Chapter Two #2
“You’re not a liar, Sif,” Hakon replied. “Of course I believe you.” He rubbed his bearded chin in thought, before asking, “So what do you think this means? And what will you do?”
“As to what it means, I’m not sure,” admitted Sif. “A terrible threat from the far North? That could be anything. Lady Freyja said that the whole of Gotland is threatened—Visby, the Ironwood, everything. What do I intend to do? Leave, immediately.”
Hakon stiffened but said nothing.
“The whole of Gotland needs our aid,” said Sif, an unspoken question in her voice.
“Our aid,” echoed Hakon, emphasizing the first word.
“That’s why I’m here, Hakon. Lady Freyja said that we needed swords.” Sif looked for a moment as if she was going to say more then left it at that.
Thank you, Odin Allfather. When you close a door, you open a gate.
“You seek to hire my sword, Sif? You have it. But there is a price.”
Sif swallowed. “A price?”
“You.”
“Me!” replied Sif in disbelief. “What do you mean, me?”
“You want my sword? I want you.”
“I don’t even know what that means!”
“I will fight on your behalf. And in exchange, you will be my woman. You will share my bed. I will follow your wishes, but you will obey my commands,” replied Hakon.
“Hakon, don’t be ridiculous,” said Sif, her anger clearly rising. “I’ve sworn an oath to the Ironwood, to become a spellsinger. I cannot belong to both you and the Ironwood.”
“We’ll find a way,” said Hakon confidently.
“Your price is too high.” replied Sif, frowning.
“You won’t find a better one, nor a sharper sword. Go ahead and see for yourself. But be warned, Sif. Refuse me now, and there will be consequences when you come back and ask again.”
“I’ll see you in Hell first,” snarled Sif, and stalked away.
A moment later, Gunnar emerged from the house to stand near Hakon. He clapped his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You play a risky game, Brother mine,” he said cheerfully.
“For the highest stakes, Gunnar,” replied Hakon. “I know her mind. She yearns for me, just as I ache for her. But she thinks her fate must carry her away from me. It’s my duty to make her realize it does not.”
“My poor brother, and his high and lonely duty,” chuckled Gunnar.
“Gods, I long for the day a woman catches your heart and hooks you,” growled Hakon.
Gunnar touched the hammer pendant hanging on his chest. “Thor protect me!”
***
“Father!” protested Sif. “The dream is real! Freyja needs our help!”
“I do not doubt the dream, my daughter,” said Huw, “nor do I doubt the need. I listened carefully to everything you said. You asked Freyja where you would find swords. What did she reply?”
“She said, ‘I think you know the answer,’” muttered Sif, her eyes downcast.
“And was I the first name that came to your mind?” asked Huw.
Sif hesitated.
“Answer your father, dear,” said Astrid gently.
“No,” Sif finally said.
“What name did come to your mind?” pressed Huw.
Sif sighed. “Hakon,” she admitted.
Huw leaned back in his chair. “There you have it,” he said. “Daughter mine, I’d carve through a horde of Skraelings to save you, but I’d be a fool to stand in the way of your destiny.” He folded his arms in the way that Sif knew from long experience meant that he had made his final decision.
Still, Sif was not willing to give up. “Mother,” she began, in a pleading tone.
Astrid shook her head. “If your father and I had denied our fates, you would not even be here, my dear,” she said firmly. “You must have the courage to walk your road.”
“It’s not a lack of courage that’s the problem,” said Sif fiercely, pushing away from the table and stalking out of her parents’ house.
Huw chuckled and Astrid sighed, as they reached out for one another’s hands.
***
Sif was so angry, stomping through town and muttering fiercely to herself, that it took her some time to notice the people rushing towards the town square. Finally, however, the buzz of excitement was so loud that it broke through her angry reverie.
“What’s going on?” she asked a man who was hurrying along the street. The man did not tarry but turned his head and said excitedly, “Holmgang!” as he jogged along. Sif joined the growing tide of people rushing to the center of town.
Holmgang. Someone’s disagreements had escalated to violence and was going to be settled by a fight to the death. Hazel rods would be laid out to make a square, six feet by six feet. Two men would enter the square, but only one would leave.
Sif’s hand flew to her mouth as she reached the town square. Two men were readying shields and weapons, outside of the square made by the hazel rods. One of the men she didn’t know.
The other one was Hakon.
For a moment, Sif became dizzy and felt as though she was about to faint, before she put a hand on the wall to steady herself. Sounds of conversation, which had faded to a dull buzz, became discernible once again.
“Let everyone hear once more,” called Hakon, “Hvitserk, I have no quarrel with you. This thing does not need doing. Cease, and we can both walk away.”
The crowd murmured in discontent.
“Then you admit you are a coward and struck a coward’s blow last night?” snarled Hvitserk.
Hakon shook his head. “That I will not do. You fool, I was trying to save your life.” He gripped his sword and shield and stepped into the square. Hvitserk readied a shield and heavy axe then joined him. The crowd hushed.
Hakon was balanced on the balls of his feet, shield high on his left arm, sword with point levelled at Hvitserk.
He seemed to be waiting. Finally, Hvitserk gathered his strength and swung his axe in a lethal arc.
Hakon did not even step back but shifted so that the axe passed harmlessly to his right.
The noise of the crowd rose as the two men circled within the tight space marked by the hazel rods.
Sif could not look away, and as she felt dizziness for a second time, had to remind herself to breathe.
Hvitserk stepped forwards again, his axe swinging low towards Hakon’s lead leg.
Hakon quickly moved back, the axe missing his knee by inches.
Still, he had not swung in response. Sif, who could read Hakon’s body language better than anyone, noticed a tiny shift, as if he had moved to a new level of readiness. Her heart pounded.
Hvitserk brought his axe high and swung down, a skull-crushing blow, but halfway through the motion took a hard step, checked his swing, and spun as he changed his attack to a flat horizontal slash at neck level.
Sif gasped. It was a beautiful, life-ending feint.
It was also the move Hakon had apparently been waiting for.
Hakon crouched down so that Hvitserk’s axe whistled overhead.
As soon as the blade had passed, Hakon sprung upwards in a powerful thrust, driving the point of his sword directly into Hvitserk’s throat.
It was a clean strike, perfectly timed. Hvitserk dropped like a boned fish, dead before he hit the ground.
The crowd erupted in approval, and Sif’s heart rose. She realized, in the great flood of her joy and relief, how terrified she had been of losing Hakon. The thought had been overwhelming.
Sif did not want to live a life without Hakon in it.
She ignored the cheering, gesticulating crowd, as if it did not exist, and walked directly towards Hakon.
As she drew near the triumphant Hakon, the crowd hushed, expectant.
He turned to face her, his eyes alight with excitement and battle lust. In front of the crowd, Sif held Hakon’s gaze as she dropped to one knee before him, and then lowered her head.
“I consent to your terms, Hakon,” she said. “In exchange for your sword, I will become your woman.”
Hakon dropped his shield, drove his still-bloody sword into the earth, and lifted Sif back to her feet, claiming her mouth with a passionate and ferocious kiss.
The crowd, not entirely sure what was happening but knowing a joyous result when they saw one, let out an enthusiastic cheer.
Hakon put his mouth to Sif’s ear and, under cover of the cheering, whispered, “Then I command you, lady, to come with me.”
Sif felt all of her nerves light up and whispered back, “Yes, my Lord.” The two of them walked, hand in hand, through the cheering crowd.
***
When Hakon arrived at his house with Sif in tow, there was someone waiting for them.
“You’ve had a busy day,” said Gunnar.
“You got here quickly!” replied a surprised Hakon.
“One may travel more swiftly than two. I did pick up your sword and shield where you left them, in case you might need them.”
“Thanks, Brother. For what I have in mind, I will not need them,” said Hakon.
“I did not imagine so,” observed Gunnar, smiling at Sif. She blushed. “Still, Hvitserk has relatives, little brother. If you have no objections, I’ll stay outside here for a while.”
Hakon clapped Gunnar on the shoulder, gripping him tightly. “Thank you, Brother.”
“Always,” replied Gunnar easily. He paused, and said, “It was bravely done, Brother.”
“The man was a fool, but I had no design upon his life,” said Hakon shortly. “My plans lie elsewhere.” So saying, he steered Sif into the house.