Islands in the Fog Page 3

  "Then you should trade this mead with me! I cannot wait another year to drink such nectar again." Hermind slapped the table and chortled, spit flinging from his mouth. Others laughed again, only Hardar refrained, barely fitting a trite smile on his swollen face. Ulfrik realized the assumption of his holding the festival again rankled Hardar. He pressed Hardar's sore spot.

  "Indeed we should. But if you wait until next year, we will have perfected the brewing of it. Next year when you return it will be even better."

  "Truly a fine feast. I am humbled by the skill of your people." Hardar spoke overloud. "Let me toast your wife's skill at the hearth once more."

  Everyone raised a mug or horn to Runa, who smiled demurely. Ulfrik put his arm about her waist as he raised his own. "To the best cook I've ever known!"

  Hardar and Ulfrik watched each other over the rims of their mugs. Hardar's wife and daughter sat beside him, shrinking into his shadow. They had not spoken the entire night, unlike the wives of other jarls. Hardar's wife Ingrid, her skin still clear and tight for her age, had seemed outgoing when they first arrived. But now she fluttered like a ghost vanishing from sight. Hardar's daughter behaved the same.

  "You have made yourself rich in a land where sheep outnumber men. It's no small feat." Jarl Ragnvald now turned the conversation down a new track. He sat opposite Ulfrik. Both he and his wife were soft and gentle folk from the northern islands. Ulfrik had liked him the moment they met. "Your name as a hero of Hafrsfjord has brought you many followers, even to these distant rocks."

  "Men follow success, don't they?" Ulfrik sent his words straight at Hardar, glanced at him, then laughed. Runa elbowed him gently for his immodesty, which drew polite laughter. Hardar wore a smile like a day old corpse.

  "As I know it, King Harald destroyed all his foes at Hafrsfjord. Odd to call utter defeat a success." The quip came not from Hardar, but from the morose and unfriendly Jarl Vermund sitting at his side. It was the first Ulfrik had heard from this man since his arrival.

  Faces of those who could hear above the celebration glanced at each other, then expectantly turned to Ulfrik. He held his smile as he chose his words. "I escaped with my life and the lives of my sworn men. I made no claim for glory on that bloody day. The success I referred to, if Jarl Vermund had been listening, was the rebuilding of Nye Grenner on this island."

  Ulfrik held Vermund's gaze, but knew Hardar was studying him closely. Vermund, for his part, gave the faintest smirk. "I apologize, Jarl Ulfrik. I must have misunderstood."

  Ulfrik nodded, still holding Vermund's gaze until he finally turned away. It seemed a signal for Hardar to interject his thoughts. "This is an interesting point, though, Jarl Ulfrik. You arrived here with a ship full of men and their families. The freemen of this place got you started on the path to your current happiness."

  "I owe the free families who dwelt here everything I am. I feel my work here has bettered their lives. Wouldn't you agree?"

  "Certainly," Hardar picked a bone from his plate and turned it over in his hands. He swept his gaze over the other jarls. "But I wonder if they feel that way?"

  Small conversations halted, and smiling faces froze. Ulfrik straightened himself, peering at Hardar with slit eyes. "And why would you wonder such things? Do you not see the prosperity here?"

  "When you arrived, you were but a few boatloads of people. Now this island is filled with fighting men. Warriors who make claims on the land, desire their own fame and wealth. We people who have lived in the Faereyjar all our lives value the peace of our island homes. It is why we stay here."

  "And peace has remained. I still don't understand your question, Lord Hardar."

  "Perhaps Lord Hardar has drank too much tonight and is tired," Ragnvald interjected. "Surely the question was just ill-framed."

  "What Lord Hardar means," said Vermund, as his smile spread on his gaunt face, "is that Lord Ulfrik has built an army of occupation. In five years, under our noses, he has constantly added hirdmen. His forges spit out weapons and mail fashioned from imported iron. What for, Lord Ulfrik? Peace?"

  "Well asked," Hardar agreed, dropping the bone to his plate. His wife murmured to him, and he held up his arm to her face. "Why are you building up such military power? None of us have done as much."

  Ulfrik sat back on his bench, short of words. He looked into the expectant faces of the other jarls, most were blank, others shocked, but all waited on his answer. Runa inhaled to speak, but Ulfrik clamped his hand atop hers, pressing it to the table. He did not look at her, but gave a reassuring squeeze.

  "Men have come to me of their own will. Many have fled the oppression of Harald Finehair. Others still seek lords to serve after being scattered at Hafrsfjord, even to this day. It is right that I should arm them, house them, and reward them for their oaths. Can you question that?

  "I have traded honestly with my neighbors. Been fair with fishing grounds. Never has one of my men wandered into another jarl's lands to make trouble. We are at peace here. My men take up spear and shield to raid the dog-shit King Harald and take back what he stole from us. Maybe your people, Hardar, have not felt the sting of oppression like the folk of Nye Grenner. But we know the worth of a strong army to protect our homes and freedom, especially after how you greeted us."

  Ulfrik's arms trembled. He only now cast his gaze to the other jarls. Ragnvald smiled in admiration, while Hardar and Vermund were predictably unmoved. The other jarls appeared mollified. No words passed at the high table, the carousing from within and without the hall more than covered the silence. The merriment behind Ulfrik contrasted with the coldness before him. He finally withdrew his hand from Runa's and relaxed into his bench again. But Hardar was not done.

  "Fine words, but we shall see. How long can an army be entertained raiding sheep? How long before they seek new lands? Our lands!"

  Ulfrik shot to his feet. Hardar smirked triumphantly as his wife hissed at him and other jarls turned disgusted faces at him.

  "You insult me in my own hall? I will defend my name and honor! Your face is already swollen like a rotting fish. Do you want me to show you what more I can do? "

  Hardar tried to get to his feet, but Ingrid and his daughter held him down. Runa stood, Gunnar in her arms. "Ulfrik, calm yourself! He is clearly drunk, and you are too."

  Others stood, though they seemed confused as to why they did. Ragnvald and his wife nearly leapt over the table to intervene. "Please, let us not soil a wonderful festival with drunken threats. Lord Ulfrik, Lord Vermund, please sit. Forget these things, I beg you."

  Ulfrik glared at Hardar, whose puffy face reddened as he struggled with his wife and daughter. He turned his threatening gaze at Vermund, his oily smile unmoved. Then he looked at Runa, her eyes wide and pleading. Gunnar had fallen asleep over her shoulder. His son's peaceful repose brought an unexpected chuckle to him. How can he remain asleep through this? Finally he acknowledged Ragnvald with a nod and sat.

  Hardar wrested free from Ingrid and stood alongside Vermund. "I need air," he proclaimed. He stalked off the high stage and pushed his way through the drunken crowd for the hall door. Vermund followed without a word. Ingrid and her daughter sat stricken.

  Ulfrik was sorry for them, and shook his head. "We have all drank too much tonight, Lady Ingrid. Please forgive me."

  A wave of murmured agreement rippled around the tables. Ingrid simply bowed her head in shame and studied the table before her.

  Ulfrik then turned to glimpse Hardar and Vermund exiting the hall. A tiny smile showed on his face. He had become strong enough to elicit jealousy. Ulfrik was drunk, but the part of his mind that remained sober told him that this was nothing to celebrate.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Toki stood upon the shore staring down the row of beached ships. Each one had its own story, some glorious, others shameful, but most would be ordinary. The dawn colored their hulls yellow and behind them the expanse of the fjord glittered. Sea birds circled above, and the squawking of the puffin colony in the c
liffs faintly reached him. Up the slope and across the grass, Nye Grenner's squat buildings still reverberated with the festival.

  He stared at his own ship, Raven's Talon, bobbing at the dock. She was the smallest of Ulfrik's four longships. She had always been his, though, and he her lone pilot. He smiled, recalling a time before Ulfrik had captured her. Raven's Talon had a glorious story, one Toki knew outshone any of the other ships.

  His smile faded. The morning chill lingered and he drew his wool cloak tighter. He ambled along the row of unattended ships, their guards still recovering from the night's drunken feast. Toki appraised each one as he passed. He wondered at the seaworthiness of a few. The gods themselves would have to carry these ships over the water. With no timber for repairs or construction, ships decayed and left their crews forever bound to the land.

  He shuddered at the thought.

  Hardar had taken his flagship, a high-sided and haughty vessel that had weathered the years better than many of the others beached astride it. Toki examined the freshly caulked strakes. One was a lighter color, suggesting a recent repair. Hardar either fixed the strake overseas or traders had sold him the timber. The job, he noted, was also well done. He patted the strake in admiration.

  "Don't hit it too hard or it'll spring a leak."

  Toki startled, his hand recoiling as if he had damaged the ship. He stepped back and turned to face the voice. Around the opposite side of the prow emerged a delicate woman. Toki immediately recognized her as Hardar's daughter. She wore a cream blouse and forest green skirt. Her platinum hair framed a girlish face that wore vulnerability and confidence in equal measure. Toki's surprise faded, but he remained speechless. Her lips turned in a wry smile, and one brow lifted.

  "I was joking. She's old but not in that bad of shape."

  "Well, yes, you're right to say so. I was admiring the repair. It's well done. Did you do it?" Toki was not a man for humor, and he had no idea what made him attempt it.

  To his relief, the girl giggled and covered her mouth with a pale hand. "I would have liked to try, though."

  "What's her name?"

  The girl's brows drew together. "Not interested in my name? The ship's name first, is it?"

  "Well, no. Not like that. I just, well ..."

  The girl laughed now, genuine and from her eyes. "Halla Hardarsdottir, from Trongisvagur."

  "Toki Sveinson, from far away."

  "A mysterious man, then? Your accent is strange."

  "I could say the same for yours." Toki smiled confidently, and Halla's elfin face became serious. Momentarily blinded by her beauty, he now regained himself. He turned back to the ship and thumped the repaired strake, a thud echoing in the hull. He continued to examine it, waiting for Halla to become uncomfortable with the silence. He didn't wait overlong.

  "Thor's Breath," she said, touching the prow. "That's her name."

  "A fine name for a far-sailing ship." He stepped around Halla to conduct his mock inspection. Halla wavered, he saw from the corner of his eye, then followed him. He ran his hand along the hull as he walked. "Got to scale off these barnacles. Creates drag on the ship, which is bad in a chase. A slow ship could mean life or death for the crew."

  "Life or death? I'll warn my father."

  "Do. I like the high sides, good protection from arrows. What's the deck like?"

  "I haven't paid attention to it. I'm not allowed on the ship."

  "So your father made you swim here? Do you swim?"

  "No I don't, and stop being ridiculous." She shifted onto her back leg and folded her arms, but smiled. Toki flashed his smile back.

  "I'd like to inspect her deck. Do you think I can get up on her?"

  "What? No, of course not. My father would have me skinned."

  "That's unlikely. Let's have a look." Toki pulled himself aboard with the grace of a man long accustomed to life at sea. He stood easily on the deck, despite the sharp slant from being beached. Halla's protests were muffled, and he smiled. The deck was like any other deck. He had no real interest in it, other than to tease Halla. When he judged she might be at her limit, he leapt back onto the beach. "A fine ship!"

  She remained entrenched in her spot, arms folded and face blushing. Her smile was unfriendly, sharp as a new blade. "I'm glad you think so. Now why don't you go inspect these others?"

  "Because I've already found the best one." He held her gaze a moment, then looked at the ship. "No sense in looking at any others."

  Halla unfolded her arms, finally shifting her stance. "Well, you can leave now anyway. Go on."

  "Why are you out here alone? Weren't you at the feast last night? Shouldn't you be with your parents, or at least have a man to guard you?"

  "If you were at the feast last night, then you'd know why I'm here."

  "I was not at the high tables. Too little room for me. Did something happen?" Toki omitted he had grown tired of the same songs and same boasts with the same people, and left the feast early to sleep alone. Now he hoped he hadn't been gone when Ulfrik might have needed him.

  Halla studied him, then turned aside. "It's nothing. Just my father being his foolish self. His pride overwhelms these lonely islands. He got drunk and insulted your lord. He went off in a huff, leaving mother and me to sit like two stupid children. I just wanted to leave the whole mess."

  "I'm sorry to hear that, Halla. If I had known, I wouldn't have teased you. Please take my apology."

  A quick smiled poked in the corners of her mouth. "No harm done. I was too quick to anger. I just wish to go home now."

  "Tomorrow you will sail for home. Then this whole land," Toki's hand painted the stripe of purple mountains on the western horizon, "will be behind you and poorer for your leaving."

  "Your flattery is a bit heavy handed."

  "Out of practice, as you can tell. But I sympathize with you. I had anticipated hosting the summer festival. Now that it's here, it's not what I expected. Escaping it is also what brought me to the ships."

  "I've seen you with Lord Ulfrik's son. Babysitting is a dull task."

  "Not at all. Gunnar is my nephew, one half of my surviving family. It's not that."

  Halla looked at him quizzically. "You don't like bragging all day then drinking yourself stupid all night?"

  "Not this time, at least. Look, you leave tomorrow, and you have not been this far south before. Am I right?" Halla nodded. "Then let me show you some of the fairer parts of this land."

  "I'm not sure about that."

  "Do you really need an excuse to leave the festival? Please, allow me to enjoy one small part of the festival in your company."

  Halla's smile broadened, Toki's growing along with hers. She searched his face and Toki held his breath. Finally she agreed. "I can't imagine there's much difference between the north and south of the same island. But I will go with you. Though my father mustn't know. Where shall we meet and when?"

  "Just meet me here after the sacrifices this morning. I will show you the southern cliffs. If you need to take someone with you, that will be fine."

  "No, I'd much rather it be just the two of us."

  Toki grinned, exactly the answer he wanted. He thanked her and left, not looking back. As he trotted up the slope toward Nye Grenner, he knew his life was about to change.

  Toki had not felt such excitement in years. His pulse beat in his neck. His mind was dizzy with thoughts of Halla. Everyone he met that morning mistook him for being drunk. After pointless wandering, hailing visitors like they were lifelong friends, he strolled into the main hall. The doors hung open as if the hall was gasping for breath.

  Toki met Runa inside, her eyes bleary and face haggard. Stray revelers snored in drunken slumber in the shadowy hall. The place smelled of smoke, stale mead, and sweat. Gunnar crawled on the floor, exploring beneath the tables. Runa rolled her eyes at Toki. "The boy is into everything this morning, and I'm exhausted. Can you take him for me?"

  "Let him run with the other kids. Or Gerdie will watch him. I've got a lot
to prepare for this morning, too."

  "Can't you let him follow you for a while? I've got cleanup to do." Runa yawned and rubbed her eyes. Gunnar crawled out from beneath a table triumphantly holding a knife he found. Runa removed it without a word, though Gunnar whined in protest. "Ulfrik's led the rams to the sacred stone. Snorri's giving a hand, but he'll want you there too. And where did you go this morning?"

  "Checking on the ships. Come on, Gunnar. I'll take you to see your father."

  Runa bent to give Gunnar a kiss on his head. The she paused and regarded Toki, breaking into a coy smile. "Checking the ships? Really? Your smile hasn't been this stupid since we were children."

  "You're still drunk, Sister. Good luck with this mess. Looks like the place was ransacked."

  He led Gunnar by the hand, his nephew obediently running beside him. Gunnar rambled about how he hoped to see the gods fetch their sacrifices. Toki normally would've corrected Gunnar, but he kept thinking of Halla. She had been receptive to his clumsy advances. The whole encounter was amazing to him. He had feared he would spend his life alone, or with a hag given to him in his old age. Now, he hoped for more.

  People were indistinct blurs as he hustled past them. In the same field where Ulfrik and Hardar had wrestled, a large pit had been dug. Dried branches had been piled in to make a fire. Two men finished erecting a spit for roasting the sacrificed rams. He spotted Ulfrik, standing awkwardly in the shadow of the sacred stone that passed for their temple in these treeless lands. He wore white woolen robes and the thick silver arm ring. Sprawling out behind him, sweeping into the fog-shrouded foothills, ran an emerald plain of grass.

  "Is that where Odin will eat?" Gunnar asked, pointing at the fire pit. "He can't be burned, can he?"

  "I don't know about that, boy. Now be good and stay with me."

  "So you didn't walk off a cliff. Where have you been this morning?" Ulfrik stood with hands on his hips. The mention of cliffs surprised Toki, making him fear he had been discovered. Ulfrik waved his hand and shook his head. "Well, you're here now. Do I look foolish in this robe?"