so that I can repay you."

  "I see," said Sigurd, his face unreadable.

  "I would like you and Torgil to join me," Olaf continued, but when his uncle did not reply, he added: "Think of what we could do together, Uncle. Of the plunder we could take..."

  My gut twisted as my thoughts instantly flew to Turid. She was in no condition to go raiding, yet I could not simply abandon her here on Sigurd's estate to give birth on her own.

  Sigurd sighed. "I appreciate your offer, Nephew, but I have other plans. As you know, I serve the prince for several more moons. When my service is at an end, my desire is to see my home again, not to spend my days on a ship's deck, robbing farms and chasing sheep. I yearn to return to my father and my brothers in the North, at least for a spell."

  This was news to me. "So you will not stay to help the prince with his brothers?" I asked. Prince Vladimir's father, Grand Prince Sviatoslav, had died during our campaign in Bolgaraland, leaving his three sons to quarrel over his Rus kingdom. In the time it had taken us to return from the South, the relationship between them had deteriorated, and war now seemed imminent. It surprised me that Sigurd – a warrior to his bones – did not want to remain for the fight.

  Sigurd spat on the rushes beside his chair, interrupting my thought. "I have no intention of remaining here for that. It will be a mess, and Prince Vladimir is in no position to hold Holmgard. Even with me here, he is weak and lacks men to fight. Besides," Sigurd lifted his index finger, "Harald Eriksson is dead, and the door to the North is now open for us." He grinned.

  My mouth fell open. It had been Harald who had killed Olaf's father and driven us from the kingdom all those summers ago. He was the reason we had been enslaved in Estland and the reason we sought refuge in Gardariki. "Is this really true?" I asked.

  Beside me, Olaf sat in stunned silence, and for the second time in this conversation, he was at loss for words.

  "Aye. It is. Harald's mother, Gunnhild, has taken her remaining family back to the Orkneyjar, so our homeland is now free of the Bloodaxe bastards. Hakon Sigurdsson now rules in the east of the land. Olaf's cousin, Harald the Grenske, rules the western realms. Given their relationships to your fathers and mine, I imagine there is far less danger for us in the North now." His lips stretched into a broad smile. "And mayhap far more opportunity."

  "When did this happen?" Olaf managed to ask.

  "When we were in the South fighting the Greeks," answered Sigurd. "Though I did not hear of it until the first trading ships arrived in Nygard this spring. The time is right to return to my family, Olaf, and that is what I intend to do as soon as I am able."

  "I could go with you," Olaf offered his uncle.

  Sigurd shook his head. "I fear you must leave soon to avoid Prince Vladimir's wrath. I cannot settle my affairs here so quickly. Besides, it is time you forged your own path and sought your fame."

  I felt my stomach twist at the changes afoot. Sigurd had been a good lord to us –– steady and wise –– and I did not relish leaving his company and serving under the more impulsive Olaf, if that is what it came to.

  "So it is decided then?" asked Olaf. "I will take one of your ships and seek my fame on my own, and you will return to your family?" Olaf cocked an eyebrow at his uncle.

  Sigurd nodded slightly, but I sensed his hesitation. "I will give you one of my ships," he finally said, "but you must get it sea-ready, and you must repay me for it. Have you men to man it?"

  Olaf smiled. "I will find the men."

  Sigurd's brows arched over his eyes, but he left unsaid whatever thought was rattling in his head.

  Olaf turned to me. "And what of you, Torgil? You swore an oath to my father to protect me. Will you come with me?"

  I knew the question would be coming and frowned. "It is true I owe my sword to you, Olaf, and that I said I would return to your service when you asked. But there are other considerations now."

  "Turid?" Olaf guessed with a pained grin.

  I blushed, feeling shame wash over me. I was torn between Olaf and my lover, and the thought of failing in my oath to either bothered me.

  "I actually have another idea for Torgil," said Sigurd, motioning to me with his cup, "though it will mean leaving before the birth of his child."

  I did not like the sound of that and eyed Sigurd with growing consternation.

  "Turid cannot leave in her condition, and she will be safer here than anywhere else," said Sigurd. "If you agree, Torgil, I can have Gerd assist with the birth when it is time. I can then take Turid and the child with me to my father's estate in the North when I leave next spring. The child will be old enough then to travel more safely, and my father's estate is a good place for a child to grow stronger. Is that agreeable to you?"

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26