*
As they walked into the hall, Ragnvald passed by the room where he had met with Svanhild. A guard was now posted by the door.
“What happened?” Ragnvald asked. “Who put you here?”
“The lady Ronhild,” said the guard. “The lady within tried to escape.” Pregnant and alone, of course she would. Between her will and Hakon’s needs, Ragnvald felt helpless. Harald would doubtless be persuaded to send her to Solvi, and everyone would get what they wanted, except Ragnvald, and Svanhild would grow to regret her choice. How could she do otherwise?
Harald and the party had gotten ahead of him, and Ragnvald hurried to catch up. They sat near the fire for some midday bread and cheese. A thrall brought mugs of watered ale.
“Your son did well,” Guthorm was saying.
“It is true,” said Harald, glancing at his uncle. “I still wish my friend Thorbrand not killed, his wife not widowed, but Heming was a true warrior and a friend to Norway in the end.”
“Norway,” said Hakon. “What is that? You dress your own ambition up in these false colors. There is no Norway. There are lands separated by kings and valleys, lands that will never be reconciled to one another. Your Norway will be a weak land with a weak king.”
“I hear your own fears in your words,” said Guthorm.
“My Norway will have many kings,” said Harald. “You and your sons among them, if you will be my ally again. Must we make war on each other again? Remember, I defeated Solvi at a fraction of my usual fighting strength.”
“Because you had my men,” said Hakon.
“And many of those were killed, while mine were not. They are still at their farms.”
“What kind of king are you, to boast that you let other men do your fighting for you? You should be ashamed even to say this to me.”
“It is not a boast,” said Guthorm, stepping between them, as he had at the trial for Heming’s life. “It is only truth. Harald is at better strength now than you, if it comes to a fight. Furthermore, your men have fought alongside him and his captain Ragnvald, as have your sons. Are you sure they will be loyal to you?”
One of Hakon’s men, who had come with him into the hall, shifted uneasily. None of the men would like to be accused of disloyalty, and Ragnvald did not really think they would follow him rather than their sworn king. Hakon looked as though his angry certainty had been shaken, though. He tugged at his beard, rubbing the ends between thumb and forefinger.
“Help me get my son,” he said, sounding tired now. “He helped you; Now you must help him.” He gave Ragnvald a look of disdain. “Ragnvald will not mind trading his sister to Solvi for him, if he is as loyal to you as he would claim.”
“We will sail out and attack him. I mean to marry the girl,” said Harald, at the same time as Ragnvald began to voice a protest.
“This is the cost of my friendship,” said Hakon firmly.
“Your friendship is precious,” Guthorm assured him. He looked at Harald and Ragnvald. “We must think on this.”
*
Harald and Guthorm considered for a few days, while the snow melted and Hunthiof’s body moldered. Harald wanted to speak to Svanhild, but until Guthorm made up his mind about what to do, he would not let Harald in to see her. Harald might be too swept away by the heroism of fighting Solvi for Svanhild, and Guthorm could not allow it. Finally, they called Ragnvald in to help decide.
Harald had a chamber he shared with whatever woman took his fancy—until Heming’s duel, it had been Hakon’s daughter Asa. It contained a bed as well as some chairs and a table, which was where Guthorm and Harald were sitting when the servant brought Ragnvald in. He had never been invited here before. There were circles within circles of belonging to Harald.
“King Hakon has ever been more trouble than he is worth,” said Harald.
“He has few enough men with him now,” said Guthorm. “But he can still muster from all of the north and much of the west.”
“Ragnvald, what do you think?” Harald asked.
“Svanhild is my sister. How can I give a fair answer?”
“You always give a fair answer.”
Ragnvald sighed. “Let me talk to her again.”
“What will you say?” Guthorm asked. Ragnvald did not know. He was grateful when Harald spoke.
“I do not wish to send her back against her will,” he said. “Perhaps we can trade King Hunthiof’s body and some prisoners for Heming.” If he still lived. Hakon had looked drawn and worried, and he spoke of a wound that festered. If Harald and Guthorm waited too long, they would certainly make an enemy of Hakon.
Guthorm shook his head. “Hakon swears Solvi will only trade for her. He said he does not care where his father lies.” Ragnvald was troubled by the blasphemy. He did not want Hunthiof’s body resting at Vestfold. “Do you think you can convince her?”
Ragnvald sighed. “I do not think it is against her will. Would that it were otherwise.”
Harald gave him leave to go speak with Svanhild, and he went to the room where they had put her. She had shared a chamber with Harald’s mother these past few days.
“Ragnvald, I do not wish to be here,” she said as soon as he entered. “Return me to Solvi.”
“You have only one song, dear sister.” He sat next to her. “I have done as I promised, and found you a fine husband. If you refused to go, I might convince them to defend you.”
“I refuse to stay.”
“At least help me understand. What is Solvi to you now? Why do you prize him more than me?”
She drew her knees up and pulled her skirt down over them, so she sat as if within a tent. For a time she did not say anything, but then she tilted her head and looked at him. “Solvi is my freedom. Will any of your fine choices for husbands take me raiding with them? Or will it be halls and children and first wives whose word is law? Will I be left at home while my men go out and live?”
“You loved the farm at Ardal.”
“Not as I love this. Not as I love him.”
Ragnvald did not want to hear more of this. He stood and paced the room, this soft women’s room where he did not belong.
“And what of you, brother? Are you content to be the messenger of kings, always dependent on their will? I always wondered why you did not go and carve out your own land.”
A path closed to both of them now. He did not ask if Svanhild would follow him then, across the sea. She had made her choice. “The bones of our ancestors lie in Sogn’s earth,” he said. “We were born to keep that land safe, and with Harald as king, that will happen.”
“And he is your golden wolf,” said Svanhild. At Ragnvald’s surprised expression, she put out her hand to him. “Ronhild and I have spoken. Now tell me what you came to say.”
He took her hand in his. “This is what is happening: Harald, Guthorm, and Hakon are all agreed. Do you know what you are being sold for?”
“Hakon’s son.”