Fury of the Northmen

Prologue

The axe hurtled end-over-end and sank deeply into the red-stained oak.

Three kills, announced the contest overseer. Stagg Sigurdsson wins.

Stagg nodded graciously to his beaten competitor, Thraìnn, whose smug look was wiped away by Stagg’s sure aim. Thraìnn stormed off without a word.

I can’t believe he hit all three at that range-, said Thorfinn slapping Steinn on the back. Head-sized targets too!

My brother is the best axe-tosser in Trondelag, perhaps all Midgard, Steinn boasted.

Thorfinn grinned, Maybe next summer you’ll challenge him.

Your mocking cuts deep. Steinn gave an agonized look to the wooden deer he had twice missed and shrugged. But, he’s older, it’s expected.

Thorfinn surveyed the various targets, each slightly smaller than the next; they were notched and gouged from all the competitors.

I didn’t fare much better.

Yes, but you took third in archery, said Steinn

Behind Ulfar and Kylan- not sure anyone will ever best Kylan.

A small group had gathered to congratulate Stagg on his victory. It was a modest crowd compared to those gathered around a brawny youth with flaming-red hair. Peers and older men glad-handed Grímr, who was laughing and soaking up the attention.

Anyway, Stagg’s victory is overshadowed by Grímr’s wrestling. Even the elders don’t recall anyone winning the event at sixteen winters.

Thorfinn gave a dismissive wave.

He's strong, but I'd wager his opponents just wanted away from his smell. He wafted his hands over his nose as young girls fawned over Grímr.

Seems they don’t mind, it doesn’t hurt to be a future konung, replied Steinn.

Eldest brother’s privilege.

Thorfinn was not impressed with his brother’s admirers. Instead, he focused in on a group of men, including the overseer, gathered around Thraìnn Throndsson of Trondelag. They spoke to him in a consoling fashion while two slatterns pandered to the prince with mead. For his part, Thraìnn seemed uninterested in the attention; he kept his eyes fixed on Stagg.

He did not take the loss well, said Thorfinn, discreetly motioning Steinn to look over.

No, he did not. Steinn looked at Thraìnn and then back to his brother who was busy pulling axes from the target. Think I should warn him?

I’m sure he’s aware, Thorfinn said. But all the same...

They approached Stagg who had lowered the target to the ground and was trying to pull the last axe from the wood. Thraìnn looks mighty upset over your victory.

I imagine he is, Stagg shrugged. However, I’m just a smith’s son, I only threaten his pride. He should be more upset with Grímr than me. He’s a rival jofurr and by the looks of it, getting most the girls-

-This was Thraìnn’s best event! Steinn interrupted, He didn’t expect to win at wrestling.

Does he expect to win the swimming leikar tomorrow? asked Stagg, pulling on the axe-handle. If so, I think young Thorfinn or I might have something to say about it. He yanked the axe free, put it back on his belt and ruffled Thorfinn’s dirty-blonde hair. Best swimmer in Gunnsfjord, besides myself of course.

Thorfinn ducked under his hand and got slugged in the shoulder for the effort; being around Stagg was like having another brother.

It’s been an exciting first leikmót for you two, Stagg said with a jovial look in his eyes. Get early rest tonight, the swimming leikar is more like a drowning leikar for first-timers.

We’ve seen it since we were kids, said Thorfinn.

Yes, but seeing and doing is what separates the men from the boys, said Stagg. Too tired to argue, they retired to their tents at dusk; Thorfinn was so excited for the final events he found sleep hard to come by.

Dawn came and despite summer, a chill breeze stirred out of the North. Thorfinn noted with a shiver that swimming would be a brisk affair. They ate while the presiding leaders discussed the day’s events.

In Thorfinn’s family, Hamall would participate in the horse fighting with their father’s finest young stallion Vegr. They would compete against Konung Thrond’s horse Ohof reined by Geirr Gristlebeard. Hamall let Thorfinn in on Gunder and Thrond's friendly side-wager. The loser would provide the other a steed in the upcoming betrothal of Grímr and Thrond’s eldest daughter, Birgitta.

Don’t worry father, Vegr is a much nastier horse than old Ohof and I’m just the one to handle him. Hamall was never without bluster.

Thrond and I will be there to cheer on our horses for bragging rights, said Gunder. I have no doubt you’ll make us proud. He gave Hamall a firm hand shake and a pat on the back.

Grímr chewed on a piece of soup-dipped bread staring at his father.

I don’t need an audience for my victories. Grímr was accustomed to getting his way and all the attention.

Grímr there is no reason to act bitter, said Gunder. The horse fights honor your marriage and I already watched you wrestle. By Thor you’ll probably win three events and bring great fame to Gundergard!

Grímr ate in silence.

After breakfast, Thorfinn’s father wished him good luck in the swimming competition. He received a look of encouragement from his brother Hamall as they departed with Vegr, but Grímr left to warm-up for his events without a word.

Thorfinn approached the River Nid, the northerly breeze rippled the waters as men stood in their undergarments and hopped around trying to get the blood flowing. Vigdís, mother of Stagg and Steinn, was talking to her sons when Thorfinn reached the riverbank. She smiled widely when she saw him.

Take these for after swimming, they’ll warm you up.

Vigdís offered him something wrapped in linen. Thorfinn guessed correctly that they were still-warm berry salmon biscuits. She always brought him extra food. She must have felt some motherly duty since his mother had died.

Thank you, he said taking a bite of one and wrapping them back up for later.

You’re too skinny, you need to eat more, she said pinching the back of his arm.

I eat plenty. His face grew flush.

The water is chilly on such a skinny frame—oh, OH it looks about to start- good luck boys! She walked over and took a seat on a rock near the riverbank.

Konung Thrond’s finest huntsman, Ulfar Far-Seeker, was governing the event. Thorfinn had watched this many times as a boy and awaited lots to be drawn. The lots were wooden sticks of equal length, marked on one side with a rune. Whoever drew matching runes would compete. The winner was the one that could hold their opponent under the longest, whilst Ulfar counted the time. If a swimmer was too exhausted to continue, they were to tap their opponent thrice and they were allowed to the surface but disqualified.

Stagg had honors; he drew a rune-stick and held it aloft offering a friendly challenge to the gathered swimmers. There was a general cheer for Sigurd’s son and Thorfinn saw Thorny, the girl whom Stagg fancied, beside Vigdís smiling.

The remaining swimmers drew lots from Ulfar’s hand. Thorfinn was paired against Thraìnn’s cousin Vermund. He was a short, spindly youth and Thorfinn felt confident to reach the next round. One-by-one lots were drawn until only Stagg remained unmatched. Thraìnn was the only one who had not drawn.

Fate makes us opponents again, said Thraìnn.

He drew the final lot and threw it into the river. Thorfinn found that an odd thing to do, but thought it must be a show of bravado.

I am honored to challenge Thraìnn Throndsson. Stagg bowed low. Thraìnn offered no reply.

The swimming leikar began and word spread quickly of the impending match between Thraìnn and Stagg. They would be the last to swim.

Thorfinn anxiously awaited his first swimming leikar. He watched the other swimmers compete as Ulfar looked on stone-faced, from his position on an offshore boulder and methodically counted the seconds beneath the water.

By mid-morning, several people had competed and his friend Steinn had beaten Kollsveinn, son of Koll Kollison, by a few seconds.

Well done! Thorfinn shouted, meeting him at the shore, but his voice was overwhelmed by those of Steinn’s mother and brother. He could tell Steinn was glad to have made up for his poor showing at axe-throwing.

With each passing match, Thorfinn’s opponent, Vermund, seemed to grow more agitated until, eventually he disappeared into his tent. When their names were finally called, Vermund crept to the edge of the water.

The moment was upon them and Ulfar motioned for Thorfinn and Vermund to wade out atop the rock, where the river got appreciably deeper. This was Thorfinn’s first official competition, despite swimming many times against his brothers and friends, the slow wade made his chest tighten and heart lurch. I’ve never seen anyone die from this, he thought stepping onto the rock. Just breathe.

Ulfar shouted, Swim.

Off they went into the river. They tread for several moments to get used to the chill water. Thorfinn recalled taking Grímr’s dare last winter to swim the fjord. This was chilly but nothing he couldn’t endure. He looked across at Vermund whose lips quivered.

After an agonizingly long time staring at each other Ulfar shouted,

Begin!

Thorfinn and Vermund swam toward one another and grabbed each other by the head. Thorfinn reached for a handful of hair, but his hand slipped off. Treachery, he thought. Vermund’s hair was slick with lard, the trickery gave him an early advantage. He grabbed a handful of Thorfinn's neck-length hair and forced him under.

Thorfinn however, did not panic. He grabbed Vermund’s spindly arm and forced it behind his back. With a downward thrust on his shoulder, he forced Vermund beneath the waters. The downward force vaulted Thorfinn’s face above-water for a gulp of air. His advantage was momentary however, as the lard made his grip tenuous and Vermund wriggled free. He fought his way to the surface briefly before Thorfinn could adjust. Thorfinn wrapped his legs around his torso and forced him under a second time. He locked his legs and squeezed. Thorfinn could sense by the thrashing, Vermund was panicking. In less than sixty beats, he was rapidly tapping Thorfinn’s arm. People shouted from the bank, but Ulfar waited a long time before declaring Thorfinn the victor. They climbed onto the rock, Vermund choking and gasping. Thorfinn composed himself with a few deep breaths before kneeling next to his prostrate opponent. He shoved his greasy hands in Vermund's face.

You have no honor.

The spindly youth was too tired to respond, he coughed and turned his head away. Thorfinn left him to his shame; Vigdís and her sons met him on the riverbank with dry clothes and congratulations.

Thorfinn gladly accepted, showing them the sheen on his hands.

Vermund’s treachery.

It runs in his blood, his father is a murderous exile, said Stagg, to which Vigdís gave him a disapproving look.

Say nothing of people you wouldn’t say to their face.

I would--

Stagg. The diminutive woman’s firm tone silenced her nearly-grown son. We don’t wish to bring Gunder any trouble by speaking ill of Thrond’s brother.

Her eyes found the konungs approaching side-by-side; Hamall was close behind holding Vegr’s reins. Gunder had a glint of pride in his eyes, but Konung Thrond’s face looked as if he had eaten bitter fruit.

I can’t believe the horse-fights are already over, said Steinn.

At least ours anyway, Thorfinn replied, And by Hamall’s smirk, we must have won.

The konungs and their retinue gathered to watch the swimming, and by the time Stagg and Thraìnn waded out and stood beside Ulfar, a sizable crowd had gathered with the konungs. The crowd spoke in low voices, the tension thick as the two young men sized each other up.

Thorfinn heard Steinn say to his mother, I wish father was here to see this. He knew Sigurd did not normally attend the leikmót, the forge kept him too busy. Vigdís, Steinn and Thorny looked on, visibly nervous, Thorfinn saw Steinn’s mother grab her son’s hand for support.

Swim! said Ulfar. The dark-haired Thraìnn squinted in the midday sun at his opponent. Stagg stood over him a couple inches with a joyful grin.

Swim, said Ulfar and they both leaped into the river and began treading water face-to-face, the crowd yelling encouragement.

Ulfar shouted for the match to begin.

They went at each other ferociously looking for a handful of hair, or some other grip on limbs or fingers. Thorfinn had seen Stagg defeat much older men than Thraìnn and felt confident he would get the upper hand.

They became a tangle of limbs and churning water as both men submerged. Stagg’s mother gasped. They were beneath the water for a dangerously long stretch before emerging a ways down-river. They were jostling for position even as they surfaced. Ulfar stopped his methodical hand motion to count time while they were above water. It seemed only a few breaths and both young men had pulled one another under again. The crowd was deathly quiet, as this time they were under for even longer. Stagg’s mother had her hands over her mouth and even the normally stoic Thrond began to look concerned. Eventually it became too much for a mother to bear and Vigdís’ resolve broke.

Stop the leikar! shouted Vigdís, but Ulfar ignored her. Stop it please! Do you see them?

Ulfar said nothing, not bothering to turn around. Thorfinn looked frantically in the waters for his friend, but the sun glared fiercely off the water. Only Ulfar had any vantage point looking straight down from atop the rock. As the agonizing moments passed, the crowd grew restless. Some even began to murmur that perhaps both had drowned. It was deathly quiet, the squalls of distant birds disrupting the pall. Finally, when all hope had vanished, there was a splash of water near the rock as a hand broke the surface. Moments later, a dark-haired young man had clambered onto the boulder lying face-down at Ulfar’s feet.

Steinn bolted across the shallows toward Thraìnn determined to find answers; Thorfinn scrambling to follow.

Where is my brother? he rushed to kick Thraìnn, but Ulfar intervened. The wolf-faced huntsman grabbed Steinn pinning his arm behind him, but he couldn't block Thorfinn, who leveled a heel into Thraìnn's ribs.

Answer him! Thorfinn's voice sharp with hysterics.

Ulfar released Steinn shoving Thorfinn into the river, before drawing his sword to stand over his prone charge. The crowd was in a frenzy, weapons leveled and finger-pointing shouts were made between konungs' camps.

Meanwhile, Thraìnn wheezed, coughing from Thorfinn's heel kick. He rolled onto his side panting, vomited river water and passed out.

Where is Stagg! Where is my boy? cried Vigdís as Thorny stared in disbelief.

Thorfinn angrily swam toward shore. He knew something wasn’t right. Stagg was the best swimmer he had ever seen; he could swim in frigid waters and hold his breath longer than anyone. He couldn’t be gone; it just wasn’t possible that Thraìnn had beaten him.

As Thorfinn pulled himself ashore, he saw something sinister about Ulfar’s face as he guarded Thraìnn. Thorfinn couldn’t just stand there; panic forced him into motion. He told Steinn to take the far riverbank as he rushed up and down the westerly side looking for signs of his friend. Others joined in, including men diving into the depths only to surface again with no news. He called out and kept an eye on the waters looking for any signs of his missing friend.

He and the others kept up their search until the morning sun crossed its apex into early afternoon. Thorfinn had walked soaking wet far along the northern bank, until he neared the mouth of the Nidelva. The river had widened with shallow, rocky pools and eddies along its banks before it spilled its fresh waters into the salty fjord. His adrenaline was sagging, he shivered from cool air on damp clothes his eyes scanning the banks.

I'll walk as far as the mouth, but beyond that he is lost to Njord, he thought. A few more minutes and all hope had been lost.

Not much further now, he said to anyone listening.

Njord must have heard his pleas, for the god of the sea returned his victim. Thorfinn's eye caught a pale form and his heart began to pound. Ahead, caught on an outcropping of rocks, was a body floating face-down in shallow waters. Thorfinn ran forward with desperate hope that it wasn’t Stagg. He rolled the body over to find his hopes were in vain. His friend's mouth was agape, tongue thick and purple, flopping from his jaws. His once friendly face was now distorted in shock and agony. By the time Thorfinn’s calls for help were heard, he had gotten a good look at Stagg’s body. His chest and arms were almost black where the blood had pooled from the dead-man’s float, leaving the rest of the body sickly pale. His neck had a purple welt, which looked to Thorfinn as if a piece of rope or leather had been held across it. Within a few minutes, his father and Kylan had arrived upon horseback.

Father Look! he pointed to the welt.

Kylan dismounted and walked to the corpse. Giving it a measured inspection, he eyed Gunder with a knowing glance.

He killed Stagg—

Silence. Gunder’s voice was commanding, his eyes unusually harsh. The sounds of hooves and voices grew near. Upriver Thorfinn could see Konung Thrond and Ulfar Far-Seeker riding toward them. Konung Gunder glanced back at the approaching riders and then back to his son.

Say nothing of what you saw. Gunder spoke fast, Promise me boy--

W-why?

Promise ME! he shouted as Konung Thrond and his huntsman were galloping within earshot.

I promise, said Thorfinn.

Chapter One

It was spring, 792 AD by the Julian calendar, in the lands later to become Norway. The Norse however, did not use such counting. There were simply two halves of the year; the harsh Short-Days, when the world was snow and shadow, and the welcome Nightless Days, when the sun stayed above the horizon for long hours.

This was the warmest day of the fledgling Nightless Days and the three sons of Gunder the Old were sparring in the sunlight. As usual, Grímr was getting the best of his younger brothers.

You shame our ancestors! he taunted.

Hamall and Thorfinn were muddied and bruised. They circled Grímr with wooden swords and shields, Hamall not daring to rush until Thorfinn made a move. Thorfinn’s frustration grew with each passing moment of his brother's hesitance. The circling dance of feints and bluffed rushes went on until he couldn’t take it any longer. With shield raised, Thorfinn rushed to Grímr’s sword side, but Grímr moved quickly for his size and side-stepped the attack. He exposed his flank for Hamall, but the middle brother wavered and Thorfinn paid for the delay. Grímr sword-whipped his legs and sent him face-first into the mud. With Grímr’s focus on Thorfinn, Hamall finally charged, but too late. From the corner of his eye Grímr saw the tardy rush and slammed his shield into Hamall’s face. He roared with laughter as Hamall fell in a heap.

You always make Thorfinn lead. Grímr stroked his red beard that belied his nineteen winters. You lack courage.

Hamall wiped his bloody nose with his sleeve refusing to say a word, but Thorfinn pulled himself off the ground, rubbing a newly earned thigh bruise.

Just once if you would rush with me, we might have a chance, he said, frowning at his middle-brother.

Hamall would endure Grímr’s taunts, but a younger brother was different.He jumped to his feet gesturing toward Grímr with his sword.

He’s the strongest man in Gunnsfjord, he said.

Size has nothing to do with your hesitance- if these were real weapons, we’d be dead, said Thorfinn. He could see Hamall’s face start to flush, but he prodded further.

And when you do attack, you're dainty as a girl.

Hamall snapped. He bull-rushed Thorfinn who slipped in the mud and Hamall jumped on top of him. Both of them were swinging fists and cursing until Grímr pried them apart.

Enough! Grímr’s voice brought an immediate halt to the fighting. Complete your work and clean up; father should be home tonight.

Hamall and Thorfinn quit their bickering and followed him up the hill. Gundergard sprawled above them like a slumbering dragon lying upon its hoard. Bristling palisades ringed its body, from its mouth came water warmed within the hillside’s fiery belly. They washed themselves in the waters before passing within.

Inside the palisade, Gundergard’s great hall was a fine work of Norse craftsmanship built by their great grandfather. The original floor-plan was a large, rectangular hall, but by Gunder's time, he had built new wings, until the building was constructed in the shape of Thor's Hammer. The haft formed the original hall, the butt breaking off into kitchen, larder, and guest rooms. The hammer's head housed private quarters for the family and special guests. Outside, apart from the main hall was a full byre, stable and servant’s quarters.

It was late afternoon when Gunder the Old and his men arrived. From under his conical helm sprouted a graying beard that betrayed his years, but his blue eyes held the vigor of a man half his age. Two servants offered him help from his horse, but he shooed them away.

"I’m not so old I can’t get out of my saddle; by Odin I should live that long!"

Gunder held the scabbard of his blade as he swung himself from the horse. His double-edged sword was keen and well-oiled. It had an ivory pommel carved into the shape of a leering dragon; its eyes were small red jewels. Jotun’s Brand was the hereditary weapon handed down since the Age of Giants to signify lordship in the lands south of Trondelag. His Grandfather, Gunder the First, had wielded it to forge an uneasy alliance of clans. Gunder had spent the better part of his life upholding those old alliances, just like his father before him.

Gunder and his most loyal men walked into his home to find his sons seated around the long table. Each stood to honor their father.

Grímr greeted him with a warrior’s handshake, Hail father, I take it the hunt went well?

It went well, but the thaw comes early, said Gunder. Swollen rivers and muddy forests make for a treacherous hunt.

The fjords are rising, said Skeggi, eyes wide as he spoke through snowy beard. The seas grow warm and the gods of spring overtake winter's Bitch Queen earlier each cycle.

The old skald was long-winded, but Gunder waited until he finished.

I managed to fell an old buck still donning his winter coat, he said, But Kylan bested me again- that prick killed a boar with only a single arrow.

The shaggy-haired warrior stood quietly at his lord's right hand, a hint of a smirk crept across his face as Gunder feigned indignation toward him.

Hamall raised his mug, A toast to Kylan the Silent, a most impressive huntsman and archer; you are truly blessed by Ull.

The hall in turn raised their drinking horns and mugs in toast to the successful hunters and Ull, god of archers and the hunt.

Soon, we'll honor Frey as well, said Gunder as all eyes were upon their venerable konung. An invite was sent through Gunnsfjord to join us for a feast in the great hall. I hope many attend despite the short notice, I have good tidings I wish to share.

Tell us now, don't make us wait with the rabble, said Hamall.

Rabble? Gunder gave him a stern look.

Go on tell us, urged his middle-son again.

Gunder relented, anxious to share the news.

Fine, fine. After two winters with no Altings between konungs, I sent messengers by ship and steed to Nidaros and Vinterheim. Just this evening as we rode through Gunnsfjord spreading word of the feast, our envoy returned to port. He came with tidings from Konung Thrond stating his intent to attend Frey's Festival.

Thrond, Thorfinn’s teeth ground together upon hearing the name. His mind raced back to his first swimming leikmòt, he could still see Stagg’s body face down on the riverbank. His chest and arms were almost black where the blood had pooled from the dead-man’s float, leaving the rest of his friend’s body sickly pale. His neck had a purple welt, which looked to Thorfinn as if a piece of rope or leather had been held across it. Two winters had passed and yet he still couldn’t look at Grímr’s wife, Birgitta, without thoughts of her murderous brother Thrainn and their father Thrond.

In addition, Konung Bergthorr Half-Giant will be joining us from his mountain hall. Gunder’s face lit up when he spoke of his old friend.

Three konungs in one place to honor the gods and discuss realm matters will be a blót to remember! said Jorund the Stout. The overweight Jorund used to be a fierce warrior, but these days he spent too much time in the great hall and not enough time in the training yard. Thorfinn wasn’t surprised to hear him licking his father’s boots.

A short time later the doors to the great hall were opened and many townspeople arrived, glad to share in the fresh meat after a long winter, including the deceased Stagg’s younger siblings, Steinn and his sister Æsa.

Where are your parents? asked Thorfinn, out of politeness, despite knowing the answer.

Busy at the forge and mother sent me up with her tidings and warm flat-bread, said Steinn, pointing to the large basket Æsa held up proudly.

Hello, she said with polite curtsy, lowering her eyes.

Good to see you he replied, but his eyes said much more. Her warm smile reminded Thorfinn of her mother Vigdís, but Æsa’s voice was enthralling, it held his attention and saddened him when she was no longer around.

When you see your parents, tell them we missed their company, said Thorfinn.

Sigurd rarely attended events and while Thorfinn did not doubt his workload, he assumed Grímr's marriage to Birgitta played a larger role in his absence. All the same, he was glad to see his friend and his pulse quickened when he saw Æsa.

They made small talk about local events until the head-servant announced the food was being served. Thorfinn and Steinn took seats near one another with Æsa across the table. The servants put out the freshly roasted venison and boiled pork while the drinking horns circled the hall. Gunder's horn was always refilled by head-servant Tofa. Her face was plain but sincere, with long brown hair that she kept pinned up and crow’s feet that placed her in her mid-thirties. Thorfinn however, never found her particularly kind to him. He knew his father had taken her to his bed a few times after a night of drinking, but Thorfinn knew she was more than just a servant to his father after his mother died. Their time together had grown more frequent and her influence stronger with each passing winter. Her dislike toward Thorfinn was more a feeling than anything said or done, but Thorfinn trusted his instincts.

The gathering became raucous and the tales grew grander as the mead flowed. Kylan’s shot was further afield with each warriors retelling of the hunt. Kylan was withdrawn from the attention, but Gunder insisted it was the finest shot he had ever seen, --Through light brush, with the boar bearing down on the hunting party. The arrow struck the boar between the eyes and it died on the spot.

You are kind in your words my konung, said Kylan deflecting praise, But it was a shot that any man with two arms and two eyes could have made. Yours however, took a keen eye and silent feet.

Gunder smiled, Kylan the Silent, you never take any glory for your deeds. I am an aging man, Frey struck the stag deaf and dumb before I loosed that arrow.

The hall broke out in laughter. The women of Gundergard had helped the servants prepare the meal, but now joined their men in the celebration of a successful hunt. Birgitta and Thorny sauntered over to their husbands. Birgitta shook her auburn hair as she sat down and put her lips to Grímr's ear.

You heard my family will be attending Frey’s Feast? She kissed his ear.

I am glad this pleases you, replied Grímr, his eyes still focused upon the men telling stories around the fire.

It does. You are a good man, and hopefully soon I will bring you a son. Grímr gave her a quick glance before raising the hollowed horn in toast to another tale of heroism. Talk of children made Grímr uncomfortable, but Birgitta lit a fire in his loins he couldn't deny.

As Thorny emerged from the kitchen and sat beside her husband Jorund, Gunder’s Master of Huscarl, Thorfinn noticed Steinn turn his back on her. The sight of watching his dead brother’s former wife-to-be married to another must have been painful. Thorfinn tried to keep the topics light around his friends, but Steinn's mood darkened.

After supper, the revelry and storytelling grew to a thunderous roar of laughter and bawdy songs. Most the unwed free women left Gundergard.

Steinn also stood to leave, I must take Æsa home, the hour grows late and the men grow lustful. He took Æsa's arm, but she hesitated. A furtive glance passed between her and Thorfinn.

It was good to see you both, I'll visit the smithy soon, said Thorfinn clapping Steinn on the back before escorting them to the door.

Good, I'm sure father could use the help, said his friend.

He must be desperate to need mine, Thorfinn smiled.

Gunder's huscarl found pleasure in the serving women, others, with their wives. Many retreated to the shadowed corners while the boisterous, such as Hamall, fondled the servants in open display.

Thorny moved away from Jorund and slid in beside Birgitta, while Jorund made lusty comments towards the just-flowered servant girl, Helga.

Doesn't that bother you? asked Birgitta watching Jorund's clumsy advance.

Men will be men, said Thorny taking a long drink of spiced mead.

Let's hope he doesn't dishonor you, said Birgitta.

As long as I have true friends like you... she took another sip, I don't fear the woe men bring my way.

All the same, Helga is Tofa's daughter, the father is in dispute.

Jorund is all bluster, the only thing bigger than his mouth is his growing belly, said Thorny finishing off her drink.

Meanwhile, Thorfinn’s mind drifted from Æsa to Skeggi’s tales of the gods. The skald recounted the sagas of Odin One-Eye- the All-Father, War-Bringer and Rune-Master; and of Thor his mighty son and Thor's half-brother, Loki the Trickster. Thorfinn had heard them all since he was a boy, but he still liked how Skeggi told them with great zeal, like they had happened just last week.

The old skald had seen much and with a few drinks in him and an attentive ear he would tell you of his travels. He had been to the port town of Bjorgvin and the trading towns of Birka and Kaupang of the Shining Halls. Skeggi claimed to have even traveled with Gunder’s brother Gunnarr the Mighty across the North Sea to the lands of the Angles. Thorfinn wished to see such places someday, a thought that Skeggi did not discourage.

Youngest sons make the bravest sailors, he always told him with a wink. Because they have no inheritance, Thorfinn thought. Skeggi always left that part out.

The conversation had swung back to Frey’s Feast and Gunder stood near the blazing hearth.

With Guthrod’s death five winters ago, our bonds are not as strong with Bergthorr as they once were. Thorfinn thought his father must be drunk, for he rarely spoke of Guthrod, his dead brother. I have sent a messenger to Vinterheim that we should discuss a union between Thorfinn and his youngest daughter Halla.

Thorfinn could not believe what he was hearing.

Father, what of Hamall? he asked with a desperate tone.

He is already promised to Fiorleif Finnvarddottir.

Grímr, drunk with mead and pride shouted, "I already strengthen our ties north, battling Birgitta's thighs every night!" Grímr laughed at his own joke as she rolled her eyes in mock disdain.

So that leaves you little brother. He took a long drink from the horn, turning his attention to Thorfinn. Halla Bergthorrdottir- you should be proud! I hear she has tits wide as a ship’s stern.

Halla Ship-tits more like it! said Hamall.

Thorfinn blushed at his brothers’ comments. The men slapped him on the back and offered toasts to Halla Ship-tits.

Thorny seized the moment amidst the raucous laughter to speak to Birgitta. I would have thought Thraìnn would have interest in Bergthorr's youngest daughter?

Birgitta glanced at Thorfinn, I wouldn't know, I haven't spoken to him in two winters. I figured he would be the last person you wished to speak of.

Thorny let out an exaggerated sigh. I gave up that grudge long ago, I'm sure it was an accident. As your father said, the Leikmot's are dangerous games that no man is obligated to join.

Birgitta searched her face for sincerity,

I'm not sure Stagg's family or Thorfinn agree. She kissed Thorny's cheek. But, if you will excuse me, my husband is three horns past drunk, it's time we found our bed.

She turned and whispered something in Grímr’s ear. He smiled deviously, saluted his father and disappeared with her behind furs hanging at the far end of