Chapter Four #2
But the next day, even Egil seemed unsure.
“By Hel’s frozen tits!” the captain cursed.
“I’ve never seen such thick clouds without a break.
” Throughout the day, he held his crystal up to the sky, trying to find the brightest light that would reveal the location of the sun to him.
Egil fussed and made small course corrections throughout the day.
That night, the occupants of the longship saw the orange glow on the horizon for the first time.
“What do you reckon that is?” said Hakon softly.
“Cursed if I know,” reply Gunnar. “Fire, maybe? It’s not Bifrost; that’s more green and purple, and higher in the sky. That orange is right on the horizon line, due north if I’m any judge.”
“Due north,” repeated Hakon, glancing at Sif. “I wonder if there’s a connection to Freyja’s warning.” Sif said nothing but looked nervously at the glow tingeing the horizon.
The next morning, a relieved sailor standing high on the mast cried out that he had spotted land. Within the hour, the coast of the isle of Gotland was visible from the deck. Egil seemed visibly relieved.
“Praise to Ran’s nine daughters,” said Egil. He added quietly, “That last day was as much luck as craft, when it came to navigation.”
“By hook or by crook, we’re here,” said Hakon, clapping the captain on the shoulder. “How long until we reach Visby?”
“Gods willing, we’ll be docking as the sun sets,” replied Egil. “Whether we can see the bloody sun or not.”
“If the sun hasn’t been swallowed,” said a member of the crew nervously.
“You’re not that lucky, Jesper!” roared Egil. “You’ve sworn an oath to row to Visby and back, and not even Ragnarok is going to excuse you from a week of honest work.”
The crew laughed, and only the passengers at the bow of the ship saw the relief that passed across Egil’s face.
Later, Hakon drew Sif aside, as much as he could aboard a crowded ship. “We’ll be making landfall at Visby soon,” he said.
“I know,” said Sif curiously, “what of it?”
“No matter how many times you may have been, Visby is dangerous. There are certain rules I would like to establish.”
Sif said nothing but folded her arms.
Not a good sign.
“One, once we make landfall, you are not to leave my sight. Two, you do not speak to strangers without my permission.”
“Oh, come on, Hakon!” Sif burst out.
“I’m serious, Sif. We know nothing about the nature of the threat we face. The strange skies make me wary enough. We must exercise caution.”
Sif looked at him in silence.
“These are my rules, Sif. Tell me you understand them. And let me be clear; disobey them, and there will be consequences.”
Hakon held her gaze, and it was Sif who looked down first.
“Yes, my Lord,” she murmured, finally.
Hakon cupped her cheek. “That’s my good girl,” he said.
***
Just as Egil had predicted, sundown was turning the clouded sky a deep red as their longship slid against the dock, and members of the crew leapt out to secure the ship’s lines to wooden cleats that studded the dock.
Hakon and Gunnar shook hands with Egil, and Hakon handed the ship’s captain a pouch of coin.
“Thank you, Captain. Safe travels home to you and your crew.”
“We sail back to Jomsburg on the morning tide, young master Hakon, should you change your mind,” replied Egil. “I’d not say it in front of the crew, but these skies worry me. They portend something unnatural.”
“We all have our patterns to weave, Captain,” replied Hakon. “Best of luck with yours.”
“Aye, lad,” said Egil warmly and turned to deal with his crew.
“Come on, then,” called Gunnar, who was already at the end of the dock. “My foster mother and father live all the way on the far side of Visby, and the cold comes quick after sundown.”
“Have you ever met Thorulf and Ignetha?” Sif asked Hakon, as they hurried to catch up to the swiftly striding Gunnar.
“When I was very young,” replied Hakon. “Only the once. Gunnar’s made the journey many times. They were very kind to me, and of course they adore Gunnar.”
“Have they no children of their own?” asked Sif.
Hakon laughed. “Twin boys, no less! Apparently they tried for a great while to no effect, but after they fostered Gunnar, Ignetha’s field was as fertile as it was well-ploughed.”
Sif nodded. “I have heard of such things before.”
“Well-ploughed fields?” asked Hakon with a gleam in his eye.
“No, you oaf!” Sif punched his arm. “Women becoming pregnant when the pressure is off.”
“Well, there’s no pressure on you,” said Hakon. “Just a long, strong plough.”
“Gods above and below,” moaned Gunnar, who had slowed down to allow them to catch up. “I could have gone my whole life without hearing about my brother’s plough.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” giggled Sif, then cried, “Yowch!”
“Behave,” warned Hakon.
“Probably wise,” advised Gunnar, half seriously.
They walked in silence for a time, passing through the lighted streets and under the arches of the East Gate. Gunnar lifted a lit torch from an iron bracket on the thick stone arch. “Not far now,” he said and walked with torch held high to illuminate the way for all of them.
“Gods, how long, Gunnar?” groused Hakon.
“Soon enough,” replied Gunnar affably. “Journeys in the dark always seem longer. Ah, here we are!” They turned off the main road and up a track to where a house lay, illuminated by several long torch holders thrust into the ground.
As the three moved closer, a chorus of barking dogs began from a pen to the left of the house.
“Hello, boys!” cried Gunnar. “Hail, brave Ulrik! Ragnar! Little Lars, not so little anymore! It’s good to see you all!
” The tenor of the barking changed as the dogs recognized the arrival of an old friend.
Gunnar ran over to the pen, rubbing the muzzles and ears of the leaping dogs, accepting their joyous licks to his hands and face.
The door to the house burst open, spilling light into the night.
“Gunnar!” shouted two young men as they jumped down the steps, enveloping Gunnar in two crushing bear hugs. Hakon and Sif looked on, bemused.
“By the gods, lads, look at how you’ve grown!” laughed Gunnar, staggering backwards. “Stand still so I can take a look at the both of you!” The flurry of activity resolved itself into twin boys in their late teens, each with a shock of unruly blond hair.
“Hakon, this pair of miscreants you may remember from the last time you were here,” said Gunnar, as the twins stood grinning. “This is Breca, and Ulf.”
“I’m Breca,” corrected the one twin, rolling his eyes. “He’s Ulf.”
“I remember two tow-headed rascals running with the dogs,” laughed Hakon. “Lads, this is Sif, my woman and our partner in this adventure.”
“Gods, she’s gorgeous!” cried Breca.
“You’re punching above your weight, cousin,” said Ulf.
Gunnar growled at them, and the two young men bobbed their heads respectfully. Sif, amused, graciously nodded her head.
“I knew there must be some reason my sons were letting the hearth fire heat the whole countryside,” said a wry voice.
A man stood silhouetted in the open doorway.
“Welcome, Foster Son. It is always a joy to see you. And is that Hakon I see with you? Lady, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.
My name is Thorulf, and I wish you welcome.
Boys, mind your responsibilities as hosts. Come inside, everyone!”
Hakon took Sif’s hand then followed the general chaos of bodies into the house.
It was bigger than Hakon remembered. Thorulf had been busy.
I can see why! He was always a quiet man, and those boys would be a lot for a small dwelling.
Inside the house was a smiling Ignetha, who paused in stirring a pot over the fire to hug and kiss her foster son then go on her tiptoes to kiss Hakon then greet Sif and hug her warmly.
“Come around the hearth, and sit down,” Ignetha ordered them briskly. “Ulf, get the bowls and spoons. Breca, make sure everyone has something to drink. Thorulf, you’d better get the dogs settled back down, or they’ll be barking all night.”
Ignetha, a beautiful woman who had aged gracefully, was a serene center in a storm of activity. Finally, everyone was settled, each with a bowl of warm stew and a cup of ale. For a few moments, there was nothing but the sound of hungry people enjoying food.
“So,” said Thorulf finally, “hail, and well met. To what do we owe this delightful surprise?”
Gunnar nodded at Hakon, directing the attention of the room towards his brother. Hakon set down his bowl.
“We follow the fate that Freyja has laid out for us,” said Hakon. “It began with a vision in a dream. Sif?”
Sif took up the tale, telling the assembled people of her dream and her subsequent conversation with Baedi.
“So,” said Ignetha, “you mean to travel on to the Ironwood?”
“That’s the plan,” replied Sif. “So much of this threat is hidden in shadow; we need to discover the nature of what comes. My Elder Sisters see farther than most.”
“Some signs are there for all to see,” observed Thorulf in a low tone.
Hakon frowned. “Go on,” he said.
“This damnable weather, for one,” replied Thorulf. “Grey skies, all day and all night, for a fortnight or more. The more superstitious are already beginning to talk of Ragnarok. They say a great wolf has swallowed the sun.”
“It’s nonsense, Father! It’s just clouds,” protested Ulf.
“So would I say,” agreed Thorulf, “but now there are reports of an orange glow to the north, that can be seen in the night. For myself, I do not think this means the twilight of the gods, but I do wonder what is going on in the North.”
“You know,” said Breca suddenly, “when a barn burns, the rats flee. I wonder what kind of barn might be burning in the North, and what kind of rats are fleeing.”
There was silence as everyone contemplated this thought.
“Whatever this may mean, there is nothing that will trouble us tonight within these walls,” said Ignetha firmly, gathering the empty bowls. “I’m sure it’s been a long day for everyone, and that things will look better in the morning.”
“Yes, Mother,” said Gunnar with a grin, receiving an affectionate clout on the head from his foster mother in response. Before long, everyone had settled down to sleep, the sheer amount of warm bodies driving away the unseasonable cold.