"Grenner's standard should fly over a great hall, not hang limp from a battered mast on a ship that sails nowhere. My sons deserve to inherit more. Men who have served me since Norway deserve wealth and glory."
"And they have received both from you, or they would not remain in your service. Now stop and listen to me." Folding her arms across her chest, she planted herself and determined not to move. "We have survived all that Fate has designed for us, and we have lived to see our sons grow. They are happy, and so am I. So we live as farmers. Better to live as freemen and not as slaves, and better still to be alive. That is success enough. In this life, with cruel gods laughing at us, living is the greatest success of all."
Her neck pulsed with her emotion, and she studied Ulfrik for his response. His eyes searched hers, and though she expected his answer, she still hoped for his agreement.
"It's not enough, Wife. Living is no more than what animals do. We were born to more, and that is why the gods have kept us alive." He dropped his head and shook it. "I can't believe we are under threat from those two scum, Thorod and Skard. Between the two of them they've not enough wits to piss a straight line. And yet, they're crushing me, undoing me. Can I let that pass?"
Runa waited, touching her finger to her lips. His head continued to droop, the wind blowing his hair across his face. The lines of his body drew defeat for all to see. Such weakness rankled her, but she kept her voice even. "Why even fight with fools? We could leave this place as easily as we came."
"God of Storms, this idea of yours will never go away." He tilted his head back to the sky and raked the hair from his face. "It is not like there are lands waiting for us beyond the horizon. We've already been everywhere, and everywhere another lord has claimed the land."
Runa rolled her eyes but let him continue. If she could be accused of suggesting the same ideas, Ulfrik could be accused of fashioning the same excuses.
"Ships that sail north never return. I don't care what men say; there's nothing but sea monsters and ice to be found there. Norway is fouled with a high king, and I'll never pay his taxes. Same for your home of Denmark, so please don't tire me with that suggestion again."
"Gods know I would not want to tire you."
"And the Svear and Baltic people would war on us until death." Ulfrik began to pace, oblivious. Runa tucked her head down to forestall a laugh. "So where does a man create a kingdom, when kings have already taken everything?"
"Odd how kings do that."
"Respect, Wife! Respect! I am serious. There's nowhere to go, but to build a kingdom here." He stamped the earth with his foot to emphasize his words. "Made from Ymir's last rotten tooth, this fucking island is the only place."
Runa waited, watching him stare at his foot. She realized her own foot tapped, and she halted it. "We can go to Hrolf the Strider. He is your sworn lord and oath-bound to provide safety and justice for you and your people."
He lifted his face to hers. Hrolf had been the unspoken threat for the last three years. More than anything the two cousins could do to ruin Ulfrik's dreams, a single word from Hrolf could ruin more. Runa understood this, and eschewed his name. Yet undeniably, Hrolf owned Nye Grenner. Ulfrik had sworn loyalty to him in exchange for his aid in defeating Hardar. Hrolf now controlled their lives, though he had never visited nor asked anything of them.
"Have you no shame?" Ulfrik said, his voice low. "Can I crawl a second time to him, and beg his aid?"
"Now you respect me. You know I'd not mention him lightly. I don't want to go upon my knees any more than you. But if the cousins are breaking your nuts like you say they are, then visit him. Ask him to lend you gold or men, or both."
Ulfrik spun away and considered her words. She unfolded her arms, then entwined them around his waist. She whispered to his ear.
"Just think on that idea, which I'll remind you is a new one of mine. You've tried to raise the gold on your own, but a loan could work just as well. Pay it back out of the spoils. Men do that all the time, don't they? They loan you their lives, and you repay them with gold. There's no shame in it."
Ulfrik clasped his arm over her hands, and rubbed them gently as he thought. "A loan might work. I could raise more men at least."
She hushed him, tightening her hold. "Just think for now. Winter will arrive and keep the cousins busy with survival. But we can plan and prepare for spring."
She felt his posture relax, then he sighed. "Let's get home before Gunnar wears out Toki. The boy not only has your looks, but has your energy."
Runa laughed, allowing herself a moment of satisfaction. War was at hand, she did not doubt, but for a short moment she had controlled a small portion of her destiny. Arm in arm with Ulfrik, she walked home and hoped she would never have to abandon it. Yet intuition told her she would not die on these lands, and that crowded her satisfaction with fear.
CHAPTER SIX
Two of the high-sided ships floated at sea as the third glided for the shore. Ulfrik and his men had assembled in haste, but with enough time to don mail and helmets. His guts roiled along with the ocean waves ramming onto the stony beach. Two ships were bad enough, but a third ship meant his doom.
"They're waving a hazel branch," Snorri said, craning his neck forward and squinting.
"Just spotting that now?" Ulfrik asked, hitching his shield up his arm. "They've come far if it's real hazel."
Snorri spit on the grass and grunted. Ulfrik observed the ship skipping across the dull green waters; a hulking figure standing in the prow cut boldly against a stone gray sky. Animal pelts wrapped his shoulders, giving him the look of a hulking bear. His long, thin hair streamed off his high forehead as he waved the branch.
"Hazel branch or no, it could be a trick," Toki said, flanking Ulfrik's other side. "How many times have we done the same?"
As men leapt into the crashing surf to guide the ship ashore, the air rushed from Ulfrik's lungs and his body slumped. Both Toki and Snorri stared at him in surprise, but Ulfrik clacked his sword back into its wooden scabbard. "My wife has a power to summon men with her words. Only two days ago did she mention Jarl Hrolf."
"Ulfrik Ormsson," called the fur-clad man as he steadied himself on the prow. "Put away your weapons. Your old friend has returned!"
"Gunther One-Eye," he explained. "One of Jarl Hrolf's closest men. Snorri, you remember him."
"Course I do. The man can drink a lake of mead and walk away from the table."
Ordering his men down and to break formation, Ulfrik laid his own shield in the grass. He started down the slope, relief pulsing through his body. Had the ships been filled with enemies, the fight would have been bitter. He arrived at the edge of the grass and waited.
Gunther One-Eye stomped ashore with both arms out as if greeting a lost son, a ragged smile on his scarred face. He had not changed in the three years since they last met. His face remained a horrid mass of scars, with a thick worm of white flesh tangled into the socket of where his left eye had been. Gray streaks flowed into his hair from his temples and from his chin into his beard. The only difference Ulfrik noted was Gunther had grown out his beard and gathered it at the bottom with a gold ring.
"You look fat and happy, Gunther." He strode forward, meeting Gunther at the edge of the surf. They clasped arms, then clapped each other's backs in greeting. Gunther's cloudy eye glinted, and his yellow teeth showed in his smile.
"And you look like you've missed me. May the rest of my ships come ashore? We've sailed far, as you know."
"Without delay, friend. And you'll come to my hall to eat and drink, and wash the sea salt out of your face."
Horns blared on both sides, to signal Gunther's other ships and to signal Nye Grenner's hall that danger had passed. Ulfrik waited in awkward silence as Gunther's crew disembarked. He glanced at the hall, seeing Runa the first to emerge with a sword and shield in hand. He smiled at the sight.