*
“He is a young fool,” said King Gudbrand when Solvi raised the subject of Harald at dinner. Gudbrand told of fighting Harald, the overwhelming force, and how King Eirik had remained snug and protected in his fort while Gudbrand’s men died on Harald’s swords.
“Yet he beat you,” said Solvi.
“He never found me,” said Gudbrand, waving his hand. “And his uncle—he is not a fool. Harald had luck, and more men than I could muster in a short time.” Gudbrand had an ill-proportioned figure, too long in the arm, too big in the stomach, protruding teeth, and close-cropped gray hair over a long straggly beard. His uneven teeth were white and strong, though, and he seemed the sort of man who commanded through competence, not dazzling speeches or grand gestures. Solvi liked that about him.
“Yes, at least you have outrun him,” said Solvi. Gudbrand looked affronted. “No, it is better than losing a battle to him. You can live to fight again.”
“Yes,” said Gudbrand, banging his fist on the arm of his heavily inlaid chair. “Do you come to offer aid, Solvi Sea-King?”
“It is time,” said Solvi. “We must band together, or all of our lands will fall to Harald and his allies.”
“What do I care for your lands?”
“I will care for yours, if you will care for mine. And if you do not care for that, Vestfold is rich.”
“You mean to attack Vestfold itself?”
“Yes,” said Solvi. “We cannot help each other if we are defending our own lands, but if we take the fight to Harald—”
“Yes,” said Gudbrand. “We will teach this Harald a lesson.”
“Of course,” said Solvi, smoothly, as though he had expected Gudbrand’s quick capitulation all along.
“Do you mean to lead this force yourself?” Gudbrand asked.
“I am not power-mad as this Harald is. But if you can promise to ally with me, then Rorik of Dorestad will send men and swords as well.”
“Rich old Rorik is willing to leave his cozy nest for you? I would venture that men of Rogaland will join as well.” Gudbrand banged his fist on his chair again. “I went to that battle like a fool, and only left a day ahead of Harald’s force. My fellow kings did not believe the stories. Then this Harald sneaks up on me, while you move like quicksilver and wring promises from men like Rorik. You know Vestfold. You should lead us.”
“You do me too much honor,” said Solvi, perfunctorily. He was probably more suited to leading this force than Gudbrand, whom Harald had beaten once. Men would be more confident in him. But he hesitated. He might not be able to set down this responsibility again, if he took it up. “Can we tempt your sons here from Iceland as well?” he asked. “If Vestfold falls, the bounty must be shared.”
“Indeed we might.” Gudbrand looked very satisfied at the prospect. He called for more ale, a warming brew of summer fruits. “You’ll make a greater man than your father, if the gods are just. Let us drink and make our oaths, and then we can talk of who else will join us.”
*
Svanhild had not believed all the tales from her mother and the farm’s women, the way a woman might turn inward and think only of her child during pregnancy, but she found such tendencies in herself. She wanted Solvi by her, took more comfort than ever in his touch. And she could not try to dissuade Solvi from his course when it might mean wealth and security for their son. After concluding his business with Gudbrand, Solvi sent her with Tryggulf’s ship back to Tafjord.
Svanhild had plenty of energy during the winter, once the early days of her pregnancy had passed. She put it all into remaking Tafjord into something more like what a hall should be, beginning with the meals. She inventoried all of the food stores, and made calculations and plans to keep the household and all the warriors eating well. Tafjord had enough food from harvest tributes, but poor management of it. Thralls must be fed if they would do work. The lowliest farmer who owned at least one servant knew that much. It should shame Hunthiof that he did not.
She missed the adventure of being on board Solvi’s ship, but at least she knew her place here. Geirny had gone back to her father at some point during the fall, so Svanhild was spared her strangeness and any guilt she might feel at taking Geirny’s place.
Solvi returned to Tafjord before Yule, with further promises from Rorik, and more—the Danish king had resolved to send ships against Harald. He did not want a strong Norse king.
A traveling skald joined the household for the winter, and from him Svanhild learned news from Vestfold, of Harald, Hakon, and his sons, and, of course, Ragnvald. She heard that Ragnvald had come near death, and risked his life to save Harald. She heard that Ragnvald had switched his allegiance to Harald.
Ragnvald was Harald’s close companion now, his adviser, the skald said. He would be happy for that, Svanhild knew, as happy as he ever allowed himself to be. Ragnvald had intelligence beyond what was needed for a farmer and warrior, and that was where his ambition came from. She did not wonder that he would seek a king he could respect. She wished she could be happy for him. Instead she saw that he and Solvi were bent on collision again, like ships in a narrow passage, no room for either to escape.
“You work yourself ragged,” said Solvi when he came to the kitchen for breakfast one morning. It was true. Svanhild did not even know how Solvi passed his time these days, she was so busy managing the hall. The kitchen was her favorite place, for she had remade it in the image of the best of Ardal. Another year, and she might have all the ingredients she wanted as well.
“There is much to do. The mismanagement that your father has allowed is shameful.”
“Not shameful,” he said, defending his father as he always did. “We are sea kings, not farmers. Gold flows to us, and through our fingers. We do not serve men, nor expect them to serve us.” Of course, he could say that, but someone had to feed men and clothe them. They looked after themselves when they were at sea. Solvi took pride in provisioning his ships well, and when they ran low on stores, replenishing them.
“A hall is much like a ship,” said Svanhild. “It lives by its stomach.”