“He will come back to Tafjord, though,” said Ragnvald.
“Let us simply raid Tafjord, then,” said Oddi. “We can sail there, and away, and leave the halls burned to the ground.”
“Yes,” said Heming. “My father will admire us for that. Then we can send to him, and with his aid we will hold all of Hunthiof’s lands, and perhaps even take Sogn for you—that is what Harald offered you, is it not?”
Ragnvald shook his head. Hakon would not be eager for Heming to give over Sogn, but if his son ruled Maer from Tafjord and valued Ragnvald, Hakon might change his mind. A strong king who owed Hakon service would be a wise choice for Sogn. No king had ruled there since Ragnvald’s grandfather.
“Harald sent you away,” said Oddi to Ragnvald. “He does not value you.”
Now it was Ragnvald’s turn to falter. Harald would not give him Sogn, not now. This was his chance to redeem his father’s mistakes—but how? By taking Tafjord, or by bringing an army to Harald when he needed it most? If Solvi won in Vestfold, he would return with tenfold strength to Tafjord, and make foolish what Heming planned.
“He sent me away,” said Ragnvald. And then the fates sent him Agi again to remind him of his vision. That is what he must remember now. “Perhaps that was the will of the gods. So I could come to you, and bring you to him.”
“The gods do smile on you,” said Heming, with an odd, twisted smile of his own. Ragnvald could not read what it meant; he had never heard Heming speak like this, or wear such a face.
“If this is them smiling, I would hate to see their enmity,” Ragnvald muttered. Sogn, or even a part of it, was never offered to him except the moment before it was taken away. At the trial, with Harald, and now with Heming. Following that lure had always led him into danger.
“I know the gods’ enmity,” said Heming quietly. Ragnvald looked at Heming and saw gold and good luck, a man blessed by the gods. “Do you truly think this is their plan?”
“I think that if you restore the alliance between your father and Harald, he will bless you more than he would for raiding Tafjord,” said Ragnvald. “Believe that if you do not care for my plans or visions.”
“You thought my father meant to betray Harald,” said Oddi.
Ragnvald was taken aback that Oddi would throw those words back at him in front of Heming. “And you said he wanted it to be in his own time,” Ragnvald replied. “I do not know what your father has planned, Heming, but I do know he was angry at you for breaking the alliance. If you sail to Harald’s side, Harald will give you land and men. Harald will value you for your own sake.”
Heming gave Ragnvald a look of desperate hope, almost like the one he had worn in Harald’s hall, when his fate lay in the balance. Hakon must have been harsh to his son since they left Vestfold.
“I have been a fool. Since my duel with Runolf at the Sogn ting, or even before.” He sighed. “I have been wrong many times, and you have been right, and I have hated you for it.”
“You were not so wrong,” said Ragnvald. “How different would everything be now if we had sailed against Solvi after we went raiding in Hordaland? You were right then, and I was wrong.”
“If right, then for the wrong reasons,” said Heming. “I will do as you advise. If you think Tafjord would be a hollow victory, then let us follow your vision back to Vestfold.” Ragnvald peered at him, looking for signs that he might be making some strange jest, but he looked sincere. If it were true, if Heming had truly changed, he might now grow into someone Ragnvald could respect. This man would be a worthy successor for Hakon, with his hard-won wisdom.
Oddi had been watching both of them, growing more and more incredulous, until finally he burst out, “You cannot be willing to give Harald aid, brother.”
“Think how much more glorious the tale than sacking an empty hall,” said Heming, with a hint of his old lightness. Then, more firmly, “The ships are mine to command.”
Oddi shrugged. “At least we’ll get to kill Solvi’s men.”
“We are both right now,” said Ragnvald to Heming. “Your father will be pleased when he is Harald’s friend again, Solvi is defeated, and all of his allies are scattered.”
“If we win,” said Oddi grimly.
“We will win,” said Heming. “You speak to the captains, Ragnvald. This plan is yours.”
*
Oddi still insisted on sending messengers to Hakon, telling what they had done.
“I had meant to bring him Solvi and Tafjord as a finished victory,” said Heming when he found out.
“Perhaps he will send aid,” said Ragnvald. He doubted Hakon would, but the chance only cost them a small ship, and the men to crew it. They still had to wait on the tide to depart. Ragnvald feared they would never catch up with Solvi, his fleet ships, his preternatural knowledge of currents and weather. Their force might arrive after the battle was over.
When the ships finally did leave, in the waning hours of the next day, Ragnvald took up a position in the craft captained by Grim, Hakon’s best captain. Oddi and Heming had wanted to sail with him, but Ragnvald persuaded Oddi to take the next ship, the one whose job was to stay always in view of Ragnvald and Grim’s without letting any of Solvi’s ships see him.
Heming brought up the rear. Ragnvald was glad to be away from both of them, and that he had persuaded them to separate from one another. Oddi would probably continue to fret over this, and he could too easily change Heming’s mind. On his own, though, he must put on a brave front for his warriors.
Grim was more pleasant to Ragnvald than he had been on the way to Hordaland last summer, though he looked the same, like the first man Odin carved from an ash tree. “This is a clever plan of yours,” he said when Ragnvald came to check on him where he sat at the steering oar.
Ragnvald ran the words over in his head, looking for any sarcasm. Hearing none, he nodded. “How is our speed?”
“Good,” said Grim. “The sail is cold and damp in this weather, so it will not fill as easily, and that hampers our speed, but we have a good wind.”
Ragnvald thanked him and turned to walk toward the front of the ship again. There was nothing he could do to bring Solvi’s ships into view except wait and trust in Grim’s skill, and whatever gods would direct the winds, then trust in Grim’s skill further to keep them close enough to Solvi’s ships without being seen.
The first night they camped on a beach where Ragnvald had rested a few times before. He knew the sand would cache pools of rainwater for fresh drinking and stewing some dried meat into something more digestible.
“See here, my lords,” said Grim, when they discussed their plans for the next day’s sailing. He scraped a rough map into the coarse sand. “Solvi will keep to the inner passage here, among the barrier islands, to protect his ships.”