Agnar settled beside Leif on the bench, holding a half-emptied drink. He craned around the room and leaned in to ask, “I do not see Aiden. Was he given the unfortunate job of tending the sheep?”
From the other side of the hall, Rúni must have caught the name, for he laughed aloud. “Hear this, Brother! I have a tale to tell about Leif’s pet thrall. He was really a woman and a good liar at that, would not you say?”
Leif felt his father’s eyes on him as Ragna said slowly, “An enchantress it seems. Did you know of her secret, my son?”
“She never told me.”
“Would you swear to it?” Ragna’s voice was the only thing to be heard in the hall besides the crackling fire.
Leif swallowed, feeling trapped. He was honor-bound to speak the truth. Eilish never did tell him her secret because he’d found her out instead. He knew his father was watching him carefully, and so was every other soul in the longhouse.
At that moment his friend risked angering Ragna by interrupting. “Where is this woman you speak of?”
Agnar looked between Rúni and Leif, waiting for an answer. Luckily, the question seemed to distract Ragna from pressuring his son, and he glanced at his brother. “Já, where is the enchantress? Bring her to me.”
Rúni seemed annoyed that his story had been rushed, and that he hadn’t gotten the opportunity to tell the tale like it should be—with sound effects reenacting the noises Aiden made when sinking to the goddess’s awaiting arms at the bottom of the sea. “I cannot, for Ran has already dragged her down to Ægir. I have never seen such a thing—she fell into the water and sank like an anchor. There was never a soul so unfit to sail as she.”
Ragna’s eyes lingered on Leif as Rúni started back at the beginning, clearly having decided that he would tell the tale in full detail since he had everyone’s rapt attention. When the elder man reached the end of his story, having described the fish that had slapped his cheek when he’d pulled it from the ocean following Aiden’s watery death, he concluded that it had been dispatched from Ran for sending such a wicked enchantress down to her halls. This brought a smile to Ragna’s lips, and he joined in his brother’s laughter.
The longhouse filled with the rumble of side conversations, and most had forgotten the tension between father and son. Agnar adjusted on his place on the bench and muttered to Leif, “I am sorry to hear of his passing—woman or not. I liked him and not just for healing my wound.”
His friend gestured to his forearm, the place that had been marked by a deep cut, which now only showed trace of a faint pink line. Leif nodded and simply said, “Já. It is unfortunate she was allowed to drown.”
Agnar seemed to observe his friend’s reservation to speak on the subject and said no more, casting a quick glance toward Ragna before quieting down.
The night went by excruciatingly slow. Leif remained silent, for he was absorbed entirely in his own thoughts. His mind busily toiled over the many possible outcomes of his plan. He worried about the safety of Eilish and Agnar and knew the sooner they could get off the island, the better. The challenge would be convincing his friend to leave.
He barely caught any sleep, and by morning he was ready to leave the longhouse with Agnar to find some privacy so they could talk. Leif didn’t have to say a word, as his distress must have been as apparent as a storm cloud swirling above his head. His friend followed him out beyond the crops to a hill overlooking the farm and folded his arms. “What is bothering you? You are more unhappy than usual.”
Leif glanced at Agnar, uncertain how to start. “You know me well. It is true, I have not been myself.”
His friend’s brow furrowed as he waited to hear more. There was nothing they kept from each other. Nothing of importance.
Leif glanced around, making sure no thralls had strayed from the farm and muttered, “It is Aiden.”
Agnar’s eyes narrowed as he listened. It was clear he was trying to discern what was meant by the admission, so Leif hurried to say more. “A day had not passed after we left Duiblinn before I discovered her secret.”
“I knew you were keeping something from me.” Agnar breathed out.
“Eilish was disguised by her father from the raiders who took her. Hidden as a young man.”
His friend rubbed his jaw before he spoke again. “Is this why you asked me to look after him? Ah, her?”
“Já.” Leif took a breath and said, “This is why I ask you to continue watching out for her.”
“Do you ask me to follow her to Helgafjell, to protect her in the afterlife?” Agnar frowned.
Leif shook his head and leaned closer to whisper, “She has not truly passed. We convinced Rúni he saw her drown, but she is safe, hiding in our cove.”
“Has she enchanted you to take such a risk?”
The gulls interrupted Leif’s silence with loud cries from the sky. Women were said to hold such powers over men, but he was certain no magic had been used on him. It had been his idea to free her from the start, not hers. It was his heart that made him act as he had. He shook his head. “Love is an enchantment. Think of Frigg—how you have worked to save enough for her bride price. I would do all that I can to keep Eilish safe from harm. You know what would happen to her if she stays—if she is found out.”
It was now Agnar’s turn to remain silent as he thought about it. “You are my brother, I would do anything for you. What do you ask of me?”
He’d arrived at the hardest part. Leif took a deep breath and stared out at the ocean horizon in the distance. “This is our eighth season with Ragna. Summers pass, and he amasses more and more wealth—all this to gain entry into Ægir’s halls. Yet he has received no sign from the gods—and why would they notice such an ill-reputed man? My father is willing to pay any price to fulfill his quest, but I am not. It is time for you to leave my side, settle down with Frigg and tend your own the farm in some distant land. Far from Ragna’s greed.”
Agnar’s cheeks lifted into one of his humorous grins as he chuckled at his friend. He pointed at him and muttered, “You are joking at my expense or you must be suffering from madness. My brother would never ask this of me.”
“I am not one to joke, though you are right, I might be mad.” Frustration boiled in his gut, and Leif spat. “I am angry my father steals without honor and left my mother to die alone! I will not let him hurt the ones I care for.”
His friend’s amusement slid from his face as he observed Leif’s mood. He glanced down at the farmstead nestled in the grassy valley. “I would not leave you to deal with him alone.”
“He is mine alone to deal with,” Leif answered. “Go to Frigg and go far away from here in search of your own land. I ask you take Eilish with you. Help to find her father east of Austmarr in the land of the Brus. I will send you both with enough silver so you will never want for anything.”
“You are decided?” Agnar asked slowly.
“I am,” Leif answered.
“I cannot convince you to come with us?”
Leif was reminded of the same pleas spoken from Eilish’s lips, and he shook his head. “You remember what happened last time I strayed too far. I would not endanger either of you. Though I know I already ask much of you, there is one more thing I request.”
Agnar turned his wary eyes to Leif, wordlessly waiting for his friend to speak. Leif sighed before continuing. “I fear she will not leave without me.”
“Shall I bind her if she protests?” Agnar frowned, not appearing to like the idea.
“I do not wish her any further distress.” Leif shook his head. “Tell her I am not far behind, that I will meet you on the mainland once I get free.”
“You ask me to lie.”
The heaviness in Leif’s chest only deepened. “If I ever get free of Ragna, I vow I will seek you both. It is no untruth.”
“Then I hope that fate comes to meet us.” His friend took a moment before asking, “When do you bid me to leave?”
“Tonight,” Leif said. “She is expecting
you. The weather will not be at your back much longer. Slip away with the cover of darkness so you may shove off at first light. Get to the mainland and travel with high winds to Bo’s land. I have stowed a haul of silver on the boat that you may lock in your trunk.”
Agnar’s expression was solemn, and he seemed to be having a hard time looking at him. He puffed up his chest and stepped toward Leif. He lifted the sleeve of his tunic to expose a twisted metal ring and pulled it from his upper arm. Agnar gripped it with both hands as he said, “I vow to protect Eilish and keep her under my protection, for I am honor-bound to you as a brother.”
Agnar slipped his arm ring back onto his bicep in time for Leif to pull him in, gripping his forearm and placing his brow to his friend’s. Leif clapped his shoulder tight and said in return, “I will miss you, my brother.”
“I expect you will,” Agnar laughed. “My wit is what keeps you from madness.”
Leif said with a heavy heart, “It is.”
They stood on the highlands for a bit longer simply staring across to the eastern shores, which were a faint gray line over the ocean horizon. The constant ocean breeze tousled their hair about their faces until Agnar muttered, “Well, your father will be divvying up our shares and preparing his sacrifice to Ægir. It would be unwise to miss it.”
“Indeed.”
The two friends returned to the farm, where the freemen who’d joined Ragna on his summer viking had gathered around him, waiting for their share. Rúni, Sten and Oddmund were clearly pleased when they received their portion. Agnar forced a smile when he was given his, to which Ragna’s response was laughter. “There is the face of a man who knows no amount of silver could buy him a wife.”
The others chuckled in amusement, and Agnar just nodded in agreement. Leif watched, imagining what it would feel like to stand up to his father. What it would feel like to wipe Ragna’s arrogant grin from his face. Picturing it was as close as he could come for now with his friend so close to his departure.
“Tomorrow I make my sacrifice to Ægir. He should be pleased with my gifts to him. It is unfortunate your stray slipped beneath the waves before he could be offered in tribute,” Ragna said to his son. He seemed to be searching for a trace of anger or defiance in Leif’s expression. He then looked about at the thralls standing along the outskirts and pointed at Cormacc and Ronan. “Those will do. Ran will not have to cast a wide net to pull them under. The gods should be satisfied with the seafaring ship, my cache of silver and gold, and those useless souls. I can feel it in my bones—my kin will lead me home to sit upon their thrones.”
“I feel it too,” Leif answered, wanting his father to stop talking.
Ragna shouted at Màiri as he returned to the longhouse. “I wish to be filled with mead!”
Unlike the prior evening when time moved slowly for Leif, the day sped by faster than he was prepared for. The feasting had continued until darkness consumed the land. All fell quiet, except for the snores vibrating through the hall and the embers cracking in the hearth. Leif sat awake, watching his friend gather his belongings and stand with his spear in the entry room.
He did not wish to say goodbye to a man he had known since boyhood. Leif held up his hand—a parting sign. Agnar bowed his head, clutched his trunk against his side and let himself from the dank confines of the longhouse for the last time.
Leif may have found it difficult to sleep the night before, but that was nothing to the moments following his friend’s departure. He stared through the smoky haze at the slumped bodies hunched along the benches lining the length of the hall. His father, uncle and cousins meant less to him collectively than the one person he wished he could bring back from the grave, his mother. And none of them had listened to his pleas when he had begged to return for her. He always suspected Ragna did it to pain him and out of twisted jealousy.
It gave him some solace knowing Agnar and Eilish would soon be far from his father, though it left him numb inside. He was truly alone in his struggles. He imagined his heart, drained of color and hardened like the black stone spires that scattered the beaches along the island. That was what he was left with, what he deserved for not being able to stand up for himself. For continuing to help Ragna when his existence was a pestilence to humankind.
He clenched his fists so tight it hurt. The beginnings of the day had come, and twilight peered in through the smoke hole in the sod roof. He heard the near constant cries from seabirds and the livestock bleating and calling across the meadow. The thralls began to rise and stretch the stiffness from their achy joints. Màiri went to the hearth to get the cooking fire started as Ragna got up with a yawn.
“Give the sacrificial thralls some ale to ease their minds,” his father said to Leif when he saw he was awake. “We want them greeted by Ægir and Ran without a fight.”
Leif glanced at Cormacc and Ronan, who were oblivious to the fact that this would be their last day on Earth. He sighed and sat upright, pausing with his hands on his knees, trying to will himself onto his feet. Without his friend, and knowing Agnar would never return, his temperament had changed significantly. He couldn’t normally be described as jubilant or even mild-mannered, but in that moment he was more sour than month-old milk left in the sun.
His slow response caught his father’s attention. “Get moving, boy. The gods are waiting for their sacrifice, and I do not wish to disappoint.”
Leif stared at his father, a man who appeared more like a brother on the surface, his youth deceiving. He wondered how old he truly was, for he did not believe the words that flowed from Ragna’s lips. In fact, Leif believed just as firmly the opposite of his father’s conviction he would be accepted into Ægir’s halls. He believed in his soul that no god would bring favor or luck to a dishonorable man, no matter how much gold and silver were paid in tribute.
“You already have,” Leif said under his breath.
“What did you say?” Ragna growled at him. “You best get everything prepared before I get angry.”
Leif shook his head and went outside. Sunlight touched the grassy hills, though he smelled a storm on the horizon. He was relieved, knowing Agnar and Eilish would be sailing toward the mainland. Free.
He gestured at Cormacc and Ronan to follow him, and he led them back into the longhouse, where two cups of mead were waiting for them. They seemed unsure when Ragna sloshed the drinks against their chests and laughed. “For you! Drink until you find it empty, then there will be more waiting for you.”
But like most men would, they accepted the golden liquid and continued to drink from their never-empty cups, losing their hesitancy after the first mouthful. It did not take long before they swayed on their feet with drooping eyes and smiles upon their faces.
“Load the treasure on the ship!” Ragna called to Oddmund, Sten and Rúni. “It is time I pay tribute.”
The thralls that had been with them longer than a season stayed clear. Leif watched his kin grunt as they lifted the chest filled with treasure and valuables and made their way to the door. His father said to him, “Make sure those two get on board without drowning before we are ready.”
Leif didn’t answer. He only nodded and led the stumbling thralls out of the longhouse and into the morning winds. It took much patience and redirection to get Cormacc and Ronan out to the landing beach where the Kraken sat beside the trading ship they’d sailed home on. Oddmund and Sten were just jumping onto the rocky shore, having deposited the treasure in the cargo hold. Rúni stood on the bow and caressed the gunwale while he muttered, “It is a shame to see another beautiful ship lost to the sea.”
Oddmund agreed with his father. “The sail and nails alone are worth—”
Ragna strode onto the beach and interrupted. “That which we value the gods will value as well. I wish you could join us to witness the moment the vessel is consumed, but that would be the death of you.”
Leif’s father grinned at his nephews, ignoring them as they backed away. Rúni joined them on the rocky shore to try to h
elp the intoxicated thralls over the edge. It couldn’t be done without Leif’s added efforts, though he tried to avoid facing into them since their breath smelled of spoiled mead.
Once the unfree servants were safely on board, the men on shore pushed the vessel farther into the water. Ragna broke away to shed his clothing, standing naked with his face to the wind. He breathed in deeply before pulling himself onto the ship.
Leif stood beside his cousins, watching the boat begin to drift away from shore when his father shouted, “Better hurry up, boy!”
He wished he could have turned around and walked away like his kin would do in the moments following Ragna’s departure. He wished he weren’t required to help his father make his tribute. He wished so many things.
Leif quickly shed his clothing, knowing his belongings would be lost to him if he didn’t, and hurried through the shallows to pull himself on board as the ship floated away. He watched his cousins and uncle wave before turning away from the beach. Leif took a long, slow breath and glanced at the thralls, who had stumbled over the deck and into the cargo hold and were not aware of the naked men taking them to their deaths.
“Get the oars,” Ragna ordered as he made his way to the stern.
So used to following his father’s orders, Leif pulled out two long oars and met his father at the back of the boat. In years past he’d thought of this moment as grit in the wound. If he could muscle through it, a few seasons would pass before he’d have to reopen the torment again. It was the storm before the calm.
Side by side, Leif and Ragna slowly rowed the large vessel through the channel, into the loch and toward the inlet leading out to the sea. Scattered along the coast and around the bay north of their home, numerous wooden skeletons lined the ocean floor. It was the burial place for a number of thralls and countless precious treasures, all given in Ægir’s name.
While the currents grabbed hold of their ship and began to rock it, the sound of Cormacc getting sick in the hold met Leif’s ears. Ragna turned to look at the thrall and called to Leif, “It is time to prepare them for their fates.”
Tides (Time of Myths: Shapeshifter Sagas Book 3) Page 17
