The talk of renewed war drew sour looks and damped the celebration. Ulfrik regretted his poor timing. "But tonight we will feast and celebrate victory! Already my wife is preparing the evening meal, a last feast before winter visits us again."
Cheers renewed and a positive murmur rippled through the crowds. Ulfrik dismissed them to their duties, though he still had a few matters to settle. Before his own hirdmen departed, he called Thrand the Looker to him.
Thrand plodded to him like he carried a stone over his back. White sea salt stained his clothing and when he drew near mead stench flowed from his mouth. Ulfrik felt the pang of guilt at his appearance. Even Thrand's good eye did not meet his.
"Thrand, Njall's death was noble and brave. He is with Odin now, feasting and fighting and drinking."
"Noble? He pitched into the ocean and drowned. He's in Rán's Bed now."
Ulfrik bowed his head to the stubborn sorrow. He wanted to do more for Thrand, who had lost the last of his family while protecting Ulfrik's. But such was the duty of sworn men, and while a good lord tries to avoid it, Fate often had other designs. Ulfrik gestured to Snorri, who passed him a heavy leather purse.
"This is Njall's blood price, and more for your service to me. I will not forget it, Thrand. This gold is not enough for what you did."
Thrand regarded the proffered purse, then shook his head. "Keep it for rebuilding. You're right, though. It's not enough."
Ulfrik forced the purse at Thrand, but he already turned and stalked away into a lonely field.
The celebration was modest compared to the feasts of days past. Were it not for Gunther's men, Nye Grenner's hall would have been half empty. Many had fled or perished under Hardar's rule. Deaths of hirdmen had further thinned the population. Yet still families gathered to celebrate a return to peace and the memories of the dead. They told stories of Hardar's villainy, cursed his name, and proclaimed Ulfrik a hero. Ulfrik, still unable to stand but healing better than expected, sat at the high table with his leg propped on a bench and raised his drinking horn to every toast. Runa and Gunnar sat beside him.
"Mead dulls the pain," he explained to Runa.
She smiled, placed her hand upon his, then adjusted Gunnar who slept in her lap. "Time for your son to get to bed. You will do what you promised tonight?"
Ulfrik rolled his eyes. "As I promised. I've just been waiting for the right time."
Runa laughed, then stood. Laying sleepy Gunnar over her shoulder, she leaned to kiss Ulfrik's head. He watched her leave for their room. Looking back on the hall, hearth smoke laid white over the drowsy guests. Ingrid and Halla, knitted together since their reunion, still chatted among their drunken hirdmen. Toki, with a long suffering look, caught Ulfrik's gaze and raised his mug to him. Ulfrik laughed. Men who had been enemies only weeks before now shared benches in his hall.
Fate, Ulfrik had decided, was unknowable.
He judged it time to keep his promise to Runa. Gunther One-Eye and his men, valuable as they had been, now burdened him. Winter approached and supplies dwindled. Some murmured the foreigners planned to occupy Nye Grenner.
Gunther had swilled a lake of mead and still appeared unsullied and cogent. Ulfrik beckoned him over, and Gunther left his small group to sit beside him.
"You've held a fine feast for such a small place. Your mead is made for the gods."
Ulfrik laughed politely. "I think you have drank the last of it."
"Then make more." Gunther doubled over in laughter, slapping the table.
"Gunther, I have to speak to you about your men."
"Don't say it. I know. We are leaving tomorrow."
Ulfrik's mouth hung open. "It's not that I'm ungrateful."
"Of course not, but you're poor and we've got all we can from you. You've shown me a good time here. I'm ready for something new."
"I would offer you to stay, but with all the chaos we have not prepared for winter. I'm sure we will meet again, though."
Gunther roared laughter once more. "Plan on it. Hrolf the Ganger is one to keep his men busy. Once that leg is better, you're going back to war."
"War?" Ulfrik sat up straighter. "What are you saying?"
"Give it time. Fill your ships with swords and men, and make ready. You have promised Hrolf to answer his call. And he will call."
Ulfrik swallowed and blinked. Gunther, laughing, rose and slapped Ulfrik's back. He staggered away, finally showing a hint of drunkenness. Ulfrik sat alone at his bench, presiding over the mass of people falling into drunken slumber. He glanced at the door to his room, remembering his oath to never again separate from Runa.
The gods, it seemed, still found him entertaining.
Author's Note
The Faeroe Islands are a grouping of eighteen islands in the middle of the North Atlantic, halfway between Iceland and Norway and northwest of Scotland. A rugged land of cliffs and emerald fields, the islands would make a good setting for a fantasy world. Proximity to the Arctic Circle means daylight varies by season. For two months of summer the sun never completely sets, and in winter the sun barely creeps over the horizon. Temperatures are surprisingly mild for such a northern climate, thanks to the Gulf Stream. The original settlers must have felt they had arrived in another world.
Norwegians settled the islands in the early ninth century, taking residence in the north, though recent evidence suggests Celtic people may have been there earlier. Then as now, sheep outnumbered the human population. In fact, the original name of the islands, Faereyjar, means Sheep Islands. By 900 CE, Vikings were settling in larger numbers. The predation of Harald Finehair is considered the driving force of this migration. After the Battle of Hafrsfjord, Harald's enemies felt safer living somewhere besides Norway, many moving west to the Shetland Islands or Orkney Islands as well as the Faeroe Islands. Again, this view is challenged by some scholars.
The Vikings brought their traditions and social structure with them. Odin, Thor, Freya, and a host of other gods arrived with the settlers, even though Christian Irish monks maintained a monastery on the islands for hundreds of years prior to the Viking arrival. Jarls still ruled their communities, and freemen had voices in public assemblies that met regularly. While survival must have seemed tenuous to them, the Vikings were hardy people and laid down solid roots that exist to this day.
Most of the characters and place-names in this book have no historical counterparts. The exclusions are Kjotve the Rich, who was a leader of the failed alliance against Harald Finehair, and Hrolf the Strider. Hrolf has an interesting history, and while his name is not something every child learns in school, his legacy is well known to many. Since to reveal more would betray too much of Ulfrik's future stories, I will leave it to the industrious reader to research Hrolf on his own.
Hardar Hammerhand was loosely based upon Hafgrim from the Faereyinga Saga, a chronicle of the settlement of the Faeroe Islands. The saga described him as a chief over half the islands, and a quick thinker who lacked in wisdom. I took great liberties with Hafgrim, letting him inspire Hardar's character rather than dictate his story. Hardar is most similar to Hafgrim in the conflicts he had with other settlers. It should be noted that the Faereyinga Saga is not a historical document as much as it is epic story-telling. It is a good resource for inspiration and insight into a group of foggy, remote islands during the Dark Ages.
The size and scope of the conflicts described in this book are grander affairs than what reality must have been. Many conflicts and battles fill the pages of the Faereyinga Saga, but these were mostly fought between individuals or small groups. To the best of my knowledge, no great numbers of Viking age weaponry have been recovered on the Faeroe Islands, suggesting that while men armed themselves, it was not with mail coats and professional armies. However, several caches of Viking treasure have been unearthed. I have chosen to imagine wherever great treasure is found armies will be found as well. Hopefully, readers will have enjoyed reading about larger, more "epic" clashes.
The Vikings have left an
indelible mark on the Faeroe Islands, as they did almost everywhere they settled. Ulfrik has had luck in carving a small part of that history for himself, but he is young and full of dreams. More lies ahead for him.
Two people have been instrumental in the writing of this book. First, I could not have done this without the support and understanding of my wife. Second, I must also thank my father for reading this story and pointing out inconsistencies, problems, and all the other things a writer can't see in his own work. My heartfelt thanks to both of them!
Table of Contents
Title Page
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Author's Note
Islands in the Fog Page 29
