"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 cliffs 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.