“You would know, Half-Drowned,” said Oddi. Ragnvald did not like this new name Oddi had for him.
“Do you think that—do you think me half dead?” Ragnvald asked. Perhaps he was; perhaps that was why he could not feel pride in this killing, as he had when raiding with Solvi. Perhaps Solvi had cut out that part of him when he fell, or Ran had stolen it in the water, and what emerged was half a draugr already.
“No,” said Oddi. “I jest . . . when I should not. You did a brave thing tonight.”
“Do you think he knew—do you think he was sensible of anything? Do you think he had pain or fear when he died?” He should stop talking; Oddi could not know the answer to these questions. No one could.
“I don’t think he felt fear or pain,” said Oddi. “He did not seem to. That is why—why I was frightened.”
“Do you think he went back to his sister during the day?” Ragnvald persisted.
“Stop,” said Oddi. “I do not know why you ask these things, but it cannot help to know. It was an evil creature, and you killed it. Nothing else should matter.”
Ragnvald took another drink rather than continue to ask, and when the thrall would have poured him another, he took her wrist instead, and took her into a darkened corner of the hall. Under the blankets, she spread her legs for him, and let him sleep and forget.
14
Solvi departed from the gathering grounds not long after Hakon did. He had won enough gold on horse fights and other races to make up for what he had been forced to pay Ragnvald, but he still felt he came away a loser.
There was not a man leaving the ting assembly who would not think that Olaf had paid Solvi to kill Ragnvald. Solvi’s father would not be pleased about that. Some might even suspect the truth—that it was Hunthiof who had brokered the murder—and he would be even less pleased about that. The longer Solvi delayed, the more likely someone else would carry the news to him, and Hunthiof would have time to burn out his anger before Solvi saw him again.
The men Solvi had brought with him—Snorri, Ulfarr, and Tryggulf—had been his companions since boyhood and followed him in everything. Hunthiof had assigned them to be Solvi’s minders when he first decided as a boy not to die from his wounds, not to sit in the corner and be a cripple all his life. He did not remember the fire that cost him his height, and nearly cost him his life. He had a nurse, who said that he passed a year between life and death. He remembered the next year, watching other children walk when he could not, learning to crawl and then dragging himself along on sticks, and finally walking again. He remembered his mother, who had loved him and wanted him to live, but who had been too horrified by his injuries at first to spend much time with him. Then she died of a fever before he could walk again.
Hunthiof had given these men the task of making Solvi into a man and keeping him out of trouble, and when he reached majority, the first thing he asked was for his father to release them from their oath to him, and to ask them to swear loyalty to Solvi instead. He kept them by him now, for not only were they loyal but they reminded him that he could win men to him even as a crippled boy.
They passed a few weeks visiting Solvi’s scattered men on the islands that guarded Norway’s shore. This one supported only one hut, and enough grass for a family of small, shaggy goats. After enduring the scolding of their host’s wife after Ulfarr half knocked down their hovel in a wrestling match, Tryggulf asked, “Are we going back to Tafjord?”
“Yes,” said their host, Vathi, scowling at his wife, “go, and then come back with more ships and men.” Solvi only traveled in a small skiff with his companions. He had left the horses with a friend on the mainland. “I want to go raiding this summer. You can see my welcome here is piss-poor.”
Solvi had been enjoying passing news and gossip with his men who lived here, half in the sea, his true men. They dwelt in rude structures, thick-walled—except Vathi’s, it seemed—hardly tall enough for even Solvi to stand up in. They spent their days fishing, harassing other fishermen, or occasionally banding together to take tax from passing merchant ships, if the timing and wind were right. They grew restive quickly, quarreling with their wives and each other, and each asked Solvi when he might put together another raiding party. They had heard that Vestfold grew fat on conquest, and undefended, while Harald’s war took him away.
“Maybe if you brought me something pretty next time,” said Vathi’s wife, “your welcome would be warmer.”
“Are you going to impress seagulls with it, woman?” It was clearly an argument they had fought many times before. “I’m saving it.”
“Saving it for what? Are you going to be a prince some day?”
“Saving it for a better wife,” he muttered.
“Ha, who’d have you?”
“At least I could find a wife who’d give me children.” This shut the wife up, and she went into her half-fallen hut. The sounds of her moving heavy cookware issued from within.
“I don’t know yet,” said Solvi, both amused and discomfited by this display. He had a wife at home, a wife who would be only slightly happier to see him than his father would. If Svanhild were there, she might give him a warmer welcome, and want to hear of his adventures. Or even go on them, though he could hardly picture her here with Vathi and his wife, who stank of fish and sweat, and could do nothing but argue.
If only he could sneak into Tafjord and sneak out with a few ships, he would never need to face them.
“Might be best to stick close to home. I’ve heard things. Kings’ doings,” said Vathi. Things Solvi had just finished telling him—most of these men were none too bright. Solvi tried to look patient and interested as Vathi continued, “Well, if you need a good soldier, you know where to find me. I’ll make muster, for a little treasure.” Vathi looked troubled, though, as well he might, for Solvi had also told him the rest, that standing with Hunthiof might put him on the losing side. Solvi could see no way out of that. If all of Vestfold’s armies and all Hakon’s lands of Stjordal and Halogaland stood against them, there was nothing to be done.
Or Vathi might only worry about leaving his wife alone again. Perhaps he did not hate her as much as it seemed.
Later that night, Snorri pulled Solvi aside. He did not like to speak much through his ruined mouth, and like many men of few words, those he did trouble to say were worth listening to.
“You cannot avoid it forever,” Snorri said to Solvi. Because they had been sailing together for so long, Solvi had no doubt what he meant. He sighed. Of course, Snorri was right. He would have to face his father, and Harald’s and Hakon’s threat.