Islands in the Fog (7 page)

"Have you prepared everything?" he asked Toki as he scanned the assembled guests once more.

"Listen to my answer this time. Yes, I've seen to everything you've said."

Ulfrik shot Toki a scowl. "Have care with your words in public. And I was speaking to the men and the gifts."

"Aye, I was speaking to the same. Just relax, Ulfrik. You're a better man when you're not pretending to be lord of the world."

Ulfrik flinched at the truth of the words. He turned and gave a sheepish look to Runa, who stood silently at his side. She smiled, holding Gunnar who was falling asleep on her shoulder. "Am I that bad?"

"Listen to my brother. He's right for once."

The departure of the guests was as important as their arrival. Ulfrik knew their final impressions would carry long after the event. As such, he arranged for a send-off unlike anything he had ever seen Hardar do. Ulfrik knew he was deliberately outdoing Hardar, and that it was unnecessary. But after Hardar's outburst, Ulfrik wanted to ensure his rival felt humbled.

Ulfrik thought on Runa and Toki's advice, and nodded to himself. "I hate it when Toki is right. Let's see off our guests and return to our lives, eh?"

"Never better words spoken," Toki agreed. Runa nudged Gunnar, who fussed and tried to get comfortable.

Ulfrik called the jarls together, which was also Snorri's signal to march out the men and parting gifts. Ulfrik turned to watch his men, dressed in mail and helmets scoured to a bright finish, file out from behind the hall and down the slope. Snorri led them, two men behind carrying a chest of gifts to bestow upon his fellow jarls.

Surprise rippled through the ranks of the guests. The jarls of the islands had all given gifts upon their arrival, as was customary. But it was unheard of for the host of the summer festival to bestow gifts of his own. The sacrifices and costs of the celebrations were considered enough.

Ulfrik moved down slope, gesturing for Runa and Toki to follow. Gunnar now stood on the grass, staring at the massing of the armored warriors. The jarls were also impressed and left their ships to draw together. Ulfrik saw Hardar and his family hover at the back. His swollen face was pulled into a frown.

"Friends, your company has been most enjoyable. The people of Nye Grenner will ever remember these days. I've prepared some small items for each of you. Tokens to commemorate this year's festival. But also as thanks for the support we have seen from all of you. Many of us are strangers here. You have welcomed us to the lands, and helped us flourish."

Appreciative nods circled around, many men agreeing with the honor shown them. All men seek honor, even if not truly earned. Ulfrik knew he stretched the truth; many of the jarls had never offered help. Some had even ignored him. But those men now smiled and waited to extend their hands for whatever Ulfrik would place in them.

His men formed a semicircle behind him, three ranks deep. He had eighty fighting men, twice the number of any other jarl. They stood with arms clasped behind their backs. Ulfrik wanted a show of force but not one too intimidating. Snorri and his son, Einar, placed the chest beside Ulfrik. He gave an appreciative look to all the gathered jarls, then opened the chest. Some of the less refined men craned to see what had been revealed. Ulfrik smiled and began to call forward each jarl to receive his gift.

Most of the jarls were appreciative. Some lacked fine words, caught by surprise. The gifts were not trifles, Ulfrik having selected pieces from his personal horde. Snorri had warned him not to show too much wealth, fearing it would draw trouble. But Ulfrik felt the eighty men in mail coats counterbalanced it.

He left Hardar for last, both to draw out the suspense and to ensure others would be distracted with their own gifts. But when he called Hardar, many paused to watch the exchange.

Hardar stirred as if he hadn't been paying attention. He looked at his wife, Ingrid, who stared blankly at him. Then he drew a breath and came forward, as if curiosity had stirred him to action. Ulfrik smirked.
This is a worm tearing at your gut
,
Hardar,
he thought.
I bet you can't beat this next year
.

The crowd watched as Hardar lumbered to stand before Ulfrik. He studied Hardar, trying to make his own expression open but cool. There was still the matter of Hardar's accusation, and the required apology. Ulfrik wanted to seem the better man in this conflict.

Hardar's eyes were two gray stones set into fleshy pouches, searching Ulfrik's face and betraying as little of his thoughts as possible. Ulfrik held that gaze, letting the rest of his vision turn to a blur. Hardar shifted, glancing across to Runa and Gunnar at his side. Ulfrik decided he did not like that, though did not understand why. A tiny sneer curled on Hardar's lips, his pug nose making him look like a leering pig. Finally he spoke.

"Your thoughtfulness and generosity are boundless, Lord Ulfrik. Truly you are a credit to your people." He paused, as if waiting for Ulfrik's response. Ulfrik inclined his head, but withheld his words. Hardar shrugged and continued. He raised his voice so others could hear. "I spoke rash words at the feast. Drink clouded my mind, and I was exhausted from our wrestling match. I apologize."

Ulfrik peered at him. Hardar's eyes did not meet his own but ranged about the men behind him. The words were insincere, he did not doubt. But he forced his smile. "Let us put it up to drink and forget unhappy memories."

Many men agreed, though some held their faces cold. Jarl Vermund smiled wickedly, enough to distract Ulfrik a moment. Then Hardar moved in front of him, breaking Ulfrik's sight. "Well said, Jarl Ulfrik."

"Now I have a gift prepared for you." Ulfrik reached into the box and removed a golden cloak pin. Hardar's own pin was only silver, and had two settings of which one had lost its jewel. Men who could see gasped at the value. Even Hardar stepped back in surprise.

"I cannot accept a gift so precious," he said stiffly.

"I'll not hear of it," Ulfrik said. "You are my closest neighbor, and the first in honor among us all. It is only in accordance to you station. Please accept it."

Hardar paused, regarding Ulfrik with a hard stare. Ulfrik suppressed a smile, enjoying the discomfort he inflicted on his rival. To refuse would shame him, and to accept would make reciprocating a great expense. At last he held out his hand to receive the gift. But he whispered as he did. "You haven't bought me, nor the others."

"I buy no man, but win their loyalty through my own merit," Ulfrik replied, matching the whisper.

The two men separated, and a few of the more naive in the crowd clapped. Hardar stepped away with a smile that did nothing more than show his black and yellow teeth. No warmth came from it.

Ulfrik spoke more fine words, and many of the jarls gave their own speeches. But soon the guests set sail. One by one they launched their ships into the gentle waves of the fjord. Oars poked out and dipped into the water. Hardar had the largest ship, and remained the last to depart. He assisted his wife and daughter up the gangplank and followed without a glance back. Once the ship lurched to sea, only his bright-haired daughter came to the stern to wave once more. Ulfrik and Runa both waved back.

"You've done a fine job ensuring you've made an enemy of our closest neighbor," Runa mumbled.

"He's just full of himself. Someone had to wake him up from that daydream. We're the new power in this land, wife."

The men were already breaking up under Snorri's direction. Toki had disappeared and Gunnar begged to be picked up again. Ulfrik smiled at Runa, who tried to smile back.

"That is just what I'm afraid of, Ulfrik. Men covet power."

CHAPTER FIVE

Toki stood upon the black rocks, careful not to slip into the sea. He wore his sword, and carried an unstrung bow and leather quiver of arrows. Otherwise, he dressed in simple clothing and wrapped himself in a gray wool cloak. He leaned forward into the small boat to get his pack of supplies from Bork. The waters of the cove were as calm as Halla's slave had promised. But Bork jostled the boat as he handed over the pack.

"Careful now," Bork said. "Don't want to be wet all day. Nothing dries in this weather."

Toki nodded, snatching his pack. "I'm fine. Count your time carefully, and return here tomorrow."

"I've got five fingers on this hand," Bork said as he held up his left hand. "And four more on this one. Fucking Irish got the fifth one." He wiggled the stump of his index finger and laughed. "So don't ever stay gone more than nine days and I'll always know when to find you."

"Gods strike me dead if you can count that high. Just remember what we planned."

"No one saw us leave, and no one's looking for poor old Bork. You're fine here, and you paid me enough to not know where you went."

"Good. The silver was for using your boat. And you still owe me, Bork."

Bork cackled, his scraggly beard wagging. Then he used an oar to shove back from the rocks. "Isn't my business where you go. I'm your man, and you know it. Have fun with that lass, but be smart."

Toki smiled and waved to his friend, who sat at his oars and rowed out of the cove. Fog roiled as Bork faded to a dark stain, soon vanishing. Toki turned to the black rock face behind him, searching for a way up. He took several frustrating missteps before finding purchase up to the grass. He sat a moment to rest. His body still ached from six hours of rowing.

Like the south, Hardar's lands were rolling plains of grass that tumbled from blunt mountains and ran down to cliffs. Settlements formed in the flats of the coasts. The plains spread out into the fog, making the perfect cover for Toki. The fog would resist the sun for hours. Though he couldn't see far enough to note the landmarks described to him, he knew to travel east and down slope. He stood again and started out. The grass swished at his feet as he walked. The fog made him feel as though he moved on a disk of green hanging in a cloud.

Toki's excitement heightened now that he had come so far. The week had dragged since Halla had left. Every moment he anticipated this meeting, and fretted over keeping it secret. Fortunately, after the festival everyone was wrapped up in their own concerns. He only worried that Halla had changed her mind.
Otherwise
it'll be a long day hiding in a hole
, he mused.

A sheep bleated at him, and Toki leapt back in surprise. Three more resolved out of the dense white. All four looked at him with the dumb expression of all herd animals. Toki had no rapport with animals, not even dogs. These four bleated again and began to run.

Tossing about for a place to hide, he heard more sheep skittering away through the grass. "Odin's balls!" he cursed under his breath. If a shepherd was near he would be discovered in moments. The safest retreat was the way he had come. He jogged along the trampled grass until he judged he had a safe distance. Only birds screeched in the distance, and no sounds of pursuit came. He let his breath run out and restarted his journey.

He searched for the rock outcropping landmark to show him where to turn. Instead he stumbled upon two small shadows in the fog.

Toki's first impulse was to draw his sword. His hand fell to the hilt, but better judgment stayed him. The two shadows stopped, and one voice hissed Toki's name.

"Halla! It's Toki. Thanks be the gods you found me." Stepping into his circle of vision came Halla and her slave, an Irish girl called Dana.

Halla smiled, pausing at the edge of the fog. "You came after all. I waited this morning and didn't find you. I thought you wouldn't show."

"The journey here took longer than I guessed with only two sets of oars."

Halla looked as radiant as he remembered. Her hair was woven into two tight braids hung over her shoulders. She wore a summer dress of green and brown. He noticed the hem of her skirt had been soiled from dragging over the wet grass. Her slave, Dana, looked as though she could have been Halla's sister but for her shorter chin and wider face. She wore a dress of raw cloth, dirty but not tattered, and her hair was cropped short to mark her as a slave.

"Lucky we found you. You're going the wrong way. Homes are just over those rises. I thought I told you to travel down slope?"

"I wasn't going down slope? This fog is more confusing than I thought. But we are together now, and you can show me where we were supposed to meet."

Halla giggled and walked up to Toki. Her closeness quickened his pulse, and her smile led his mind to imagine her laying back in the grass for him. She took his hand into her cool, smooth grip. "I'll be glad to show you. Dana, follow us but not too closely please."

Toki ignored the slave, and simply stared at the young beauty holding his hand. She started forward, giving him a gentle tug. He followed, anxious to get to Halla's secret location.

They traveled in silence until Toki saw the standing stone he had searched for earlier. No runes marked it. It appeared out of the fog like a giant sentinel in a lichen vest. They both stopped in the weak shadow of the stone. "What is its purpose?" he asked.

"No one knows. It was here before my family. Maybe the Irish monks placed it. Or maybe giants."

"Giants more likely. The monks are still here and would've told you about this old stone."

They moved on in companionable silence, then arrived at the secret place Halla had described. She had not overstated the beauty of it. A slender path folded down into a steep drop. Peering through the fog, Toki saw a large basin shimmering with seawater. He guessed an underground cavern fed it. The water lapped a thin strip of sand that yielded to lush emerald grass. As they descended the path, the earth rose around them. Once at the bottom, the air was cool and smelled of sea salt. Toki imagined he was at the bottom of a gigantic well.

"My brother showed me this place when I was a small girl. I've never forgotten it, and come here often."

"Your brother?"

"Dead many years. A fever."

Toki gave a curt nod. "So you came here earlier and didn't find me? I admit that I hadn't expected you to come."