Oddny had so many questions and not the faintest idea where to start.
The men gave them a wide berth. Oddny could hear the clack of Ozur’s cane on the floor nearby. When Gunnhild looked past Oddny and saw him, she squeezed Oddny’s shoulder and whispered, “Later.”
Then she stood, helped Oddny up, and turned to her father.
“Hello, Papa,” she said. Oddny noticed that the corners of her mouth trembled the way they did when she was small, when she was trying not to cry while being scolded by her mother.
The hersir took a step toward her and whispered, “Is it . . . is it truly . . .?”
“It is,” said Gunnhild. “Your youngest daughter, back from the dead.”
He sprang forward to hug her, managing to hold on to his cane. Oddny saw Gunnhild close her eyes briefly as she gave him a small pat on the back.
“How can this be? Where have you been all this time?” Ozur said, pulling away to stare at Gunnhild’s face before looking over his shoulder to where Eirik now stood. “How did you find her?”
“She found us,” Eirik said, and Oddny did not miss the icy look that passed between Gunnhild and the king. “In Finnmark, on our way back from Bjarmaland. She was most adamant to return home.”
“I can speak for myself,” Gunnhild said testily.
“You’ll have to excuse them, Ozur.” A short, balding young man had elbowed his way into the circle. Oddny recognized him as the king’s foster brother, whose name escaped her. “We’ve been long away from polite company, and these two seem unable to rein in their contempt toward one another for any length of time.” He gave the old man a winning smile. “I’ll see to it that my brother behaves himself, if you’ll ensure your daughter does the same.”
Eirik shook his head slowly, every bit of him promising murder, though the other man remained serene in the face of the threat. Gunnhild rolled her eyes, and Oddny swiped at her tears and fought back a laugh, surprising herself. When was the last time she’d laughed?
“Yes. Yes, of course, Arinbjorn.” Ozur shook himself and cleared his throat. “Come, make yourselves comfortable. Supper should be ready soon.”
He led Gunnhild toward the high seat, with Oddny trailing behind, but Ulfrun intercepted them, her rheumy eyes wet, her thin arms outstretched. Gunnhild fell into her embrace without hesitation.
“Oh, lamb,” Ulfrun murmured, putting her hands on either side of Gunnhild’s face. “You are a sight for these old eyes.”
“I’m so sorry,” Gunnhild said. “You know why I had to go.”
“I do. Oh, dear—your mother is very ill. She’s been sleeping since yesterday afternoon. Do you wish to see her?”
A bit of the light in Gunnhild’s eyes dimmed. “Perhaps when she wakes.”
“Of course, of course.” Ulfrun dropped her hands. “I must go tell Vigdis.”
“Vigdis! Is she well?”
“Thanks to Oddny,” Ulfrun said, “we’re all doing just fine.”
Before following Gunnhild to the high seat, Oddny looked over her shoulder to see Eirik berating Arinbjorn in a low voice, gesticulating furiously, while the latter stared back at him, completely unconcerned. The dark-haired man who’d preceded Gunnhild into the hall was standing awkwardly beside them; he did not take his eyes off Gunnhild as she was led away.
Arinbjorn caught Oddny’s eye and winked just before she turned back around.
* * *
—
IT FELT STRANGE TO Oddny to feast as a guest in Ozur’s hall when she was so used to serving, but Gunnhild insisted Oddny dine beside her on her bench. The two of them, along with Eirik, Arinbjorn, Ozur, and the dark-haired man—whose name Oddny learned was Thorolf—all sat in the section of the hall containing the high seat, talking among themselves.
Ozur told Gunnhild of the raid on Oddny’s farm. Gunnhild did not take this news with any sort of surprise, which seemed to shock her father—and it chilled Oddny, too, but she knew she’d hear the truth when they were able to speak in private.
Then Ozur asked Gunnhild again where she’d been. And she told him.
“But I sent men after the tax collector’s ship,” he said in surprise when she was finished. “They checked every box on board.”
“Heid carved runes on it to hide me from unwelcome eyes,” Gunnhild said simply.
Eirik sat on the platform in front of them, lounging against a post, one leg on the floor and the other bent with his wrist resting atop it, the soft glow of the hearth fires and braziers sharpening the planes of his face. This was a man who was at ease wherever he went, because he knew the world would bow to him simply by virtue of his birth.
Even if she hadn’t known him to be a kinslayer, Oddny would have found him repulsive, and one look at Gunnhild told her that her friend felt the same way. This made her feel infinitely better. What had Signy seen in him?
“Ozur,” Eirik said, standing. “It would please my hird to stay three nights, if that suits you.” That was custom; a longer visit would risk overstaying their welcome unless it had been planned in advance.
Gunnhild leaned over to Oddny and said under her breath, “I would have been here sooner had Eirik not chosen for us to stay three nights with the jarl at Borg. I think he did it just to spite me. Thorolf had to stop me from poisoning him at the feast, I was so angry.”
“It’s not polite to poison people at feasts,” Thorolf returned in kind. “Also, as I’ve told you, we’d been planning on stopping there for three nights anyway. Eirik wished for us to rest a few days with a roof over our heads, and I can’t fault him for that.”
“Don’t defend him,” she hissed.
“I’m part of his hird. It’s literally my job to defend him.” He nudged her, so imperceptibly that Oddny might not have noticed if she hadn’t been looking straight at them. “And don’t tell me you regret spending three extra nights together.”
Ah, Oddny thought, looking back and forth between them. So that was how it was.
“Besides, you’re a witch—could you not have summoned a strong wind to carry us here faster if you were so worried?” he asked.
Gunnhild huffed but said nothing. Oddny didn’t know what to make of any of this, and a look from her friend told her all would be explained later.
“You have my eternal thanks for returning Gunnhild to me,” Ozur said to Eirik. If he’d heard his daughter and Thorolf whispering, he’d ignored them, but Oddny rather doubted he had; the old man’s hearing wasn’t what it used to be. “What do you desire as compensation?”
Eirik looked at Gunnhild, then back at the hersir, and surprised Oddny by saying, “Nothing.”
“Are you certain?” Ozur asked.
“Of course. We came to our own terms. She was no trouble at all.” He smirked at Gunnhild, and she tensed like she wanted to throw her entire bowl of stew at his head.
“Papa, if I may take my leave of you, I wish to go thank Vigdis in person for preparing such a fine feast,” Gunnhild said. Ozur gestured that she was free to go, and after Gunnhild subtly jerked her head at the door, Oddny stood to follow. Gunnhild purposely bumped Eirik with her shoulder as she passed, and he gave her a look of deep disgust, which he quickly wiped away before he turned back to speak to Ozur and the other men.