“You don’t,” said Ragnvald.
“I’m a bastard with no ambition, except to please my father,” said Oddi. “Makes life easier.”
“I want to please my father too,” said Ragnvald.
“Do the dead talk to you, Ragnvald Half-Drowned?”
Ragnvald shook his head. Leaving Hakon’s service meant leaving Oddi too, perhaps, and he would miss this. Oddi knew just how to distract Ragnvald from his moods.
“What do you think your father will say?” Ragnvald asked.
“It will not be pleasant,” said Oddi. “He is jealous. Of Harald’s power, of the greatness that accrues to his name, of many things. My brother Heming comes by his faults honestly.”
Ragnvald had seen those faults, even while he looked for Hakon’s virtues. “Knowing that will not help me sleep,” he said with a short laugh.
“I know,” said Oddi. “But try, anyway. For my sake, at least.”
*
Ragnvald had his chance to speak with Hakon the next morning. Harald’s hall and the landscape around it seemed crowded to him, hemmed about by fields that he did not know, and by responsibilities that kept him from exploring them. He could see that Hakon felt the same. At Yrjar he had a long shore to walk, where he could see his fort and all his ships beached, like dogs sleeping next to one another in front of a warm fire. Here the ships were crowded into the small harbor, stacked deep.
“Harald will need a new capital, I think,” said Ragnvald, “if he would be king. He could be easily trapped in here.”
“If he would be king,” said Hakon. “Do you still see as clearly as when I sent you off with my son? Can you tell me what I must know of Harald?”
Ragnvald hesitated, though he was sworn to Hakon now, and Harald would want him to fulfill his first oath. Those words of Harald’s had troubled him—the idealism was all very fine, but a young king, still growing into his power, could not afford to be so picky about his allies. He might need the services of an oath-breaker one day.
“He is young,” said Ragnvald carefully. “I must tell you—he has asked me to swear to him, to be his captain for life.”
“And he flatters you with songs,” said Hakon. “You who said he hated flattery.”
“The skalds sing the truth of that battle, no more,” said Ragnvald diffidently. He did not hate flattery. No, he craved it so much he distrusted that craving. He walked a half step behind Hakon as they trod the beach.
“So I should fear your advice?” Hakon asked.
“No,” said Ragnvald. “I would not lie to you, nor even bend the truth. I see certain things: you wish the districts of Norway for your sons. Harald wishes the districts of Norway for his allies, and him over them all. There is not necessarily a conflict.”
“Yes, I know this,” said Hakon impatiently. Ragnvald’s face heated with anger and embarrassment. He only wanted Hakon to know that he saw it too. “Have you already decided—or do you wish me to buy your favor back?”
“He has other allies, though, beyond your sons,” said Ragnvald, trying to steer the conversation back to his oath.
“Yet he wants you. You bring nothing to him, though, except—” Hakon pressed his lips together. Ragnvald could read what he would not say: he had liked Ragnvald well when he was raising him up, but now that Ragnvald surpassed his sons, Hakon liked him less. “Well, what would you tell me of Harald?”
“He is young, and inexperienced. He is too idealistic for his own good,” said Ragnvald. Hakon nodded. “Yet he is blessed by the gods. He can fight. The tales do not lie about that. That alone would make him a formidable leader. Guthorm drives his strategy, but Harald is more than a figurehead. He has vision and wisdom of his own. He stirs men’s imagination, and has wealth enough to keep them by his side. He is god-blessed and lucky.”
“I expected better of you,” said Hakon crossly. “You are young, but not credulous. Where is your clear sight? I had hoped you would tell me that he was only a puppet in Guthorm’s hands.”
“I see what I see.”
Hakon peered at Ragnvald as though he could look directly into his mind. “You truly think he can do it? Put all of Norway under his rule?”
“I do.” Ragnvald let out a long breath. “It will be harder without you by his side. It may even be impossible. If you stood against him, you would destroy each other. With him, you would be great allies.” But Harald would be Hakon’s king, and Hakon’s sons must be Harald’s subjects. Hakon might not be able to swallow that.
Hakon picked up his pace along the rocky margin of the water. Dead reeds made the ground marshy. “What of my sons?” he asked. “How do I put them in his way?”
“I have done what I can for Heming.” Ragnvald fingered the edge of his tunic, running his thumb along the hem, which was shiny with wear. Adviser to kings, wearing threadbare homespun. He should spend some of the silver he had won in battle on a new tunic, so he looked the part he wished to play.
“Had you not taken me in, I would have . . .” Ragnvald had tried not to think of it. Would he have gone to Hrolf’s farm with Svanhild? Would he travel with Solvi now, and raid again on the open ocean, always having to look behind him, in case Solvi thought it good to try murdering him again? He would not have met Harald. “I would not be here. I would be a poorer man. I owe you duty for the rest of my life, and you can always count me an ally.”
Hakon waved him off. “Speak plainly, Ragnvald. This flattery becomes you ill.”
“It is gratitude.”
“Yes, with your ambition and pride, you wear gratitude like a too-small tunic.” He glanced at Ragnvald’s clothes, and Ragnvald colored. “You are Harald’s man now, in your heart.”
Ragnvald nodded.
“But your Harald does not like oath-breakers.”
“I have broken no oaths. I am your man. I did what you asked.”
“And now you want to be freed.” Hakon’s eyes gave no clue of what he wanted Ragnvald’s answer to be. There was no freedom where kings took an interest, only power and favors.
“I want too many things,” said Ragnvald. “Solvi Hunthiofsson is your enemy and mine. And Harald’s too. Now that you have helped Harald in Hordaland, will you give me and Heming leave to go after him, and take Svanhild back?”
“What of your father’s land, Ragnvald Eysteinsson? Would you not see that restored?”
“I would,” said Ragnvald. “But my sister’s honor must come first.”
“Had you asked me for a force to sail against your stepfather, I would have given it. That was the oath you swore to me. No, I’m sorry that Solvi has taken your sister, but I cannot have my son and my ships chasing him all over the North Sea, with winter coming upon us.”