Fate's Needle

by Jerry Autieri

  But nothing felt changed. He imagined he heard Aud chuckle. Sinking to the ground, his back to the wall, Grim knew that tomorrow would sail him to his doom.

  Thirty-two

  When Runa was a child, she had fallen into a pond while stretching to catch a dragonfly. She remembered the cold slap of the water embracing her, the muffled bubbling of air rushing from her mouth, and the stark terror of death enveloping her. Then her brother had snatched her from the water’s frigid embrace, and she had lived. She felt the same way now.

  The fall from the sledge evoked the same horror, the same muffled struggle to breathe, the same coldness surrounded her as she floated in blackness. But this time, it was Ulfrik pulling her back to the world.

  She had landed on her stomach and passed out. When she came to, it was to deliver her baby. It had been a boy after all, but he was dead. The delivery was a jumbled mess of memories and unfamiliar faces hovering over her. Only Ulfrik’s worried face appeared once. He had spoken soothing words to her, although she couldn’t recall what he had said. She felt it best that she didn’t remember too much. She had been delusional, sure she had seen the faces of family members, and of Toki.

  Runa lay on a timber bed that was thick with furs and blankets. She couldn’t remember the last time she had experienced such luxury. It was Ulfrik’s bed—she remembered that much. The room was small, unadorned, and still smelled of fresh timber, which creaked and popped as the structure settled. An older woman named Gerdie cared for her and insisted that Runa remain in bed for at least a week and eat only special broths. Runa did not protest. She had spent the past few days in comfortable silence, mostly asleep, weary with grief.

  The sun began to peep through the window and roosters announced the new day. Within moments, the door opened. She had expected Gerdie to deliver her soup. Instead, Ulfrik carried the bowl inside.

  He held the bowl of steaming soup carefully in both hands, and closed the door with his foot. Before the door shut fully, Runa glimpsed men gathering at the tables in the main hall. Ulfrik’s hall was modest enough to not even have rooms separating the main hall.

  “Gerdie says you are now strong enough to talk to me.”

  “That’s true.” The words sounded foolish to her. She had been well enough since yesterday, and had been dreaming up the right things to say. Runa did not want to gush, nor to sound ungrateful. She sat up to receive the bowl, smiling dumbly at him and taking comfort in the knowledge that he didn’t know what to say either.

  Ulfrik handed the bowl to her, sat on Gerdie’s stool, and smiled. To break the awkward moment, Runa sipped the bland broth.

  “Runa, there’s so much to say, but I don’t know how to begin. I’ve never found the right words when it comes to you.”

  “I’ll agree to that.” She refrained from jabbing him a little harder. Part of her wanted to punish him for all she had suffered, for the nightmare of the past nine months. But one look at his pained expressions stopped her. “But my tongue has grown wooden too. I’ve had no practice with fine words these days.”

  Ulfrik lowered his head. More silence passed as Runa continued to sip from the bowl. Finally, he looked her in the eye. “I am sorry about the baby. I wish I could have saved both of you. I know he might have been my son.”

  “I doubt that,” she lied. “Bard raped me so many times in those first days. Your seed never had a chance. Do not worry for me. I was not attached to the thought of that child, especially if it was his.”

  “But it was half of you. And that is still precious to me.”

  Runa suddenly felt the surge of emotion she had been keeping at bay. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Well, you’re beginning to find some right words.”

  Ulfrik removed the bowl and embraced her. How long had it been since she was last held with love and tenderness? How long since anyone wanted her as a person? She stiffened, not remembering how to respond, and then softened and began to weep. Tears for the pain of losing her son, the joy of reunion with her lover, and the glorious satisfaction of being freed from slavery.

  Her hand reflexively searched for her slave collar but felt only bare flesh. Pulling away, she looked into Ulfrik’s eyes, astonished. She had not even realized the collar had been removed.

  “It was the first thing I did once I knew you were safe.” Ulfrik said, his own tears gathering. “You will stand at my side as a free woman, if you will agree to stand with me.”

  “I said I would, and I will.” Runa’s tears turned to laughter, exuberant laughter at the removal of the last vestige of her slavery.

  Ulfrik’s laugh joined hers as he gathered her again into his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder, allowing herself to experience the sense of safety, the myriad happy feelings. But still there was an undercurrent of uncertainty, as if Ulfrik wanted to pull away but was hesitant.

  She pushed herself back instead and said, “You want to say something. There’s bad news.”

  “Not bad news, but news that is hard to explain.” He separated from her, sitting again on the stool. “I think you will find it good news.”

  “You’re wrapping fish bones in fine cloth. Don’t patronize me.” She straightened her back, felt a twinge of pain from it, and grimaced. Ulfrik seemed to be appraising her, and she wanted him to see her pride. I have to set the pace for this man from day one, she thought. He must deal honestly with me or not at all.

  “I’m not patronizing. I just don’t know how to do this so I will let it be. Fate has drawn you all to me in this place. I will trust in Fate’s plan. What else can I do?” He stood and shrugged. Despite his smile, Runa felt the security she had just experienced draining away. “One thing you could do is to get this over with. Please, Ulfrik, you’re frightening me.”

  “Don’t be frightened. What comes through this door next is not a ghost.”

  ***

  “Toki!” Runa screamed his name, and then a second time. She tried to leap from the bed, but her soreness pulled her up short. Toki spared her the pain and dashed to his sister, sweeping her into a hug.

  The two embraced and sobbed together, shuddering tears of joy and pain. All the death and loss never grieved, all the hopes and dreams never fulfilled, the multitude of feelings welled up and spilled out. Runa had already wrung herself out with Ulfrik, and now Toki’s appearance placed her on the verge of collapse.

  She could barely keep her swollen, weeping eyes open. As she rocked in Toki’s embrace, she saw, through a watery film, Ulfrik standing in front of the closed door and smiling.

  “Don’t excite her! She needs rest!” She heard Gerdie protest from outside. Runa closed her eyes again, inhaling the scent of her brother, thinking she did not need rest: she needed this.

  “I never thought to see you alive,” Toki said. “I swear I counted the bodies.”

  Runa shook her head, not knowing what to say. “I could say the same for you, Brother, but we are reunited. Fate is as often kind as it is cruel. Father always said that. Do you remember?”

  She felt Toki nod and his grip tightened. “We are a family again, no longer alone in the world.”

  ***

  Runa’s physical recovery astonished Gerdie, but Runa had endured far worse than comfortable beds and hot meals. All up, she had spent a week in Ulfrik’s room while he slept on the floor in the hall. Gerdie had slept with her, and cried in the night, weeping for her husband who would never return from the battle at Frodi’s hall.

  This morning, Runa rose with the dawn, moving slowly and without help. The hall was already busy with people. Snorri and Yngvar seemed to pass all their time drinking in the hall, she noticed. She felt the men treated her nicer now that she was freed, although Yngvar seemed to harbor some reservations. He had befriended Toki, and the two apparently had much in common; Runa couldn’t see what.

  She wandered outside where she found Ulfrik and her brother with several men. Their voices were low and grave. Spotting her, Ulfrik excused himself to join her.

  “Y
ou look radiant. How do you feel?”

  “Ready for you to return to your bed. Gerdie can move out.”

  They drew together and kissed, then Ulfrik took her arm and guided her down the slope toward the beach. “Gerdie’s husband was a brave man, and probably saved his family a great deal of suffering. Nothing is left of Frodi’s holdings. All the people there are dead or enslaved.”

  Runa trembled at the memory. “I think she has been keeping me over-long in my bed. She misses her husband.”

  “Caring for you has given her purpose. Her son is fiercely independent and won’t indulge his mother’s tears. He is much like his father, Rolf, was.”

  They arrived at the beach, the gentle gray sea unfurled at their feet. Neither spoke for a long while, but Runa could guess that Ulfrik had more news. The great alliance of jarls was all anyone spoke of, even Toki seemed eager to join in the plunder. She listened to the rhythm of the waves, and waited. Ulfrik finally started the conversation, moving his arm over her shoulder.

  “I was so close to Grenner that night. I wanted to keep pushing, especially once you were safe aboard ship. But I could not let you wake in such a dangerous place.”

  Runa nodded and slipped her arm around his waist to demonstrate her appreciation. “From what I know, Grenner is gone,” she said softly, not relishing having to deliver the news. She understood what it meant to have ancestral homelands razed; this would be another common thread that bound them together. “After your brother’s failure, Vandrad killed all the hirdmen’s families, destroyed all their homes, even burned down your father’s hall.”

  “What? Are you sure?” Ulfrik withdrew his arm, spinning to face her. “What about Grim?”

  “I’m sure. I served in Frodi’s hall and heard all sorts of news. Your brother went north to serve Harald Finehair. I heard he has done well for himself, that he stands with the king.”

  Ulfrik folded his arms and stared out to sea. “He serves Harald Finehair,” he repeated, seeming to speak to no one.

  “You think you will meet him when you sail north to attack?”

  “How do you know of the attack?”

  “Even the mice here have heard of the attack. When will you all sail off to glory?

  “Very soon, in fact.” Ulfrik appeared to relax, lightly touching her shoulder. “Messengers from Kjotve’s hall arrived just when you came. The call is going out to gather the men. We will sail within two days.”

  “I am ready to leave today.” Runa smiled at him, already hearing the protests in her mind.

  Ulfrik did not disappoint. “You will remain here, where it is safe. There’s no place on the battlefield for you.”

  “I was not asking your permission, simply letting you know I am prepared. You have no choice in where I go.”

  “Runa.” Ulfrik dropped his head in frustration and then pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have just lost a child. And I have to focus on a battle, and not on protecting you.”

  “I’ll stay on the ship, of course. I wasn’t planning on holding your shield for you. But you will need a woman to cook, and to help with the wounded.”

  Ulfrik still shook his head in refusal. “I cannot risk you.”

  “Nor I you. I’ve come how far with you? That sword at your hip returned to you from whose hands? I am coming with you. Only two people matter to me in the world. I won’t watch them jump aboard a ship and leave me among strangers.”

  Runa felt a tear on her cheek and swiped at it in frustration. She had never cried so much, and hated to show such weakness. Ulfrik’s face held no expression. He reached out and wiped away another tear with his thumb. Then he kissed her forehead. “You must do what I say and keep yourself safe. I cannot rebuild Grenner without you to give me strength.”

  “Then why go at all? Why not sail away, take all these people and find a new land?”

  “Because I am sworn to Thor and Kjotve. If they command me to join them, I must.”

  “Come on, they would not have time to search for you if you sailed off. Why bother with this at all? This place belongs to Kjotve still, not you.”

  He pulled away from her and strode into the surf. Runa watched him thinking as the breeze tossed his hair. She wanted to approach, but felt he needed space to make his answer.

  He eventually replied, “Because I have to know, Runa. It’s the last thread that Fate dangles before me. I have to know that Grim comes to justice. I failed to bring justice once. The second time, I was a coward, hoping to not meet my brother in battle. But now, I feel Fate leaning on me. I have to make this journey and fight this battle. I must be the agent of vengeance, for my father and for Magnus, and of honor for my men. Then, it will be done, one way or the other. Grim will fall when his king falls. Then can I begin again with only peace in my heart; but not until.”

  Runa suddenly felt the chill in the morning air, but the shiver that ran through her was not from the cold.

  Thirty-three

  The Wave Spear led Raven’s Talon on the western flank of Jarl Kjotve’s fleet. Ulfrik manned the rudder as his men rowed. Dolphins stitched through the waters. Ulfrik waved to Toki, aboard Raven’s Talon, signaling him to pull closer to the main group of ships. Evening was approaching and they would soon put ashore in Rogaland, where Jarl Kjotve planned to meet Jarl Sulke’s force. They planned to gather allies as they sailed north, growing the size of their assault fleet on the way. Then the entire force of allied Jarls and their men would deploy to Trondelag and strike Harald’s center of influence. The so-called true leader of the alliance was King Eirik of Hordaland. Coming from the north, and having the greatest threat from Harald’s nearby military, he had waited for news of the fleet from the south. Only when he received it did he dare join the force, bringing with him eight large warships bristling with men. In total, the fleet numbered thirty ships, each filled with fighting men. No jarl wanted to be left out of the chance to pick over the spoils of Harald Finehair’s treasure hold.

  Ulfrik had never navigated those coasts and fjords before. He hoped the fleet would be able to achieve surprise. His ships were small compared to those of the other hersir who served Thor and Kjotve, so they took the flanks and watched for signs of the enemy, or were used to chase down fishermen who might sail ahead to warn of the fleet’s advance. Ulfrik did not mind the menial duty. The real fight would happen on land, where he and his men would have a better chance at glory.

  As Ulfrik leaned into the rudder, he considered the strong backs of the men before him, and wondered if he was leading them to their doom. Jarl Kjotve and Thor’s plans seemed too simple to succeed. They planned to sail into Harald’s homeland and destroy the king and his army. Ulfrik had not yet seen the final size of their army, but he wondered if it would be sufficient to overthrow a man who had won power through guile, politics, and conquest. In order for them to win, the gods would need to be on their side. Certainly, both Kjotve and Thor made enough sacrifices of cattle and wealth to buy some attention, but wouldn’t Harald be doing the same? And Harald had far more wealth and fame to offer.

  Salty air filled his nose as the wind nudged the ships toward the coast. Ulfrik also doubted his own decisions. Runa had insisted on accompanying him. The men felt having a woman to cook and tend to the wounded was a good idea, and Ulfrik conceded it made sense. But he feared for her safety. She sat quietly on a chest, wrapped in a blanket and smiling with the wind in her face. Maybe she doesn’t understand the uncertainty of the battlefield, he worried. If this adventure fails, she will again become a slave. And I will be dead and unable to save her.

  He pushed the thought away and started a song.

  ***

  After several days of sailing, Ulfrik was uneasy about the quality of ships and the men the alliance had assembled. When he said as much to Thor one night, he received a cuff on the head for it. Neither Jarl Kjotve nor Thor wanted to hear of anything besides victory. King Sulke and his brother Sote were of a similar mind, although their ships and men were clearly inferior to
the others. At least Eirik’s men appeared competent and their boats in good repair, which gave Ulfrik some confidence as they closed the distance to Trondelag. Yngvar and Toki shared Ulfrik’s view, but all learned not to voice their opinions. “If they keep toasting their future victories every night, we will have nothing left to celebrate when we burn Trondheim,” Yngvar quipped.

  The day was bright, and King Eirik’s ship set the pace of the fleet. Ulfrik did not know where they were being led, but Jarl Kjotve had assigned him a man named Ari, who knew the way. Ari was gnarled and stubborn from years at sea, resembling a twisted old root. He did not row, but stayed with Ulfrik to guide him. A command signal was making its way from boat to boat. From Toki, aboard the Raven’s Talon, Ulfrik received the signal to head east.

  “Where are we sailing?” Ulfrik asked Ari.

  The old man scanned the distant blur of islands, reading them like rune stones. Then he spat overboard and scratched the back of his head. “Looks like Hafrsfjord.”

  Ulfrik had not heard of it but trusted it was just one more fjord on the way to Trondelag. He hauled he ship around and the oars dipped and splashed as Wave Spear followed the fleet.

  ***

  “Row harder!” Ulfrik commanded as he steered the ship toward Raven’s Talon. He had not yet seen the enemy ships, being on the far western wing of the fleet, but the frantic orders were clear. Hostile ships had struck from behind an island, catching the rear of the allied eastern flanks. His men were straining to see, and to row, and like Ulfrik they could see nothing from this vantage point.

  “What can you see from there?” Yngvar, impatient as always, yelled for Ulfrik to be his eyes. “Raiders, do you think?”

  Ulfrik did not hold out the lame hope of a raiding ambush. A fleet of thirty warships, all teeming with men, spears, and bows, would cause pirates to flee, not to attack. Harald’s men had ambushed them. He had no doubt.