Page 37 of Song and Sword
Whatever Gunhilde was about to say was interrupted by a noise at the entrance to the tent. The broad face of Eirik, the Jarl’s councilor, poked into the tent. His expression was a portrait of unhappiness.
“Has the Jarl forgotten something?” Gunhilde asked dryly. “Has he drawn up his accounts and found that we owe him?”
Eirik flushed and turned his gaze downwards. “I am not here on behalf of the Jarl. I speak only for myself.”
“Then speak, young man,” replied Gunhilde. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
The big man appeared in his body language to be trying to make himself smaller. He frowned. “I was wrong, and my Jarl was wrong,” he began. “You and your Sisters have done great deeds and received poor thanks. Worse than that, you were attacked, and by my hand.” Eirik went down to one knee. “My lord has been wrong in his treatment of you, more than once and more than twice. I can no longer serve Jarl Birger. My life is yours. Take it if you wish, or let me live and I will serve you.”
Hakon glanced at Gunhilde and raised an eyebrow; the old witch shook her head and stood, walking over to the former councilor and placing a hand softly on his head. “I have no wish or need for your death, Eirik Norvikson. You may have been a fool, but you were a fool serving a foolish man. There is still room here to do the right thing. Up you get, bigfellow.” Eirik rose to his feet, keeping his head bowed before the Elder Sister.
“We will need aid, and quickly,” said Gunhilde. “Jomsburg must learn of what is happening here in Gotland. You strike me as a resourceful man, Eirik; the kind of man who has his own emergency route planned at all times. Perhaps a quick boat in a hidden cove not far from here?”
Eirik nodded.
“Good fellow,” said Gunhilde. “Take that boat and sail for the Jomsburg as if the very trolls of the sea were behind you. Tell the Jomsvikings that we need their aid, and that if they fail to answer, they may find Gotland to be a charred waste upon their next sailing.”
The councilor’s face was a picture of resolution. “I shall do this thing,” he said stoutly.
“You had better, Eirik Norvikson,” replied Gunhilde, “our lives are in your hands.”
The man nodded once more and left the tent.
Hakon couldn’t restrain himself. “By the gods, you put a great deal of trust in a man who has given us no reason to grant him any.”
The old witch cocked an eyebrow. “Are not the Witches of the Ironwood able to look deeply into the hearts of men? Besides, I hope you realize that will notbe the only attempt I make to contact the Jomsburg. I sent a message bird when we arrived at the gates of Visby and plan to make use of your woman’s remarkable spellsinging talents to attempt a third approach.”
“My woman,” echoed Hakon then paused. “We need to talk about that.”
Sif swallowed, tried to lift her eyes to meet his gaze but found that she could not.
Gunhilde’s expression was carefully neutral. “Indeed. The two of you need to talk. Tell me the results of the discussion when you are done, at least insofar as they relate to the Ironwood and its Sisters.”
Hakon nodded and stood. “Sif, walk with me,” he said and left the tent. Without a word, Sif followed him.
Chapter Eight
Sif eyed Hakon’s broad back as he stalked through the camp. The place was in a state of general chaos, but the warrior did not hesitate or falter. Rather, he went as straight as an arrow to his own tent. He held the flap open for her, and Sif nervously ducked her head and went inside. Hakon laced the tent up behind her and turned to her.
“I know you must be angry,” Sif began, and then went silent as she saw the expression on Hakon’s face. It was not rage—in truth, she was prepared for that. He had every right to be furious. She had pledged him obedience and then had flatly disobeyed him. She knew that she had her reasons, and she felt that they were good ones. But none of them erased the fact that she had disobeyed him.
Anger, then, would not have surprised her. What she was not prepared for, however, was grim sorrow.
Hakon spread his hands. “I do not know what to do,” he confessed. Sif’s heart sank.If this is Hakon declaring an ending of the two of us…it cannot be. My heart would die.She watched the man she loved carefully and listened.
“Sif, I know that you have been given gifts granted only to a very few,” said Hakon. “It is clear that you are fated to have a great destiny. I do not wish to stand in the way of that destiny. It would be madness for me to do so! The sagas are filled with the tales of those who fought their fate and found their bitter ends.”
Sif kept her expression neutral, although she could not help the single tear that trailed down one cheek.
“But, Sif, my love…” Hakon took a deep breath. “I also know that you are mine. I feel it in my bones. You are my woman, and that is just as much your fate as anything else.”
Hope rising, Sif said, “I feel it, too,” in a small voice.
Hakon nodded. “I’m glad. So this is the puzzle that we must unlock. How do we ensure you have the freedom to fulfil your destiny while also honoring the fact that you have pledged yourself to me? These are two ships that seem to be sailing on different seas! How can we bring them together?”
Suddenly, Sif saw it all clearly, like the sun’s light through a ship’s crystal. She knew what she had to do. “There is only one way,” she said, moving to Hakon and kneeling in front of him. “I must trust you and give all of myself to you.” Sif took her warrior’s hand and kissed it. “I place my destiny in your hands, my love. I submit to you utterly and completely. I know that I have a mighty fate before me. I trust you to steer it.” She leaned her cheek into his palm.
Hakon gazed down at her in silence for what felt like a very long time. Sif looked up at him, wondering what thoughts were going through his head. Finally, the warrior nodded once more, and said gravely, “Then I must steer your fate with great care.” He smiled, and Sif’s heart rose. “And I must listen carefully to what you have to say,” he added. Then his face grew stern. “But there must be an accounting, Sif. You disobeyed me.”
