Ragnvald waved the boat over, and threw a line to the fisherman. He was bemused though not surprised when the man tipped up the brim of his hat and showed himself to be Agi, son of Agmar, fisherman of Geiranger Fjord.
“Ragnar,” he said happily when he saw Ragnvald. Heming raised his eyebrows at the name, but said nothing. “Your face has healed well. And I see you’ve found some friends.”
“Yes,” said Ragnvald. “You’re farther from home than I thought to find you.”
“A mess of ships came this way yesterday and took all of my catch for themselves,” said Agi. “Scared the other fish away too. My wife doesn’t like it when I come back empty.”
“A mess of ships?” Ragnvald asked.
“King Hunthiof and his son—Solvi the Short.” Agi barked out a laugh. “Took my fish himself. Had his new wife with him.”
“How many ships?” Ragnvald asked, his back stiffening at the mention of Svanhild.
“A double handful at least,” said Agi. More than ten, and Agi might not have seen them all.
“We have heard of this,” said Ragnvald to Heming. “There were rumors he had gathered allies to fight Harald this winter.” He turned back to Agi. “Which way did they sail?”
“South,” said Agi. “They stayed in the channel. Usually they head out west.” Out west for raiding across the sea in Ireland. South for raiding on Norse shores. Or Frisia, but Solvi was a friend to Rorik of Dorestad, and he had just been there. No, this must mean that those rumors about Solvi gathering allies were true, and that now he took a force south to make war on Vestfold. Harald’s forces would be too small to defend it without Hakon’s to swell them.
Ragnvald took some silver out of his pouch and counted it out into Agi’s chapped palm. “Thank you, Agi Agmarsson,” he said.
“Ragnvald, we must make the tide,” said Heming.
“Ragnvald?” said Agi, as he threw the rope back. “I’ve heard of you.”
“Ragnvald Eysteinsson of Sogn,” said Ragnvald, ready to be proud of his name for once. “My hall and my hospitality will always be yours.”
Agi gave him a half bow, then maneuvered his boat expertly over the swells and beyond an outcropping of land.
“Ragnvald, the tide,” said Heming again.
“No,” said Ragnvald. “Solvi sails to attack Harald.” His voice sounded choked to his ears.
“What of it? Tafjord will be unguarded,” said Heming. “I’m sorry your sister won’t be there, but it will still be good plunder.”
Plunder Tafjord, take his gold back to Ardal, live to turn that gold into more men and more land. It was the obvious choice. Dark fjord waters washed at the ship’s keel. Ragnvald’s skin felt chill and drowned again. Even gone from Harald, it had made him feel secure knowing that Harald was there in Vestfold, his golden future still assured. If Solvi and Hunthiof could snuff it out, then the gods truly were cruel, and Ragnvald’s vision had been false. It could not have been false. Ronhild the sorceress had said it was true. Ragnvald had felt it was true.
“No,” said Ragnvald, half to himself. Then, to Heming, “We must sail to Harald’s aid.”
Oddi had brought his ship around to lie next to Heming’s while they spoke with Agi. He leapt across the gap between them as soon as they drew close enough. “Why are we waiting?” he asked.
“Ragnvald met a friend,” said Heming, sarcastically. “Although he did not know your name.”
“That man fished me out of the fjord when Solvi tossed me in,” said Ragnvald. “At the time, I thought it prudent not to give my own name so close to Solvi’s home.” He told Oddi what Agi had said. “Harald needs our help.”
“Why do you care?” said Oddi. “We’re going to miss the tide.”
“No,” said Ragnvald. The ships began to rise as the change of tide approached, eddying around them. “We cannot go to Tafjord. Solvi is not there. Svanhild is not there. I will not.”
Oddi looked down at the swirling water. “Harald is not our father’s ally anymore.”
“Yes,” said Ragnvald. “Because Heming broke the alliance. Now Solvi will defeat Harald, and return stronger than ever.” He turned to Heming. “If you sit in his seat in Tafjord, you will only keep it warm until he returns.” The water began to back up against them, push the ships back out of the channel. Oddi and Heming’s pilot exchanged a look of exasperation. Ragnvald pressed on. “It is too late. Let us beach and make a new plan.” They could always make the following tide in the evening.
Heming signaled the ships that were waiting behind them. Men went to their oars. They rode the bolus of water out of the channel and into open water again. After Heming’s fleet pulled up on the beach, his captains rushed to him, demanding answers.
“Ask Ragnvald,” said Heming.
“I have had a vision,” said Ragnvald, thinking of the golden wolf. That vision must still guide him.
“Ragnvald’s visions are important,” said Heming to the crowd. “I have learned this. My brother and I will speak with him privately, and then we can catch the next tide.” Ragnvald glanced at Heming to see if he was being sarcastic. He looked entirely sincere.
Ragnvald held his tongue as the captains dispersed. He did not know what to make of Heming’s words, but he knew must show no uncertainty if he wished to convince Heming of anything.
“What is your vision?” Heming asked.
“That you will gain the gratitude of a king if we sail to his side now.”
“Why are you so certain your golden Harald will lose without us?” Oddi asked.
“Because he does not know sea battles as he does land. Because he will be unprepared. If he loses one battle—” Ragnvald closed his mouth. Harald must not lose a single battle, or he would never be king of all Norway. Harald was Ragnvald’s wyrd, his fate, the source and object of his vision. And Harald would be the one who would unite Norway and keep it whole against the pressures of the wider world, against King Gorm of Denmark, who would make it part of a Danish empire that now included the whole north of England, thanks to Ragnar Lothbrok and his sons.
None of those reasons would impress Heming and Oddi.
“Solvi has, let us say, twenty ships,” said Ragnvald. “He has more allies in Dorestad, and who knows where else. Harald only has his winter forces—not many more than a few hundred warriors. His men will gather back slowly in the spring, until he is ready to strike out again. He has never had to defend Vestfold.” Heming and Oddi listened, their faces grave, so Ragnvald continued before they decided to argue.
“Heming, you broke your father’s alliance with Harald, an alliance that would have enriched you both. If you do this, if we take our forces south to Harald’s aid, you will repair the alliance, and break Solvi.” He could see Heming wavering. “How much more will your father admire you for that than if you take an empty hall?”
Anger and shame warred on Heming’s face. “My father—,” he began.
“Forget about the south,” Oddi cut in impatiently. “No king can rule both south and western Norway, not Harald nor anyone else. Defending Harald will not help either of you.” He shook his head. “Solvi may humiliate Harald, and he is welcome to it.”