The Half-Drowned King

Ragnvald’s legs felt tired and shaky, the aftermath of battle. It left some men giddy, ready for drink and a woman. Ragnvald found it more tiring—he wanted sleep, forgetfulness now.

“We did well,” said Hakon to Ragnvald and Oddi. “These kings have seen rich plunder.” Hakon gestured for Oddi to step aside. He reached down and picked up a small casket with metal hinges instead of the usual leather and held it toward Ragnvald. “Open it.”

Ragnvald did, and found it full of hacksilver, and many coins stamped with a slim, bearded profile Ragnvald knew to be the English king Alfred.

“This is part of the Danegeld,” said Ragnvald.

“The great English ransom,” Oddi echoed. “Cowards,” he added, but without much heat. If the English were willing to pay a Danish army to stay away from their shores, it meant more English treasure could come east. And become Hakon’s treasure.

“Are these kings allied with the Danes?” Ragnvald asked.

“Perhaps,” said Hakon, without much interest. He was secure in his power. “I would give you a ring for your service in the woods this night,” he said to Ragnvald. “But since we found this—I will give you a double handful of silver as well.” He smiled at Ragnvald’s frown of concern. “Use one handful to buy your bride. And another to buy thralls to farm your land.”

Ragnvald looked down at the silver, greedy for his handfuls. He took his share, filling the satchel at his belt. Not all the coins bore Alfred’s face. Some of the coins were lettered with the hard angles of Greek; some others had the graceful curls of Arabic writing. They had come, and seen blood, long before this night.

“My men have kept aside a few unspoiled women,” Hakon added. “Take one, get yourself properly drunk. Time enough for speeches and gifts tomorrow.”

“Some men should guard the treasure,” said Ragnvald, feeling uninterested in women or celebration. He did not know if that was because of the girl who had reminded him of Svanhild, or because of Heming’s threats. Well, one of those had a solution. “If you allow me, I will see to it. But first, I must speak with you.” He lowered his voice. Hakon would not want Harald and Guthorm to know of Heming’s plot. “There is treachery near you.”

Ragnvald looked around for Heming, but wherever he was, it was not here. Perhaps he was enjoying one of those unspoiled women now—all the more reason for Ragnvald to stay clear.

Hakon waved off a few men who stood near. “Tell me,” he said.

“Heming means to leave tonight when all the men are drunk, and sail back to Tafjord to attack Hunthiof and Solvi.”

“How do you know this?”

“He told—he asked me to come with him,” said Ragnvald. It seemed petulant to bring up Heming’s threats, and Hakon might believe him less.

“And you do not wish to?”

“Solvi will keep,” said Ragnvald. In truth, he did not want revenge on Solvi, not the way he did upon Olaf. “I am here now.”

“Thank you for telling me this,” said Hakon, his eyes shadowed. “Come with me. If it is true, Heming will answer for it.”

They found Heming standing under the eaves of one of the outbuildings, together with the captains who must have decided to throw in with him. He looked so guilty when Hakon and Ragnvald approached that Ragnvald did not fear being disbelieved.

“Is what I would give you not enough?” Hakon roared, on seeing him. The captains glanced at each other and, by unspoken accord, slunk off in various directions. Hakon narrowed his eyes at their leaving, but did not stop them. “I would have made you king of Maer, had you only waited a season. Ragnvald here would have been your adviser and companion.”

Ragnvald made his face as impassive as possible, trying not to show how ill that would have suited him.

“Explain yourself,” said Hakon.

“I am a man’s age now, have been five years gone,” said Heming, his hand on his sword. Ragnvald put his own there. He was sworn to defend Hakon. “Yet you treat me like a boy.”

“Because you act like a boy.”

“King Hunthiof is your sworn enemy. I want to kill him for you. You defied your father and conquered Halogaland,” said Heming, his angry tone turning aggrieved.

“Because I was a younger son, and my father did not mean to give me anything I could not take with my own hands. I conquered Halogaland before my older brother could.”

“That is not what the songs say,” said Heming.

“You call me a liar?” Hakon roared. “The songs say what I will them to say.”

“I’m sure your puppet Ragnvald said what you wanted him to say too.”

Ragnvald tightened his grip on his sword, in case Heming should draw on him now.

“Ragnvald is sworn to me, not you. He did what a man ought,” Hakon said.

Ragnvald wanted to be far away from here. If he left, would they stop talking about him? He continued to back away, slowly, in case Hakon bid him stay, but he did not. Ragnvald had volunteered to set guards for Hakon’s treasure, and that would serve to keep him busy and out of Heming’s way until morning.

*

Oddi came to sit by him later in the night. Ragnvald paced back and forth in the dark, around the pile of treasure that Hakon had looted. The hall smoldered and smoked. He greeted Oddi, who sat on a rock, looking down toward the river, toward the grove where they had done their killing.

“My father has spent half the night scolding Heming and the other half torturing the captives. He is angry.” Oddi spread his hands. They were still red with blood, flecked with darker specks of something thicker—from battle, or else he had been called on to help with the torture. When Ragnvald sailed with him, Solvi had said that some men had the stomach for torture, and some did not. Solvi himself did not, he said, and so he kept Ulfarr to do the work for him. He had said it was not unmanly, for true men had deep feelings. Ragnvald had wondered then, what Ulfarr thought of that, but Ulfarr seemed proud to do this bloody work, to set himself apart from the ranks of other men. Ragnvald would not have thought Oddi had the stomach for it either, at least not to seek it out.

“Did you do it? The . . . questioning?” Ragnvald asked.

“No,” said Oddi. “It is bad enough to see. He cut the guts out of the first man while his fellows watched. I think he wanted to frighten Guthorm and Harald.” He shook his head as if to dispel the vision. “At least I did not vomit. All we learned is that King Gudbrand is on the move with his warriors. He has heard of our coming or of Harald’s. We will not catch him, not without more information, or more men.”

Ragnvald was surprised at that. They had near on four hundred men, and Harald at least that many, surely more than a petty Hordaland king could likely muster, at least on short notice. He said as much to Oddi.

“Gudbrand has raised men against Harald already,” said Oddi.

“Then he should be easy to find. That many men cannot pass unnoticed. Will we put more halls to the torch?” Ragnvald asked, feeling stupid from lack of sleep.

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