“As you say, Jarl Frodi.” Ulfrik had expected as much but had prayed for more.
“It is as I say,” Frodi said. “Now, before I retire, we must settle the matter of your gift for my hospitality.”
Ulfrik looked up from the patch of floor he had been studying. Foreboding gripped him, holding his guts tight. He had nothing to give, yet Frodi expected something.
“The slave girl,” Frodi said, as if having finally settled after careful thought.
Ulfrik almost thought he had misheard, until Runa cried out behind him.
“Jarl Frodi, she is no slave. I have freed her.”
“I’ll take the slave girl or I’ll take your head on a spear! Which will it be, Jarl Ulfrik? Will you continue to insult me? Will you? If I don’t like the next word you speak, I will sever your insolent tongue and feed it to the pigs. Now, it has been a good feast and my guests have found you entertaining. Let’s not end the night with bloodshed.” Frodi stood, flexing his hands as if awaiting a weapon to grip. “You men, take that girl out of the hall. I don’t want her stolen from me. Now, sleep well.”
Runa shrieked as two men staggered to her, grabbing her as she wrestled and screamed for freedom. She called Ulfrik’s name over and over again, her calls audible even as she was hauled out with Frodi following.
Thor, understanding the show had finished, dropped his head to the table and began to snore. Ulfrik sat down where he stood, his tears coming hot and easy on his cheeks. As beaten as he was, he cared not at all who might see him. His defeat was final.
Twenty
Grim spent the days after Aud’s death in a spiral of confusion and desperation. He had been cursed. Never to know a woman and to die at Ulfrik’s hand: he could think of nothing worse. Neither could his men. News had spread, and men did not want to be sworn to a cursed jarl.
No one understood this more than Vandrad. He summoned a man from his ranks who claimed the ability to ward off evil magic. Twisted in old age and bone thin, the man, Lini, was of Vandrad’s personal household.
“Sever the witch’s head before burning the body with ash wood until there is nothing but soot,” he instructed Grim, pointing at Aud’s corpse. “Bring me her hand and something of your brother’s. I’ll make a charm against the curse. Then bury her ashes in an open field and pile it with twenty stones to keep her spirit in the grave.”
Grim hung on Lini’s words, nodding incessantly as he spoke. The hall was cleared of everyone but Vandrad and his two bodyguards, who sat at the benches, a few feet from where Aud’s corpse lay covered in a gray sheet.
“Why would you do this, Grim?” Vandrad had asked the question at least seven times. Grim had stopped answering him. “The men are ready to revolt, even my own. Of all the stupid things. Bah, there’s nothing to do but to repair the damage.”
Grim felt as it was his father, Orm, berating him again, but he dared not speak up. Vandrad had every excuse to kill him. If it were not for his usefulness as a puppet jarl of Grenner, Grim expected Vandrad would have done so already. Maybe I killed he wrong person, he thought as he watched Vandrad thinking.
“Lord Grim must show his men that he is not affected by the curse, and that the gods favor him.” Lini mopped his sweat-beaded forehead with a cloth, even though cold night air invaded the hall through unclosed windows.
Grim wondered if Lini feared him, or feared the spirit of the dead witch. It made him shudder to think Aud’s ghost might be hovering over him. His hands closed around his amulet of Thor’s Hammer. “How can I do that?”
“Killing your brother would be the best,” Lini offered. “But if you lie with a woman, it will prove the curse is untrue. When I make my amulet, it should allow you to take a woman to your bed.”
“We need more than that,” Vandrad said, throwing his hands into the air. “That could all be faked. You must make things right with the gods. The men need to see you do it. Sacrifice your slaves and a tenth of your wealth to the gods. Nothing is more powerful than human sacrifice and gold.”
“A tenth of my wealth,” Grim repeated, not thinking at all about the slaves. “Why so much?”
“Because the men need to see you do it!” Vandrad sprang up from the table. “You made this mess, and you will fix it. King Harald’s orders are that I keep you here as jarl as long as I see fit. And I’d rather you rule this dung heap so I can leave and rejoin my king. But test me once more, and I will put another in your place. Understood?”
Grim let go of his amulet, and rose to face Vandrad. He tried to prevent his lips from snarling, but the menace in his reply was clear. “I understand, Vandrad. I’ve earned my title, and I won’t let it go so easily.”
Vandrad smiled. “Then I’ll leave you with Lini. I expect you to do as he instructs.”
Vandrad’s gaze swept across Lini and Grim to Aud’s corpse. He frowned and spat at the body, a ward against evil. Then he spun around and left the hall.
***
Grim owned only four slaves, and at dawn the next day he hanged them all, getting them drunk on ale before taking them to their deaths. Even in their condition, they panicked, screamed and struggled when they saw the noose. Grim’s favorite slave girl vomited on him when he hauled her up, so he let her dangle and kick. But he pulled the legs of the other three to hasten their end. Grim implored Odin to see the sacrifices given in his name, and the men in attendance, including Vandrad, nodded approvingly at his prayers.
When it was finished, the shadow of a bird, gliding high in the flat winter sky, passed over them. All agreed it was a positive omen, and that Odin had seen the work Grim had done. As they turned to leave, the slaves’ corpses swayed on ropes behind them; they would remain there until they rotted.
Sacrificing his gold to Frigg took place in the evening, and was much harder. Grim invited Vandrad and only his closest men, not wanting lesser men to estimate his wealth, lest they demand more of it. His father’s treasures were kept in a secret compartment in his room at the hall. Grim spent hours selecting the pieces for sacrifice. He pulled out a silver chain and dropped it into the bag, only to replace it with a gold ring. Moments later, the gold ring would be replaced by another trinket. The treasure was beautiful; he cringed to part with any of it, but he had to buy Frigg’s favor. Eventually, he filled the leather bag with gold and silver tribute.
At the lake, Grim stood on a rocky outcrop surrounded by hirdmen holding torches. Vandrad carried the treasure and handed it to Grim when his prayers to Frigg were completed. The weighty bag of precious metals swayed in Grim’s grasp. He hesitated. One tenth of his wealth was about to be dragged to the bottom of the lake by the spirits within and whisked away to Asgard. After another moment’s hesitation, he spun the bag out over the lake. A dull plop reported that the sacrifice was made. Grim waited for some sign, but received none. He hoped his reluctance had not undermined his efforts. But Vandrad and his hirdmen seemed pleased.
“Well done, Grim.” Vandrad clapped him on the shoulder. “The gods will favor you now. I am sure.”
Grim had a feast prepared to celebrate, but with the slaves gone, his hirdmen’s women had to cook. If it displeased anyone, he did not notice. With his hall bright again and filled with boasting, laughing men, Grim guzzled mead happily. The aroma of roasting meat and fish hid the stench of death and sulfur Aud had left behind. By the end of night, warm with drink and food, even Grim had forgotten what everyone was celebrating. And when the fires died and the men returned to their beds, Grim returned to his and slept a drunken, dreamless sleep.