Chapter One
Present day
“Pull, you lazy maggots!” snarled the shipmaster.
“We mean to make the Jomsburg on the high tide, and it’s almost finished.
If we have to fight the ebb current, the job will be twice as hard and take four times longer!
So pull, blight you, if you want to reach the docks with the sun still in the sky! ”
Some of the rowers grumbled, but Sif Astridsdottir merely smiled quietly to herself.
Egil was a decent enough shipmaster, but the man worried like an aging grandmother about the tides.
Sif had grown up sailing in these waters and knew that the high tide had at least an hour’s flow left, more than enough time to reach the docks of the Jomsburg.
I wonder if Hakon is home yet. Then, on the heels of that thought, Fool! And why would it matter if he was?
Sif shook her head as if to clear it and brushed stray strands of golden hair away from her face.
The young woman was aware that the eyes of several of the crew were following her, but she paid them no mind.
This close to the Jomsburg, the phrase “Huw of Hestur’s daughter” worked stronger than spellcraft.
Could I defend myself with spellcraft if I needed to? I know I’ve done it in practice, but never in the heat of an urgent moment…since that one time, with Alvar.
Such a long time ago, it seems now.
Sif swore she could hear the words of her mentor, the Lady Brede, in her ear. So many doubts, girl. Follow them back through the soil of your mind and pluck them out by the roots. Your spirit should have no room for doubt-seedlings.
Sif let her breath out, slowly, in the way that she had been trained.
With thirty strong backs and thirty pairs of arms pulling as one, it was not long before the longship flew past the channel markers and up to the docks themselves. “Oars up!” came the cry from Egil, and the ship coasted smoothly up to a long wooden jetty.
Even as the crew were carefully shipping the oars, Sif stepped gracefully between them, and moved from ship to dock, bunching her skirts in one hand to do so. She felt the warm benevolence of her father’s gaze even before she looked up from the wooden planks.
“Father,” said Sif, breaking into a dazzling smile as she regarded him.
“Daughter,” replied Huw softly, his smile wide. The proud warrior put a hand on her shoulder and leaned his head forwards to lightly touch hers.
“Let’s look at you, my child!” cried Astrid, bustling forwards. “The very picture of a woman, indeed! Look how you’ve grown!”
“Grown more beautiful,” said Huw proudly, beaming.
“While my father’s beard grows grey,” teased Sif.
“As it should!” laughed Huw. “Always beware a greybeard warrior, my daughter. They’ve lived long enough to learn a thing or two.”
“Then you must be a genius, my husband,” interjected Astrid, taking their daughter by the arm and steering her down the jetty. “Come, we must make haste if I am to have a hot meal for the pair of you before night falls.”
“We could always find a supper at the Wanderer,” said Huw.
“That way you can join us for the food rather than fussing over the fire. Even if you deserve a smacked bottom for mocking my age.” Even as Astrid prepared a stinging retort, Huw looked at his daughter, his eyes twinkling.
“Besides,” he added, “word on the waves is that Gunnar and Hakon will be coming home right on the edge of the high tide, and that they will be telling tales about their voyage to Miklagard tonight.”
“That sounds very interesting,” said Sif politely, hoping her cheeks did not look as warm as they felt under her father’s amused gaze. “And I agree, it would be nice for Mother to sit and join us for the meal. We have much to talk about.”
“Your father just wants an excuse to drink with Brynn, that’s all,” muttered Astrid. “I like cooking! I know I didn’t used to, but I’m starting to get the hang of it.” She gave a mild squeak as Huw’s hand connected firmly with her shapely bottom.
“What was that for?” she protested.
“Do I need a reason?” demanded Huw, laughing.
“No, sir,” replied Astrid, lowering her eyes but only for a moment.
“Wisdom tells me that someone in the world probably has more embarrassing parents than I do, but I honestly could not tell you who that might be,” said Sif reflectively, as they neared the entrance to the Wanderer.
“Respect your elders,” said Astrid laughing, as Huw opened one of the two double doors of the tavern and shepherded them inside.
Shouts of greeting and well-wishes greeted the trio as they entered the venerable tavern.
The Wanderer was the favored haunt of the more senior members of the Jomsviking brotherhood.
The young might boast and jostle with each other at the Swinging Hammer two streets over, but the more established warriors preferred a place where they could drink and speak more sedately.
It was an unwise visitor who mistook the quieter gatherings at the Wanderer for a timid crowd.
While fights were ten to the penny at the Hammer, roaring up and blowing out like a blacksmith’s bellows, they tended to lead to nothing worse than the odd broken head and bruised ego.
Anyone foolish enough to provoke the drinkers of the Wanderer was unlikely to leave the tavern upright.
There was one regular of the Wanderer who was anything but quiet, however, and his voice roared unmistakably over all the others, drowning them out.
“Sif!” bellowed Brynn Thorson, rising to his feet. “By all the gods, look at you!” The massive man rushed forwards and plucked the young woman from her feet, holding her up to his eye level as she laughed in delight.
“There is no doubt,” said Brynn solemnly, placing her carefully back on her feet. “You are your mother’s daughter. I thank the goddesses that you do not look like your father, who is famed through the Nine Worlds for his ugliness.”
“When did my uncle Brynn become such a silver-tongued flatterer?” asked Sif, her eyes shining as she laughed, even as her father sputtered in indignation.
“He can be a clever fellow when he sets his mind to it,” said Kasia, stepping out from behind her husband and kissing Sif on the cheek. “Mind you, he’s been working on that line all day.”
The young woman let the sounds of Huw’s howl of glee and Brynn’s roar of exasperation fade into the background as she scanned the interior of the tavern.
There was many a familiar face, both men and women, although they had all aged since she had last seen them.
But the Wanderer was still a tavern for the veterans, not the young.
There was no sign of Hakon, or Gunnar, either, for that matter.
Patience. When they arrive, they will be boasting of their feats down at the Hammer.
Surrounded by envious young men and girls with lustful ideas.
Gunnar may well avail himself of a fancy or two.
Not Hakon. Not if he’s the same as I remember.
And if he’s not, then he’s not really worth my thoughts anyway.
Why are you thinking about him at all, for Freyja’s sake? You made your decision years ago!
“Ale, my dear? Or would you prefer some mead?” asked the serving woman, snapping Sif back to her present moment. She smiled and sat down. “Mead, thank you,” said Sif. “Vana, I swear that you haven’t aged a day since I left!”
Vana smiled back. “Such a charming girl you are. You broke the hearts of all the boys in town when you went off to the Ironwood, I swear.”
“A fickle bunch of boys, with hearts easily mended by the next passing skirt, I suspect,” said Sif dryly, drawing a laugh from both Vana as well as her parents.
“There’s wisdom in your words, my dear daughter,” said Huw. “Look at Brynn’s boys, now! Why, I’ll bet they’ve been putting their longships into port all the way to Miklagard and back again.” Huw suddenly winced, as if he had been struck. Astrid was scowling.
“When it comes to Gunnar, there’s no doubt that you’re right.” said Brynn as he nodded. “He’s had an eye for long hair and rosy lips since he reached the height of my belt. Hakon, now…sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with him!”
“How’s that, Uncle?” asked Sif, trying to hide the way her heart leapt at his words.
“Huh! It’s not that the lad is afraid of women, or any such thing.
Far from it! Fear would at least be an emotion, by the gods.
My second son seems to have ice water flowing through his veins!
Never gave a girl a second look. Hopefully the olive-skinned beauties of Miklagard have cured him of that!
Not that he’d tell his own father, even if they had.
There’s a boy who’s always kept his own counsel. ”
It was Brynn’s turn to wince, and Kasia’s turn to scowl.
“Enough about the boys,” interjected Astrid, placing her hand on her daughter’s arm. “Tell us of you, my dear! It’s been so long since we’ve seen you. How fares the Ironwood?”
Sif smiled and took a drink of mead. “Well enough, Mother. They still speak of you and Aunt Kasia in glowing terms—the Sisters who saved the Ironwood.”
“Your uncle and I might have had a little bit to do with that as well,” observed Huw, with a wry smile.
“Ignore him. Men fuss so when the attention is not on their deeds,” said Astrid, but with a kiss on Huw’s cheek to show the words were meant in jest. Brynn scowled and looked to be on the verge of saying something himself but stopped as he realized that anything he said would only show the truth of Astrid’s words.
“The Lady Brede is well, and she sends her blessings to you all.” said Sif, smiling.
“She’ll outlive us all, it seems,” observed Kasia. “And the other Sisters?”