Chapter 4
The cold moons had passed in preparation, and now, with the last of the spring thaw upon them, Torstein's thirty-two oar snekkja and fastest ship on the sea sat low in the water, his hand-selected crew working steadily around her.
The quay was a hive of activity. Torstein checked the lashings on his sea chest and would check them once more before they sailed regardless. Around him the yard was loud with the sound of men in motion, barrels rolling toward the cart, oilcloth bundles stacked and counted.
Torstein was aware of Leif approaching before he heard him.
"Looking forward to our grand adventure, Torstein Hagansson?" Leif asked.
"Is it writ so plain upon my face?"
"Only to those who know ye well." Leif joined him at the cart.
Torstein and his men were always in good spirits when the call of the ocean was about to be answered.
They'd spent a long hard winter training, learning languages and customs with Brother Aiden, stocking supplies and mapping out sea routes.
Torstein had studied hard, and together with Jarl Thorfinn they had laid out several contingency plans to ensure a successful mission.
But it had not been the training that made the winter long. It had been the unwanted attention of a persistent female.
Estrid Kolbeinsdóttir had made herself a fixture of the cold moons, turning up wherever Torstein happened to be.
At the forge when he came to collect mended blades.
At the hall when he sat to eat. Once at the very threshold of his own homestead.
She had plied all manner of tricks through those long dark months to become his bed mate, and each rejection had only sharpened her resolve.
Twice Njal had turned her away from the path to Hrafnaklett, Torstein's homestead.
Mathias had even caught her paying serving women coin to report on Torstein's comings and goings and listen in on private conversation.
That last had unsettled Torstein more than he let show. A woman who paid for a man's secrets was a threat.
"There you are." A woman's voice rang out amongst the din.
The voice made both men turn.
Estrid approached across the yard, her long blonde hair plaited with leather ribbons, her body encased in the finest garments that accentuated her curves, her smile fixed on Torstein.
Leif cleared his throat. "Caution, chief." He caught Torstein's eye briefly. "I'll not go far, but you need to watch that one." He departed, giving Estrid a slight nod.
Torstein kept his expression neutral.
Estrid stepped closer. "My father hosts a feast in the hall tonight, Torstein. He would be honored if you attended before your departure. As would I." Her hand found his arm. Light. Deliberate.
"We leave before the tide turns," Torstein replied, stepping back. "Pray, bear my regrets to thy father."
Irritation crossed her face. "Ever duties. Ever regrets." Her voice sharpened. "The skalds make verses about it, you know. They whisper you think your blood too fine for an Orkney shield-maiden."
"What fills my thoughts is not for your ears," he replied quietly.
She moved closer still, her voice dropping. "I could drive these strange thoughts from your mind, Torstein. Share my bed tonight before you leave. There need not be any promises made."
Torstein was not falling into that trap.
He had heard the cautionary tales, warriors waking drugged with no memory of the night before, and a woman's kin at the door the next morning speaking of oaths sworn.
One night, and a woman like Estrid could claim she carried his child, and he would be hard pressed to disprove it from across the sea.
"The answer is still no."
"Ever you refuse me." She leaned in, and her voice dropped beneath the din.
"You wound me, Torstein. I only wish to see to your needs.
We are well suited, you and I, and you know it.
My father's sword-oath alongside yours, strong sons I can provide for you.
What more could a man want than what I lay at your feet? "
That is precisely the trouble, he thought. You lay it at my feet, and I have never once had to reach for it. But he said none of that. Torstein only looked at her, and as beautiful as she was, he felt nothing.
"You are worthy of a man who desires you completely, Estrid. I am not that man. I never will be."
Her jaw tightened, and for a moment her expression went hard and cold. "Countless men would be proud to have me as their wife."
"Then you should pursue them and stop wasting your time on me."
"No other man has ever refused me before."
"Then I am sorry to be your first failure."
"Why must you constantly reject me so publicly?"
"Estrid. If you insist on making unwanted advances in front of a crowd, then ye should be prepared for the result."
"So 'tis true." Her laugh was bitter and mocking. "You still believe a woman born under different stars is the other half of your soul. You clutch at a dead crone's mutterings. Brynhild's been cold in the ground these ten years, Torstein. Her prophecies died with her."
Anger flared in Torstein's chest, sharp and unexpected.
There it was, the fruit of her digging into his private matters.
She had bought and bribed and pried until she uncovered the one thing he had told no one save his closest kin, the old healer's premonition, and now she threw the words back at him like stones.
He could never marry a woman who mocked what he held sacred, however little sense it made to anyone else.
Estrid placed both hands on his chest. "I am flesh and blood and willing. With me by your side, you could rise higher still." Her voice went soft. Pleading. "What more could you want?"
He caught her wrists and removed her hands. "Enough! My patience is at an end. All this winter I have tried to be gentle and save you from ridicule, but you have not once given me the same courtesy."
Her composure broke entirely. "You will regret this.
My father is not a man to suffer his daughter slighted before the whole of Orkney, and he has the jarl's ear as surely as you do.
" Her eyes glittered. "I do not accept your rejection.
Listen well, Torstein Hagansson. Upon your return, you will have no choice but to accept me as your wife. One way or another!"
Torstein clasped her arm then and warned her in a low voice, "Do not make the mistake of threatening me, Estrid. I am not a man to cross, no matter how high born your status! And I would die before I allowed anyone to control my future."
He released her and glared at her with cold dark eyes.
Estrid muttered several loud curses before storming away.
Torstein watched her go with unease. A rejected woman's fury he could weather. But a rejected woman with a powerful nobleman for a father, who indulged his daughter, was dangerous. He turned back to the cart, checked the lashings one final time, and tried to let it go.
It was then that Jarl Thorfinn came down the length of the quay to find him. The two of them walked toward the far end of the dock where the harbor opened out to gray Atlantic water.
"Remember, ye go as merchant traders, not as warriors. Retrieve that parcel, stay clear of the Brotherhood, and return home safe."
"Aye, it shall be done."
"Perhaps when you return, ye'll be in a better mind to settle down and raise a family."
Torstein stiffened. "What have you heard? Has someone approached you about my future?"
"There are those who are impatient to merge their house with yours. One has found reason to speak with me of late, and place pressure on you to accept. This voyage will help clear your head."
Torstein clenched his fist. So it was as he feared. Estrid had not been threatening idly. Her father Kolbein Ottarsson had already been in the jarl's ear. He hated that wretched family more with every breath.
"I ask simply that no man steal my choice to decide my destiny for myself. Nor any woman."
"I would not dream of it," Thorfinn replied. "But choices left unguarded have a way of being made by others, Torstein. Remain vigilant."
He clasped his shoulder once, then bid him and his men fair weather and safe travels on the morn. Torstein stood a moment and watched him go.
After the last of their supplies were loaded, and the ship checked over one more time, Torstein and his men returned to their homes and families to spend a final night before their long journey.
***
PEOPLE CAME TO SEE them off early the following morning.
His mother Runa fussed over him as if he were still a boy, and he let her do it because it calmed her fears.
His father Hagan gave him as much advice as he could manage, then wished him good sailing.
He loved his parents, and as their only son he promised he would return.
Njal and Leif and his men were also making their farewells to their families.
Nearby, Mathias was disentangling himself from a maiden who wept openly at his leaving, pressing some token into his hands and begging him not to forget her.
Mathias was comforting her and whispering words of affection.
Torstein refrained from rolling his eyes.
He knew Mathias would forget the lass the moment the first oar hit the water.
Finally, it was time to leave.
The salt-laden wind whipped Torstein's golden hair across his face as he stood on the deck of his snekkja. His trusted crew waited, ready to act on his command. The scent of salt and ice filled his lungs.
He drew in a deep breath then shouted loud and clear, "Róum! Let us row." The crew shouted "Hó!" on the first pull and the snekkja began to move.
He searched the horizon, watching the vast expanse of ocean, and felt the pull of the sea deep within his veins. As the ship cut through icy waters, Torstein felt exhilarated. His heartbeat quickened with anticipation. Behind him Orkney shrank into the gray.
Without realizing it, Torstein's lips moved as he whispered the words to the vast ocean. "Wait for me. I am coming for you."
Then he and his men set sail for Morocco.
***