Eirik was holding two arm rings, and all eyes were on them.
“I’ll make this short so you lot can go back to whatever company you’re keeping tonight,” he said. “I only have two of these to give out this time. One of them, some of you may say is premature. But the other is a long time coming.”
Confused murmurs. These men were new recruits—who could he mean?
Eirik looked up toward the loft and said, “Runfrid, would you come down here, please?”
After a moment of shock, a roar of applause went up from below. “Oh, you must be kidding,” one man said loudly, but he was smiling and clapping with the rest.
“Go!” Oddny said, for the tattooist’s mouth was hanging open, but Oddny’s encouragement roused her and she descended. Arinbjorn waited at the foot of the ladder, beaming, and gave her a big, wet kiss on the cheek even as she pushed him away, laughing, to strut up to Eirik. The crowd parted for her.
Runfrid stopped in front of the king and folded her arms. “Well, well. I may be the best archer in Hordaland, but what makes you think I want to join your silly little boys’ gang?”
This was met with laughter, and Svein and several others yelled, “Boo!” Runfrid waved them off. Eirik raised his eyebrows and made to slowly retract the arm ring, but Runfrid huffed, snatched it out of his hand, and gave him a bear hug. The men cheered again as he patted her on the back, and she fixed the ring on her bicep just above the elbow like the rest of them and headed back to the ladder, avoiding another one of her beloved’s sloppy kisses on her way up.
“You didn’t know that was going to happen, did you?” Oddny asked her once she was in the loft.
“Well, Arinbjorn did tell me that Gunnhild has hassled Eirik once or twice about not having any women in his hird,” Runfrid said with a brief roll of her eyes, “so I was the obvious choice to get her off his back. If there’s one thing I know about Eirik, it’s that he’ll do anything for people to stop bothering him.” She looked down at the arm ring and smiled. “It doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the recognition, though.”
Eirik waited until she was back in her seat before he held up the second arm ring and paced from one end of the line of hopefuls to the other. Some of them were staring eagerly at the king. Others, including Halldor, had their eyes on the floor, barely breathing for their nervousness.
“You’ve all trained well and are welcome to stay and keep improving, but the man I’m choosing to accept into my hird tonight has put even my most seasoned fighters to shame in terms of commitment and enthusiasm in just a few short weeks,” Eirik said as he walked. “If he keeps it up, he should have a long career ahead of him. And I have every confidence that he will.”
He stopped in front of Halldor.
Halldor looked up at him.
Eirik held out the arm ring. “Welcome to the hird.”
The armory exploded once more with cheering. Halldor, stunned, took the ring from Eirik and looked down at it as though he’d never seen such a thing before in his life.
“Now go get drunk!” Eirik called, and his men enthusiastically began to trickle from the armory. But when he made to turn and follow the crowd, Halldor drew him aside, still holding the arm ring instead of putting it on, and they gravitated toward the back door.
Halldor was speaking quickly at first, but then he stopped and looked Eirik in the eye and said something else. Whatever it was, it caused Eirik to step back and look him up and down. Grimacing, Halldor held out the arm ring in one hand, the other hand twitching near the hilt of his seax.
What was going on? Oddny watched with bated breath.
After what seemed like an eternity but in reality was more of a moment, Eirik shook his head, took the arm ring out of Halldor’s hand, fixed it onto Halldor’s arm just above the elbow, and said something that made Halldor’s expression go slack with shock.
Oddny caught only the last thing the king said, for he said it loudly: “And I mean it. Go have a drink, Halldor Hallgrimsson. Tonight is your night.”
Then Eirik clapped him on the shoulder and left through the back door, leaving Halldor staring after him until Runfrid poked her head over the side of the loft and called, “Halldor! I’ve changed my mind. I know you haven’t finished my arrows, but I’ll do your tattoo tonight anyway. Just give me a moment to set up—and go fetch me a bucket of clean boiled water from the cookhouse, yes?”
Halldor regained himself. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and ducked out the door.
After a moment, Oddny scrambled down the ladder and followed him.
“Halldor,” she called, and he stopped and turned just before entering the cookhouse, which was quiet inside, as if the place were breathing a sigh of relief that the feast days were at an end.
“Yes?” Halldor asked.
“Congratulations,” Oddny managed, a beat too late for comfort.
“Thank you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It was—unexpected.”
“What happened just now?” she asked before she could stop herself. “With Eirik?”
“You saw that?” Halldor shifted. “It was—I told him something very personal to me. Something that some people might feel was a deception. And I needed to know if he was one of those people, because it’s not a deception—it’s who I am. But he—” He looked down at the arm ring as if surprised to see that it hadn’t vanished into thin air. “He understood.”
“Oh. Well, good,” Oddny said half-heartedly, not understanding herself. Halldor went into the cookhouse and she stood outside until he emerged with the bucket of water. At the sight of her waiting there for him, he sighed.
“I’m not trying to be vague on purpose,” he said. “But it’s between us.”
“I know.” Oddny toed the dirt with the tip of her worn leather shoe. “I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that I was worried.”
“You were?”
“Yes. Despite everything, I—” The confession stuck in her throat, and she splayed her hands as she finally dislodged the words: “I care what happens to you.”
He stared at her for what felt like a lifetime before giving her a wry half smile. “Right. Because I owe you a debt.”
Oddny felt a prick of irritation, same as she had in the armory when he’d disclaimed how he’d gotten the clothes he was wearing, thinking she was coming to scold him for the crime of having new things when he owed her silver. “It’s not about that. I don’t care about the debt.”
“Wait. What?” Halldor put the bucket down. “So I don’t have to pay you back?”
“No. I mean, yes, you do!” Oddny huffed, folding her arms, flustered. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“Do I?” Halldor asked mildly as he folded his arms as well. “You just said you don’t care about it.”
“I told you, that’s not what I—” She squinted at him. “Oh. I see. You’re jesting, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know, am I?”
Oddny sighed. Here she was, trying to get it off her chest that she was fond of him, only for him to deflect it by bringing up that godsforsaken debt yet again. But why had deflection been his reaction at all? Maybe he didn’t feel the same way about her and didn’t want to talk about it, and it was easier to change the subject than hurt her feelings.