“Then it’s a good thing I’m not going to battle,” Gunnhild said dismissively.
Oddny slid a small flat clay pot containing a healing salve over to her. Gunnhild took it, thanked her, and smeared its contents over the cuts on the back of her hand. Oddny hedged: “I’m guessing you’re making it for yourself, because you’re afraid of—of what happened on the ship on the way here? Are you still having the dreams?”
“Less so these days.” Gunnhild re-covered the pot with its waxed linen topper, and slid it back to her. “And no, I’m not afraid. It’s just a precaution.” As if eager for a change of subject, she cast a look at the two bedrolls sitting in the corner of the loft and gave Oddny a knowing smile. “Saeunn says you don’t sleep in the workshop so often anymore.”
Heat crept up Oddny’s neck. “That’s true.”
Gunnhild scooted across the floor to her and took her hand. “I’m happy for you, Oddny. I really am. I know I wasn’t sure if we could trust Halldor at first, but I trust your judgment.” She waggled her eyebrows. “If you’d like to trade details, just say the word.”
Oddny flushed but decided to say nothing. The privilege of getting to know the person she lay with before bedding them was one she knew many people weren’t granted, and that made her cherish it all the more—enough to keep it close. It felt better that way, like something precious, a joy that was only hers and Halldor’s to know. Telling another of their most private moments would feel too strange, even if that person were her best friend.
“If it’s all the same, I’d rather not. But it’s been—good.” Oddny couldn’t help but return her smile. “Very good.”
“To each their own,” Gunnhild said. “Do you think he’ll marry you? He has no reason not to, if you two are getting along so well.”
Oddny felt a twinge in her chest. “I hope so, maybe, one day. We haven’t spoken of it.”
Gunnhild sat back, thoughtful. “What do you think Signy will say when she sees you two together? She’ll definitely remember him, even if it’s just as the man Kolfinna tossed overboard.”
Oddny grimaced. Gunnhild often spoke of Signy as though she were going to be waiting at the docks at Birka when they arrived. As though Birka were their final destination and not merely a starting point for the search. Oddny, on the other hand, remained more realistic. She knew it could take all summer to find Signy—longer, if Kolfinna and her crew had already set off on the raids by the time Oddny and Gunnhild arrived.
“I’ve thought about that. We’ll have to be careful about how we tell her,” Oddny said uneasily. “But I’m happy for you, too, Gunna. I know I had my doubts about Eirik, too, but it turns out he’s not exactly as he seemed, is he? And here I’d thought that a man like him couldn’t be changed by a tender hand.”
Gunnhild was quiet for some time, gathering her thoughts.
“I don’t think it’s as easy as that,” she said at last. “He’s lived his life at the edge of a blade, and it’s difficult to let others see him be soft. I don’t know if that will ever change. Sometimes I feel we’re getting somewhere, other times less so. But winter is a time for rest, and summer for action, so winter’s end will be the real test.”
Oddny glanced out the smoke hole in the gable to where the men were sparring on the snowy practice field. “I suppose you’re right.”
A moment after she looked away, a cry went up from the yard and little Hakon shrieked, “Halldor! Yay, Halldor!” as the dogs barked. Oddny looked again just in time to see Halldor helping Eirik up, and her breath caught.
“What?” Gunnhild asked, scrambling over to look as well. “What’s happened?”
“I think Halldor just won a round against Eirik,” Oddny said.
“I— Well, then. I suppose his footwork must’ve improved after all. Good for him.” An odd look crossed Gunnhild’s face before her mouth curved into a suggestive smile. “Congratulate him well tonight, will you?” to which Oddny responded by elbowing her lightly in the ribs.
Gunnhild took her leave soon after. Oddny worked through supper, preparing a batch of tea to help one of the carpenters’ wives with the nausea brought on by pregnancy, and even after she’d lit Runfrid’s candles, she hadn’t realized how late in the day it had become until she heard the men below file in from supper, and Halldor ascended the ladder, balancing a stew bowl in one hand.
Once he’d crawled into the loft, he gave her a peck on the lips and sat down cross-legged beside her.
“Thank you,” Oddny said, reaching for the bowl.
Halldor held it away from her and looked at her in exaggerated surprise. “Who said this was for you? Go get your own.”
“Stop jesting and hand it over.”
He did, smirking. “You’ve been busy up here, I take it? I wondered when I didn’t see you in the hall.”
“I’ve been very busy, yes. Did you truly beat Eirik today during practice?”
“I did. Barely. And just the once.”
“That counts for something, doesn’t it?” Oddny stuffed a spoonful of meat and turnip into her mouth and looked at him in profile. She’d freshly shaved the salmon tattoo again the night before, and now she nodded at it. “Are you ever going to tell me its significance, Halldor Salmon-head?”
“Maybe one day, Oddny Coal-brow,” he said, which was the same answer he’d given her the last time she’d asked. He leaned against the chest behind him as she ate. When she finished, she put the bowl aside and rested her head on his shoulder, and he put an arm around her. Below, several of the hirdsmen were playing dice, and while their noise usually drowned out whatever she and Halldor got up to in the loft, tonight she wished for a bit of peace and quiet. No wonder Runfrid had complained when the hird had returned from the raids.
“What are you thinking about?” Oddny asked him at length. It was a common question they posed to each other, both being prone to long, comfortable silences.
“I was thinking . . .” Halldor looked down at the arm ring on his bicep. “Eirik has been talking about making the royal progress after Birka this summer instead of raiding. Which means that it might take me more than one season to make what I owe you.”
Oddny smiled. “What a shame. We’ll have to deal with each other for a little longer.”
“And I was thinking,” he went on, “that even though Eirik would never admit it, I have a feeling that his raiding days are over, or near to it. His father is getting on in years, and it’s time for Eirik to actually act like a king. So I thought that I might get better at smithing, pay off your debt that way, and stay in the hird.”
“You know, I really don’t care about the debt—”
“Oddny, I’m being serious. I mean to pay you back.”
“Well, if you’re going to be stubborn about it, we can always just call it my bride-price.”
The words had come out before she could fully think about their implications, and her eyes went wide when she realized what she’d just said. Halldor slipped his arm from around her shoulders and pulled away to stare at her.