“I thought my betrothed an honorable man,” she added desperately.
Solvi burst out laughing. “Your betrothed? My lady, you are bold. But you are right, I do seek you, so it is you who put these people in danger.”
She took a shallow breath. She had hoped and feared that it was true, and having it confirmed only made her fear the greater.
“It was you who put them in danger, my lord,” said Svanhild. She had dared greatly already, and she had as much as consented to marrying Solvi now. “And as this shows no honor, you must not be my betrothed. For I am sure my family would not betroth me to a dishonorable man.” She risked a glance at Solvi’s men. A few of his older sailors were openly grinning at Svanhild’s logic, while the younger ones watched, eyes round and wondering.
“What does a woman know of honor?” asked Solvi, his smile sharpening unpleasantly. Svanhild quailed—had she gone too far? She took her hand from Solvi’s arm and turned away, the picture of a woman’s scorn. It was a calculated gesture, and Solvi would know it, but she played to more than just him now.
“A woman may know honor,” she said. Her favorite stories had served her well so far; she prayed they would continue. “A woman like the Swedish Gudrun, who killed her own sons since they were the sons of the man who betrayed her? A woman like Unna, who spurred her sluggard husband to vengeance? I think a woman can know honor better than a man.” She looked around at Solvi’s other men. Even the older ones now wore thoughtful expressions, as though they truly listened to her words. She had never been heeded by so many at once. It was intoxicating, a heady draught of fear and power.
She turned to Solmund. “My friend,” she said. “Will you please gift my betrothed with something suitable to celebrate our union?” Solmund glanced at Solvi, who shrugged and nodded. Solmund directed his sons to pull up the deck boards that protected his wares.
Svanhild put her hand back on Solvi’s arm and smiled blandly at him.
“What are you playing at, Svanhild?” he asked under his breath.
“Let these people go, and I will come with you willingly,” she said in the same undertone.
“You’ll be coming with me whether you like it or not.”
“Your men will be fishing me out of the sea if you do not do as I ask. Well kicked and bitten for their troubles,” she said. She had never felt so clearheaded. She could walk across these waves if she had a mind to.
Solmund emerged from under the decking with a beautiful necklace and arm ring, which he presented to Svanhild and Solvi.
“May we leave now?” Solvi asked, voice loud enough for all to hear. “Finding you is worth any treasure we may have forgone.”
Svanhild smiled at his sarcastic tone. He might mock her, but he still played her game. “Solmund and his family rescued your bride and brought her to you,” she said. “Do they not deserve a reward?”
Solvi leaned forward to whisper in her ear as though they were lovers. “How far do you mean to push this, Svanhild? Your games are charming, but my patience is not infinite.”
Svanhild flushed with anger, but still smiled, as though it was his teasing words that made her cheeks flame. A few of Solvi’s men now seemed to be growing bored, for the game was ending. They rested their hands on their swords, knees moving with the rhythm of the ocean, keeping their balance as naturally as breathing. The younger ones still looked to Solvi hopefully, though. They watched a scene out of a tale, their shining eyes said, and they wanted it to come out right, the honorable rewarded, the guilty punished. Svanhild tipped her face up to Solvi’s.
“Your men love a generous lord, do they not? Do they not boast to their friends of the fine rings you have given them?”
“English coin,” said Solvi, loud enough for all aboard to hear. “Your wares and your services will be paid for.” He jerked his chin at one of his men, who went to fetch it.
“May I say my good-byes, my lord?” Svanhild asked, now in an ordinary tone. The performance was over. She had won, but what? Freedom for Solmund’s family, and captivity for herself. Her limbs felt leaden. The rain still fell, plastering her hair to the sides of her face. None would see a heroine now in a short, drenched girl.
“What trick is this?” he asked.
“None,” she said sharply. “I am yours.”
He grabbed her arm hard. “Are you, Svanhild?”
She pulled it out of his grasp, frightened by his harshness. “As much as I ever will be.” The wind blew strongly behind her, and carried her words to him alone. “If you mistreat me, my brother will avenge me. You failed to kill him once. Think well on that.” She turned away from him.
She hugged Solmund and Haldora good-bye. Solmund had no words for her. Svanhild thought she saw Hunthiof’s old hall in his eyes, the hall of the dead. She told herself that Hunthiof must have changed since then, or Solvi would not have survived to adulthood. Haldora leaned close when they embraced and whispered a shaky thanks in Svanhild’s ear that made tears spring to her eyes. She blinked them back before she let Haldora go, and walked with her head held high to Solvi, who took her arm and helped her over the gunwale into his ship.
21
The men rose slowly the next day, after the battle. Ragnvald watched a few start fires, through eyes gritty with sleep unslept.
“You are not good company after a battle, Ragnvald Eysteinsson,” said Oddi, pulling Ragnvald up out of his thoughts. He touched Ragnvald on the shoulder, a friendly gesture, and Ragnvald smiled slightly.
“I’m probably better company than your brother was last night,” said Ragnvald. “But forgive me—it matters not whether I drink, even. I am sorry if I gave you nightmares.”
“No,” said Oddi. His hands were clean this morning. Ragnvald wondered if he would speak of it more—what his father had made him watch. But Ragnvald did not want to ask. “No,” said Oddi again, “I found a skin of ale and a girl who wanted to share it with me.”
Ragnvald lifted one eyebrow. “Did she?”
“Well, she wanted a warm place to spend the night, and I warmed her well.” He sighed and shrugged. “My brother is wroth today.”
“Do you know what your father means to do?” Ragnvald asked.
“He has set down Heming’s captains and raised others to command their men,” said Oddi. He gave Ragnvald a mocking look. “My brother swears vengeance on his betrayer.”
Ragnvald glared at him. “My oath was to his father, not him. Your father. I do not like a man who would threaten me to bring me to his cause.”
“Heming will kill you,” said Oddi. He said it with such a lack of affect that it chilled Ragnvald’s blood. Oddi had been friends with Jarl Runolf too.
“He can try,” said Ragnvald, trying to sound unworried. He should not dwell on it; since Solvi, he had known he was not safe. “What would you have me do?”