A Sacred Storm

by Theodore Brun

  ‘Swear there was no fooling with them Gotar hall-maids.’

  ‘No hall-maids, I swear,’ he cried.

  ‘Nor anyone else!’

  ‘None at all,’ he lied.

  ‘No kissing, no fleshy fun and games.’ She poked his chest – quite hard, he thought. ‘And absolutely no fucking!’

  For a brief moment he considered whether a blood-crazed giantess trying to drown him with spittle counted as kissing, but, deciding the case in his favour, he was happy to swear. Indeed, he would have sworn away his own mother just then if Bara had demanded it, being rather absorbed by the ample bosom stirring within reach.

  ‘You’ve no idea how I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Oh, you have, have you, pup?’

  ‘Aye – something awful.’

  She cocked a doubtful eyebrow. ‘How much?’

  ‘Let’s see now.’ If there was a girl who enjoyed hearing her own praise more than Bara, he’d yet to meet her. ‘I’ve missed you like a ship-wrecked man longs for the shore-sands, like a northern huntsman longs for the sun, like a—’

  ‘All right, all right.’ She gave a pout and shook out her long hair. For a second, it dazzled Kai like a cascade of fire. ‘So, Kai Askarsson,’ she said with a wicked smile. ‘If you’ve missed me that much, let’s see you prove it.’

  By the time Erlan returned Kai was a spent man and Bara had left with convincing proof of his unswerving devotion. At least by Kai’s reckoning. Although the council had run long into the night, Kai had been too curious to sleep.

  ‘So what’s been decided?’

  ‘You’ve stirred up a real wasp’s nest, I’ll give you that.’

  ‘Is it war?’

  ‘War within the council – aye.’ Erlan went to the table and took a swig from the pitcher. ‘If Sviggar had his way, nothing would be decided.’

  ‘But Harald and his lads are coming. That’s certain!’

  ‘Apparently not,’ Erlan shook his head. ‘The king says the numbers are too vague.’

  ‘What the Hel?’

  ‘You did your best but you couldn’t give him a clear number, could you? Even at Dannerborg. And as for Leithra—’

  ‘Bollocks to the numbers! Surely he accepts the Danes, the Gotars, the Wends – gods, the whole pack of ’em are coming! Fifteen thousand spears, Ringast said!’

  ‘Sviggar reckons it’ll all break up before summer’s done. He thinks with so many different tribes and clans, it’ll split apart like an over-ripe marrow. Especially after what you told him Ringast said.’

  ‘But Ringast promised that Ubbi fella that they would come.’

  ‘Maybe. But he also had fears, didn’t he?’

  ‘Doubts, maybe.’

  ‘Fears, doubts? It’s all the same. The fact is even Ringast reckons their plan may go awry if they delay too long. Sviggar’s nailed himself to that for now. He says if they’ve been delaying since the winter and not yet come, they never will.’

  ‘What about Ormarr’s patrol? And what they did to Gettir the Black?’

  ‘The way he talked, it seemed he thought Ringast had done everyone a favour. He said those twins were worse than a pair of rabid wolves.’

  Kai whistled. ‘I don’t expect old Huldir sees it the same way.’

  ‘Fortunately he’s back in Nairka for now.’ Erlan unfastened his belt and flung it on the table. ‘Anyway, Sigurd took Huldir’s part.’

  ‘Gods, yes! What does he make of it?’

  ‘He’s crowing of course, since everything you reported proves what he’s been saying since the Yuletide.’

  ‘What does he want?’

  ‘War. Same as before. War on Dannerborg. War on Leithra. And the sooner the better, since there’d be more chance of destroying each army before they can unite.’

  ‘Does anyone support him?’

  ‘Vithar. I’d guess Huldir would too if he were here.’

  ‘What about Bodvar?’

  ‘He seems to be the only one Sviggar is willing to listen to.

  He’s not for all-out war like the others but he insists the king orders a full levy and fast – every vassal lord that’s sworn to him – and that Sviggar sends word to his allies. To Finnland and the Western Gotars. Even to the Estlanders.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For men, of course! But Sviggar thinks that will only precipitate war the faster.’

  ‘Well, he’s probably right. But I don’t see how he can avoid it now. Better to be at full strength, surely?’

  ‘Exactly.’ Erlan raked his fingers through his hair. ‘He talks on and on about his realm and what he’s built. It’s as if he feels death’s shadow creeping over him and he’s worried about all he leaves behind. I don’t know. And then he talks about a treaty to preserve it all. He’s clutching at straws.’

  ‘So what we saw at Dannerborg changed absolutely fucking nothing!’

  ‘No. It’s brought urgency, at least. Sviggar knows he must act.’

  ‘By sitting on his arse?’

  ‘Not quite. Bodvar at least persuaded him to increase the levy to include the northern clans. But he still talks about parleying with the Wartooth.’

  ‘He’s crazy! The Wartooth wouldn’t agree to any treaty, would he?’

  ‘Not if what you heard at Dannerborg is true. At least, I don’t think so. But Sviggar is looking for any way out he can find.’

  Kai sighed. This certainly wasn’t the outcome he and Einar had expected. He leaned back against the wall and slung his feet on the table. Then again, things were rarely so black that, if you looked hard, you couldn’t find some glimmer of light. ‘Well, master – it’s not all bad news.’ He couldn’t keep the grin from his face any longer.

  ‘Why, what have you done now?’

  Kai chuckled and grabbed the pitcher. ‘You’ll need a drink for this one, master. For I have a wondrous tale to tell.’

  Queen Saldas glided towards her husband’s chamber smoothly as a cloud across the night sky. But her heart was full of bitter thoughts. She hated being summoned from her sleep by one of Sviggar’s bootlicking servants. Hated even more the prospect of his mottled hands all over her. The contrast between her flawless skin and his gnarled old knuckles, that stump of a thumb prodding at her, the wheeze in his lungs as his shrivelled passion tremored through his body – it was all of it too revolting.

  Of course, her mood had been bad enough since the discovery that there was some kind of passion budding between her bloodless stepdaughter and the stranger. What a fool he must be! A conceited fool. That he should reject her for that... that girl! The experience was not one she had known before, and not one that would ever be repeated.

  But she would see to that in its time. Instead she resigned herself to the unpleasant ritual to come. However, when she arrived at her husband’s chamber, she found he only wanted to talk. His brow was creased with disquiet, the flame-light deepening each wrinkle.

  ‘You summoned me, my lord, and I am here.’

  Sviggar lowered himself between the arms of the ornately carved oak chair beside his bed-closet. He extended his hands to her. ‘Come.’ She took them and smiled. Her eyes were still cold. She could feel it. But with his fading sight, he wouldn’t notice. He never noticed. ‘The goddess Frigg blessed me richly when she gave me you.’

  ‘You flatter me, my lord.’

  ‘You know I do not. Alas, I’m only too conscious of your youthful beauty while I slip further into old age.’

  ‘Long years carry with them wisdom and splendour.’

  ‘Now it’s you who flatters.’ He shook his head. ‘But I didn’t call you here to talk of such things.’

  ‘How may I serve you?’

  He gazed at her fondly. ‘I need your counsel, my love. There are roads before me – I confess, they are shrouded in mist. I know not which to take.’

  ‘I heard the news that came with the Gotar boy. It’s bound to trouble you. It troubles us all.’

  He stroked the back of her hand with his
nub of a thumb. She felt the corners of her mouth tighten. ‘All things come together in this moment. My own fate. The fate of my kingdom.’

  She knelt before him. ‘Unburden yourself. Tell me all that is on your heart.’

  He smiled. ‘We have had our differences, my love, have we not? But I know in your heart you are true to me. My body is tired. I feel the wind of Hel’s breath ever closer, ever colder each day.’

  ‘You are yet strong in mind and body, husband.’

  ‘Not as I was. And I ask myself – have the Norns brought on this threat of war to steer me to the climax of my fate? To meet my doom in battle, to fall beneath the sword of Autha’s son? To ride at last on a Valkyrie’s steed to take my place at the All-Father’s table? It would be a worthy death.’

  ‘It would indeed.’ She sneered inwardly. How men loved to talk like this, yet how little they understood of destiny or how to control it.

  ‘If I thought only of myself, it would be the fate I would choose. But I cannot think of myself alone. A man’s name shines down the generations with more than how he meets his death. His life must amount to more. What he did, what he made... If my heirs are to sit long on this throne, then the kingdom must be preserved.’

  ‘Is a kingdom not best preserved with the sword?’

  ‘Sometimes. But I feel now is not that time. I don’t know why. Call it a king’s intuition. If I can only get Harald to parley... But already it may be too late. Things are moving beyond my control.’

  Saldas rose and turned away, not wanting him to see in her eyes her disdain for this pitiful vulnerability. ‘So you would rather risk your place at the Spear-God’s table over the possible loss of your kingdom?’

  ‘My place in Valhöll is for Odin to decide. He knows the battles I’ve fought and the men I’ve sent to him ahead of me.’

  She smiled to herself. For suddenly she saw it, saw it all, opening up before her like a vast horizon on a glorious new day. Now that it occurred to her, it seemed so beautifully simple, so pitifully easy that she felt almost cheated. ‘I have a way for you.’ She turned back to him. ‘A way you can bind Autha’s line to peace and still spare all you have created from destruction.’

  ‘How?’ In his eagerness, he thrust out his grizzled chin. ‘Speak, my love! Speak!’

  ‘Join your two houses together. Offer Lilla to the Wartooth for his son.’

  The king’s weak eyes searched hers to see if she was in earnest. ‘Give my own daughter to my enemies?’

  ‘You wish to make peace with Harald, no? But if it’s to last it must be sealed with a bond that will not break. Harald has no daughters. Even if he did, Sigurd would fight you over this – we both know how it stands with him. But Lilla... you need only ask and she will obey.’

  Sviggar put his head in his hands, his long fingers pressing his skull till the knuckles turned white. ‘You counsel a hard thing, my love. Doubly hard. To give up my daughter to those who have hated me so long, who even now ready themselves for war against me. And then to crawl to them asking for peace and offering her as terms. It’s shameful. A father shouldn’t play whore-master to his own daughter.’

  ‘You want to stop all this now, don’t you? It’s not just their side. The appetite for war grows every day among your own people. What higher price can be paid for the hand of your daughter than the security of your whole kingdom? Is Lilla not worth so much?’

  ‘Of course she is, but... Such an offer might be taken as desperation. It might encourage them to strike even more decisively with the sword.’

  ‘Well then – what have you lost?’ Her voice rose with impatience. She paused, composing herself. ‘You’re in the same position now. But if they accept, you gain all that you wish for and you bring this feud to an end.’

  ‘What if they play false?’

  ‘Meet them on your terms. Invite them here to wed Lilla and to parley and swear the oaths.’

  ‘They would never come. They would think it a trap.’

  ‘They would come. Or the whole world would know them for cowards.’

  Sviggar worked his fingers at his temples as though he wished this were a problem he could just rub away. ‘Afterwards – if Harald broke his word? I would have sacrificed my daughter for nothing.’

  Gods, the old fool was wearying. ‘Just persuade them to come. Trust me. I will see in their eyes whether betrayal hides in their hearts. And if I do... you must act without mercy. Not one of them will leave these halls alive.’

  ‘Treachery.’

  ‘Not treachery.’ She caressed the lobe of his ear. ‘You offer peace. Only be wise.’

  His gaze drifted, lost in thought for a while. She could almost hear the scales inside his head creaking first one way, then the other, until finally he expelled a long breath.

  ‘Very well,’ he growled. ‘If it will serve this realm, I will give up my daughter. But if you see deceit in their eyes, then the feud shall end. With the Wartooth’s blood.’

  ‘My king.’ Smiling, she took his withered hand and pressed it to her lips. He looked up at her, perhaps thinking how beautiful she was, what a loyal woman he had chosen for his queen. Not knowing that inside her, black scorn writhed like a deformed child, and that with his ‘Very well’ a cry of triumph had sounded in her heart.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  They said she was with the other women in the Weavers’ Hall.

  The morning sunbeams were pouring through the smoke-hole in a cataract of light. A circle of women – wives of thanes and house-karls, freeborn maids with their servants – sat pulling needles, adding touches to their tapestries or embroidered garments. Against the walls, thrall-girls worked their homespun looms.

  Sviggar couldn’t remember the last time he had been in this little hall, though it stood not a hundred paces from his own. Doubtless, his appearance would cause a flutter. But there was a time for a king to summon his subjects, and a time when he must go to them.

  He strode into the pool of light and found himself momentarily blinded. He felt foolish, peering about while his old eyes adjusted, searching the shadows for her face.

  ‘Father?’

  ‘Lilla? Is that you? You’re hiding there in the shade.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ She laughed as she stepped into the light with him. In the shadows, voices twittered.

  ‘I came to find you.’

  ‘You should have sent for me.’

  ‘Can’t a king take a stroll around his own halls?’ He smiled at her. ‘I’m not interrupting, am I?’

  ‘Never! I was only making this. It’s nothing.’ She showed him a piece of linen on which she had embroidered an outline.

  ‘A tree? The Sacred Oak, perhaps?’

  She smiled. ‘Yggdrasil. Nine branches, nine worlds.’

  He took her fingers and kissed them. ‘Delightful.’

  ‘What can I do for you, Father?’

  ‘Take a stroll with me. Would you indulge an old man?’

  She laughed. ‘You’ve been saying that for fifteen years.’

  ‘Well, now at least it’s true.’

  Outside they strolled arm in arm through the meadow behind the Weavers’ Hall. It had rained that morning and the scents off the grass were overpowering. Dragonflies flickered between clusters of cornflowers, flashing in the sun.

  ‘Is something wrong, Father?’

  ‘No, child.’

  ‘You’re fully restored to strength?’

  He gave a hoarse chuckle. ‘I don’t know what “fully” means any more. I still have my head to think and a voice to command. That’s all a king needs.’

  ‘And a father.’

  ‘Hah! Perhaps you’re right.’

  She squeezed his hand.

  ‘Your mother loved this time of the year – when spring was turning to summer.’

  ‘You miss her.’

  ‘Sometimes. But I only need look at you and I see her again.’

  ‘What about Saldas?’

  ‘What of her?’
>
  ‘Does she... make you happy?’

  He sighed. ‘Saldas is a fine woman. Difficult sometimes, true. But yes, if not for these present troubles, I would be happy. She makes me feel younger. At my age, you can’t underestimate that,’ he chuckled. ‘And she has brought fresh life to these halls – the little ones...’

  He saw she understood him. Saw in her eyes such love as he hadn’t felt for a long time. Lilla’s affection was so pure. More than his other children, she seemed an extension of him. His hopes were hers. His will, hers...

  ‘There is something I must ask of you.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘A duty I need you to perform. For my sake, for the sake of this kingdom – which I know is as beloved to you as it is to me.’

  ‘I’ll do anything, Father. I know we all must do what we can. Especially now.’

  ‘News came last night. From Dannerborg.’

  ‘You mean Kai. One of the house-thralls said his report was confused.’

  ‘A house-thrall! Gods, is there no discretion any more? Alas, his report was not so confused. It’s clear a threat is growing beyond the Kolmark far greater than I had imagined. But war may still be averted if I act quickly.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘I plan to make Harald an offer that will end the bad blood between us once and for all.’

  ‘What can I do to help?’

  He took her hands in his. ‘I want you to marry the Wartooth’s son.’

  He watched the colour drain from her cheeks, saw the sinews in her neck tighten. For a second, there was a wildness in her eyes, like the terror of a hind at the hunstman’s horn. Of course, he had expected her to have some reaction, but not one so stark. He touched her face, but she recoiled as if scorched by a firebrand.

  ‘But you can’t mean it...’

  ‘Lilla, have I not always promised that you’re to be the wife of a king?’

  ‘But Ringast is no king!’

  ‘As Harald’s heir, one day he will be.’

  ‘But he’s your enemy, son of your sworn foe. They hate you. Hate all of us.’

  ‘All the more reason it must be done.’

  ‘But... there must be another way. There has to be another way!’