Forged in Ice (Viking Odyssey)

by Ken Hagan

‘Banishment?’

  ‘Three years,’ replies Finn-buna. ‘Three!’

  Hethrun has tried twice to shift Lar’s stepfather from hogging the hearth but Finn stands, his legs apart like a seaman, toasting his back at the kerling's fire. The big man cannot hide a glower on his sun-burnt face. He was never one to suffer fools gladly. My persistent questions, coming sluggish and awkward on parched lips — and from an addled head — have sorely tried his patience. ‘Take it and be grateful, Kregin,’ says he as if the verdict was a gift from his hand. ‘Exile for manslaughter is a three-year stretch — that has been the penalty for as long as I remember — once blood-silver and other dues are paid.’

  ‘And your brother Einar has paid in full,’ says Cuin, ‘he and Sepp have settled the death dues for Mord. From what Finn tells me, Asgrim has accepted a half-share in Einar’s enterprise in Erinland — trading — something to do with regular shipments for the Ostmen of Linn-dubh. It seems that this brother of yours, Kregin, is a wealthy merchant back east.’

  ‘Wealthy and cunning.’ Finn nods his assent. ‘No one pulls wool over my skipper’s eyes. Mind you, you daren’t get on the wrong side of him or there is hell to pay! But you won’t hear me complain. Once I put foot on the Hrafentyr things never looked back for me.’

  ‘Hrafentyr?’ says Cuin, stroking his beard as he rakes through his memory. ‘Wasn’t that once the name of a king’s ship?’

  ‘No,’ replies Finn with a wretch of laughter. ‘Einar Raffson is the sole skipper of Hrafentyr. I am his midshipman. I took charge on the thwarts after his last man drowned in a gale. I take two parts divvy on a ten-man crew from each trading voyage. Not bad, eh?’

  ‘And where is it,’ I ask. ‘Where is the Hrafentyr?’

  ‘Weren’t you listening?’ Finn slaps his chest in rancour. ‘Our ship is at the head of the Os, beached on the sands at Ferry-point-south.’

  ‘How did Einar know to land at Laxvik?’

  ‘He didn’t, Kregin,’ replies Finn. ‘We sailed last week into Long-fiord haven — that is the trading post for wool. But once your brother heard of the goings-on down here, he put us out on the night tide. With a good northerly at our backs we were in the Os by mid-day yesterday.’

  ‘Where is Einar now? Why send you in his place? Why didn’t he come and see me?’

  ‘I dare say;’ Finn scratches his head with some annoyance. ‘I dare say, after he and Sepp had finished their business with Asgrim, the skipper wanted to spend time with his young son and pay his respects to your ma. Your family are gathered at my old steading at Osvik.’

  Cuin takes my arm and speaks with a lump in his throat. ‘I have to confess, lad, I had reached my wit’s end. What with hue and cry from the hounds, and ice-heads camped at our door, Thor help me! I had given up hope.’ Uncle does a dutiful sign of Thor across his chest. ‘And who should turn up with an “order of banishment” and send the bounty-men packing but our old friend Finn-buna? Isn’t he a sight for sore eyes?’

  Finn returns Cuin’s blessing with a hasty gesture. ‘Well Kregin, I am on skipper’s orders! Now that you know how things stand — it is safe to travel — I will go with you as surety — you can make your way to Osvik and look up your brothers.’

  ‘He will do no such thing,’ says Hethrun, finally nudging Finn from the hearth. ‘At least not till he has rested and eaten. And not till young Knara has scrubbed his serk and breeches. He can’t go to his family looking like that!’

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