Kolbyr nodded, tentatively, but then with vigor. "All right. It's true; this is our best chance."
Thrand unhooked the loop holding his sword in its scabbard, and Kolbyr did the same. "By tonight we will have a fortune in heathen gold."
Laughing, he led Kolbyr into the woods where Ulfrik awaited his doom.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Runa froze in her steps outside the hall, buckets in both hands swaying from the sudden stop. For a moment it was Ulfrik's voice she heard, the deep tones vibrating through the walls to her, but the laughter was wrong-neither strong nor joyous enough to be him. She flushed at her foolishness, then resumed lugging the filled buckets of water to the hall. Rain had refilled the barrels over night, and the wet grass licked her ankles as she rounded the corner into the hall.
Elin and another woman relieved her of the buckets as she entered. Wiping her hands on her skirt, she caught sight of Gunnar seated with Konal and several of the older boys. Despite his bruises, he narrated his shipwreck to his audience with exaggerated gestures, describing steep waves and crashing ships with wide swings of his arms.
"One night of sleep seems to have restored our guest," Elin said as Runa followed her to the hearth. She upended the bucket into the cooking pot, swirling up the pitiful remains of the prior night's soup.
"A man of surprises," Runa said. She swished a spoon through the thin soup, sniffed its pungent odor, and determined it could be served, then turned to Konal.
Something about the way Gunnar responded to Konal's story irritated her. She could not decide the exact reason, other than the familiarity with her son felt presumptuous. Is he attempting to manipulate me? she thought. Gods, Runa, why are you seeing danger everywhere?
Sitting on the bench beside Gunnar, she arrived in time for Konal to conclude his tale. "And then I was saved by you three brave men. An amazing tale, is it not? My skalds will make it a poem one day."
"You have a skald?" The oldest boy leaned forward, a fourteen-year-old who had begged to go with Ulfrik but instead remained with his mother and sisters.
"We have two, and many more visit us." Konal smiled at Runa. "They sing of my adventures, and those of my father and brothers."
"Now they will sing of your black lips and blue face," Runa said. "And how you could scare a troll."
Gunnar and his friends erupted with laughter, but Konal sat back with a raised brow. "When I'm recovered, I can do more than scare a troll. I can kill him, with one hand!"
Again the boys rollicked in laughter, and even Runa could not deny a smile to Konal's ridiculous claims. "Don't exert yourself yet. Helga, the healer woman, will visit you today, and until she says you are recovered, rest is what you need. Now you boys have chores to do with the men gone." Gunnar moaned, and Runa clucked her tongue at him. "Off to them. Go! Bitter cold out there and the clouds are dark. Rain last night but snow today. So get the sheep indoors."
The boys filed away. The oldest one wore a sax like Runa, and he thumbed it as he paused. "When you are well, will you practice with me? My Da used to before he went a-viking, and he wanted me to protect our home. So, well, practice is important."
Konal nodded. "True words, and I would be pleased to help when my nursemaid releases me."
Runa watched Gunnar leave with his friends. He carried himself with a posture so much older than a boy of nine. She took relief in his courage, but regretted how fast youth slipped away.
"It feels good to be up and talking again." Konal rotated his shoulder, holding his ribs with a grimace. "They are fine boys, disciplined. Not like my children."
"You have children?" She detested the question the moment it slipped from her mouth, but she was further angered at the wry smile drawn through Konal's swollen face.
"Two boys and three girls. My youngest girl is my favorite, the rest are a sword in my side."
"I'm sure their mother feels otherwise."
"Mothers. And I don't know what they feel, since I stay at sea mostly."
Runa stiffened at his correction, not wanting to know more than she already did. She beckoned Elin to bring the soup, and changed the direction of their conversation. Elin swept in with two steaming bowls of soup. Runa clasped her cold hands around the bowl to warm them.
"It's a poor meal," she said. "But we are poor people. You will not be getting fat this winter, unless your brother finds you earlier."
Regardless of the steam, Konal slurped from his bowl. He put it down, speaking with a mouthful of fish. "I haven't eaten in days, and haven't eat anything hot in weeks. This is a feast."
The word hit Runa, knocking free memories of the great feasts Ulfrik had thrown in the past. She had chided him for the wastefulness, but secretly she enjoyed organizing them and cooking for so many. It was a joy lost to her, and regret mingled with her memories. Had Ulfrik been here, he would find a way to feast Konal even if he spent his last bit of silver to do it. Now, scraps of the prior night's meal were the best she could offer.
"I'm glad you're enjoying the feast. Since you are recovered enough to talk about adventures and family, I have matters to discuss."
Konal looked expectantly over the top of his bowl, but did not slow down in dumping soup into his gullet.
"We are barely provisioned to care for ourselves, and your arrival is a further burden. The gods have been harsh, and winter is when they cull our numbers. I've lost a child to the winters, and more friends than I want to count. You are welcome here, but you are also stuck here. So you will have duties to carry out and earn your place with the rest of us."
"Duties?"
Now the wry smile appeared on Runa's lips. "Were you thinking of lying back until your brother finds you, if he ever does? While you recover, your duties will be light, but I expect you to do more. You are taking from us, so give back. It is fair."
Konal's brow furrowed and he thoughtfully placed his bowl on the table. Runa scrutinized him, her hand idly plucking a lose wrap on the hilt of her sax. His surprise gave her pleasure. "What sort of duties? I am a lord, you know."
"I don't know, in fact. That gold torc on your neck is meaningless here. People can't eat gold and winter does not care for titles. We must eat, stay warm, guard our flocks, and survive until the sun rises again."
"I can help with the eating." He smiled at his own joke, but Runa blinked and carried on as if he had merely coughed.
"Be reminded I am the jarl's wife, and I rule this island and all the people on it." I just can't enforce my rule, she thought. "I will expect your obedience while you are here."
His mouth hung open in a half-formed laugh, but Runa stood before he could voice it.
"I don't wear this sword for show. Your first duty, once you are well enough, is to practice with me daily."
"Surely I hit my head on a rock and I'm dreaming. I'm stranded on an island of women and children and the jarl's wife wears a sax and wants to practice swordplay with me." He spread his hands wide. "No one would believe such a thing."
"Start believing." She shoved away from the bench and started for the hall door. "Your skalds will turn it into a poem one day."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Thrand and Kolbyr picked through the woods, stepping over fungus-laden logs and skirting the bare trees. Thrand's plan was simple: get close, distract and surprise Ulfrik, then flee. Since stealth mattered little, they crushed dead leaves and cracked branches beneath their feet and spoke to each other in normal voices. If anything, he hoped it would attract Ulfrik and spare them the search.
"Gods, did he walk back to Nye Grenner?" Kolbyr shoved aside a low branch with a curse.