“I am ruler here,” said Ragnvald, feeling she had cast him as a boy again. “You will do as I say.”
“Of course,” she said with a secret smile, letting her hair fall partially over her face. Of course, her voice said, you will be ruled by me. Ragnvald got out of bed and pulled on his hose and tunic. That would not be the way of things. He must bring Hilda here. He must put aside any thought of the rich rewards Hakon and Harald had offered. He must put Ardal in order, so when a king, any king, came in conquest, they would ask for his oath of obedience, not his surrender.
*
Vigdis was a fair hand at managing the farm, and though Olaf’s grasp on Eystein’s land had slipped over the years, the farm itself was stocked well enough to feed the men Ragnvald had brought with him until summer. As the snow cleared from the lower slopes of the mountains, Ragnvald lost himself in planning for spring. Oddi and the other men were willing enough to work, for meals and turns with the women thralls. Some began training the boys who had been Olaf’s only defense.
“What will you do?” Ragnvald asked Oddi. It was a cold day. Snow threatened again. The cows nosed through a crackling of ice to reach the dry grass underneath. They would probably cut their lips and need salve. He made a note to ask his mother if she had enough prepared.
He should send for Hilda soon, but he hesitated. Once he did that, he would be truly resigned to this fate. A wealthy farmer, owner of Ardal. At one time, it had been his only aspiration, but now it felt small.
“I suppose I must return to my father eventually,” said Oddi. He frowned and kicked at a tussock. “War is coming. War that will sweep over all of this land. Perhaps I can convince my father to send me to the Faeroe Islands until it passes over.”
“Do you think he will?” Ragnvald asked. He had suggested Hakon send Heming there, he recalled. They lay in the farthest reaches of the North Sea, north even of the Orkneys, far away from any Norse wars.
“No,” said Oddi. “That is why I remain here.”
*
The first spring breeze, smelling of green things, brought with it a messenger from Heming. It was a young man, hardly more than a boy, who came at midday with news from the outside world. Ragnvald recognized him, and Oddi greeted him.
“Arnfast, coming with the speed of eagles,” said Oddi, making a jest on his name. “What have you come to tell us?”
The boy was slender, a born runner. He had run the hill quickly, covering the ground with a loping stride. His breath was still coming hard when he answered, “Nothing very urgent. I only wanted to run.”
“You did not race at the ting,” said Ragnvald, remembering the race he himself had won.
“King Hakon did not want anyone to know how fleet I am.” Arnfast grinned. “Give me some ale, and I will tell you the news.”
He told them that Hakon had taken Heming and returned to Yrjar, not long after Ragnvald left. There was an unbridgeable rift between Hakon and Harald. After a few weeks in Yrjar, Heming grew tired of his father’s scolding.
“Hakon blames Heming for souring his alliance with Harald,” said Arnfast.
“That surprises me,” said Ragnvald sourly. “He would have broken it on some pretext sooner or later.”
“Ragnvald,” said Oddi warningly.
“Am I wrong?”
“Arnfast is too young for talk like this,” said Oddi, so serious-faced that Ragnvald knew he spoke in jest.
Arnfast continued: “Heming gathered as many of King Hakon’s men as he could convince and is planning to sail against Tafjord.” To Oddi, he added, “Your father is wroth with you. You should have stayed in Vestfold to leave with them.”
“I’ll not be lessoned by you,” said Oddi, with some heat. “You’re with Heming now.”
“I was bored,” said Arnfast, shrugging. “I think your father did not mind Heming’s plan.”
“What have you heard of Solvi?” Ragnvald asked. “Did he return to Tafjord?”
“We have heard many things,” said Arnfast. “Some say he spent the winter in Dorestad, or even with the Danish king. Others say he returned to Tafjord.” He laughed. “I guess Heming will find out.”
“Heming is as foolish as ever,” said Ragnvald under his breath to Oddi.
“He sent me here to find out if you would join him,” said Arnfast. He sat up and continued formally, “Oddbjorn Hunthiofsson and Ragnvald Eysteinsson, Heming Hakonsson requests your aid in defeating a sworn enemy: King Hunthiof and his son Solvi. To Oddbjorn he bids me say that brothers should stand together. To Ragnvald he says that you have been a friend when he deserved it least, and he wishes you by his side. As you help Heming grow his lands, so will he help you grow yours. Will you join him?”
Ragnvald barked a laugh, both at the message and Arnfast’s formal delivery. So Heming finally had his wish: to sail against Solvi.
“I did not try to save Heming’s life for friendship,” he said.
Arnfast shrugged. “He is grateful still.”
“You might win Svanhild back,” said Oddi. “Is it not worth stomaching my brother for that?”
Of all the men who had asked for his loyalty, Heming was the one Ragnvald wished to follow least, and yet here was his chance. Svanhild might be at Tafjord. If Heming were successful, he would win his father’s good graces, and Ragnvald might gain the gratitude of a king again—a king who would never trust him as he had before, but it would be better than his enmity.
“I would like some time to decide,” Ragnvald said.
“Heming is waiting in the barrier islands outside Geiranger Fjord,” said Arnfast. “He will wait another week and then proceed without you.”
“A day,” said Ragnvald. “You will have my answer tomorrow.”
*
“Do you hesitate because of my brother?” Oddi asked when he came upon Ragnvald, lost in thought by the fire. When Ragnvald was a boy, he remembered watching the fire while adults talked over his head, trying to see the shapes in the flames. Now whenever he looked, he saw reminders of his vision of Harald.
“No,” said Ragnvald.
“Because we might take back your sister—I do not see why you should hesitate at all.”
He hesitated because he wanted too much. He wanted to believe that Heming could succeed, and by his success Ragnvald might rise. Then at least Harald might see him as worthy of notice. Harald had loved Thorbrand better, and thrown Ragnvald aside for his vengeance, while Ragnvald had delayed his vengeance upon Olaf for Harald, or so it seemed to him now.
“I fear for Ardal if I go,” said Ragnvald. “I have killed its protector.”
“Tafjord is not far from here,” said Oddi. “You will be back before the raiding season begins.”
“And I have Sigurd,” said Ragnvald sarcastically. “He will be a great help.”
“Perhaps you do him wrong,” said Oddi. “I have spoken with him. He wants responsibility.”
“So he can stab me in the back?”