“Give me your sword.”
“My jarl?” I’d never seen Thoryn falter in obeying Eldberg, but a man’s sword was an extension of his arm. With reluctance, he unsheathed it. Thoryn’s had theValknutcarved into the hilt: Odin’s symbol—three interlocking triangles with the power of life over death.
“Stay here, Thoryn. Protect her. Hide her in the forest if necessary—but she’s not to be taken.”
Eldberg flung one last look upon me and was gone.
Thoryn stood frowning, evidently displeased. Casting about, he saw first my wet clothes upon the floor and then another gown, dry and clean, folded to one side. Ragerta must have left it for me.
He threw the towel. “Be swift, Elswyth. I’ll guard the door while you dress.”
I felt as if I could lay down and sleep for a whole day and night, but I worked as quickly as I was able. My fingers tingled strangely, still partly numb, and my hands shook as I laced my bootlets; they were damp from the river, but I needed to be ready. At any moment, Thoryn might insist on moving position, and I’d no wish to go barefoot through the snow.
Outside, the shouts grew louder. I recognised the ring of blade hitting blade. Was it as Rangvald had warned—that the survivors of Svolvaen had called their Bjorgen allies to aid them? And for what purpose had they come? If Eirik were alive, as Ivar had said, was he here? I could scarcely let myself believe it, and yet I hoped.
Thoryn drew out the shiv from his belt, passing it by the hilt. “Take it, and be prepared to use it.”
I’d only used a knife to prepare meat, never to kill anyone. And why would I now? The men of Svolvaen would know me and would never harm me.
But what of Bjorgen’s warriors? They, you’ve never met.
I touched its slender spike.
“Under the ribs, here.” Thoryn pointed. “Push hard, and it’ll go straight through. Or behind if you need to—just the same, into the soft organs.”
He clasped his axe. “I must see how the fight goes. I won’t leave you, but you must be prepared.”
He nodded to me before easing up the latch. Bringing his face close, he peered out through the opening but, in the same instant, the door flung back.
A figure leapt into the room, silhouetted against the fading light, his shield blocking the swing of Thoryn’s blade. The two wrangled, their axes locking as they pushed against one another. Then, Thoryn shouted in surprise. He fell back, lowering his axe.
“Sweyn!”
“Aye, little brother. ’Tis me!” He kicked the door shut, and his gaze passed over me.
I’d shrunk to the far wall, the shiv’s handle tight in my palm, its steel cool, flattened against the back of my wrist.
“Just what I’ve been looking for.”
Thoryn, uncertain, looked from Sweyn to me and back again. “You disappeared without a word. Why, brother? Were we not worthy enough—the men who’ve stood by your side since we first held our wooden swords? You wished so badly to leave us?”
Sweyn narrowed his eyes. “You ask me that? Where was your loyalty when Beornwold died? I was his favourite until Eldberg came. He would have chosen me to take his place—chosen me to marry Bretta. I was our jarl’s second before that berserker scum gained the old man’s trust, but none in Skálavík spoke for my claim. Where was your brotherhood then? Or was that your own jealousy? You’d rather see a stranger rule than bow to me?”
Thoryn shook his head. “So much anger,bróðir. Don’t the gods show us the folly of kin turning on kin?”
“And this one.” Sweyn jerked his head in my direction. “She’s no kin at all, but that matters not. Eldberg knows no loyalty, and nor does she—a whore who makes her bed where it’s softest.”
A dawning awareness seemed to come to Thoryn. “You were looking for her? Did you not think her dead, Sweyn—since you left her so?”
“I had to be sure.” He curled his lip. “Before I slit the throat of the last man of the headland watch, I found out what I needed to know—that the bitch yet lived.”
Thoryn held his axe aloft again, but his face was full of sorrow. “You betrayed us.”
“Aye! And ’twas easy! Those Svolvaen fools believed readily enough that I’d tried to help their precious Elswyth.” His face contorted in a mocking sneer. “So sad that we were separated in the forest!”
Sweyn tossed aside his shield, placing both hands on his axe.
“I’d thought only to find shelter there, but they’re stronger than we realised with their Bjorgen friends. There’s enough of them to take Skálavík— and it’s I who’ll be given command when they do.”
