Gunnhild stood, slammed her bowl down, and stalked away into the woods. Oddny knew that no good would come of following her.
The queen still hadn’t returned when the hird began filing to their tents to sleep. Halldor, Oddny, and Eirik were the last ones awake, and when Eirik buckled on his sword, grabbed a lantern, and took his leave of them to seek out his sulking wife, Halldor turned to Oddny and said, “If anyone asks where I’ve gone, cover for me.”
“I’m coming with you,” Oddny said, slinging her healing bag over her shoulder.
“But—”
“Halldor, there’s no part of your past that can scare me off. I promise.” She looked away. “But if this is something you need to do alone, I respect that.”
He stood and offered his hand to pull her to her feet. “Fine. But—whatever you hear tonight, just know that things aren’t that way anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see,” said Halldor vaguely as he led her off into the night. The moon was bright and he hadn’t grabbed a lantern, seeming familiar enough with the terrain, but they could see a small light in the trees and hear snatches of Eirik and Gunnhild’s arguing.
A stick cracked loudly beneath Oddny’s foot. The voices stopped.
“Who’s there?” Eirik asked. Oddny and Halldor held their breath, not daring to move.
“It’s probably just an animal. Don’t be so paranoid,” Gunnhild said.
“Can you blame me, considering where we are?”
Halldor waited until the king and queen were at each other’s throats again before deeming it safe to go on, still holding Oddny’s hand. His own had gone clammy in her grip.
He led her to a place where the trees were spread farther apart, and between them loomed massive piles of earth covered in grass.
“Will he know which one to meet at?” Oddny asked, and Halldor pointed silently at one of the mounds. When they came around the side of it, the man from the market was standing there, alone, holding a lantern.
Halldor opened his mouth to greet him, but stopped short at the look of terror on the man’s face, at the way the lantern’s rope shook in his grip.
“Run,” the man pleaded. “Halldor—run!”
Then he was shoved forward and stumbled. A slimmer man had been standing behind Halldor’s acquaintance, hidden by his bulk, holding a knife at his back.
Halldor released Oddny’s hand and drew his seax. “Oddny, get back.”
Oddny did, as a dozen more men emerged from the darkness to corner them against the mound.
“Come, now. There’s no need for that,” the second man said, leering. He had the same pale eyes and curly light brown hair as the first, and was around the same age, but his face was sharper. He twirled his knife with a flourish before sticking it in the sheath at his belt.
The first man stepped in front of him and begged, “Stop. Please—”
“Get out of my way, Gudrod.” The second man shoved him aside and swaggered forward, and when Gudrod made to follow him, the others stepped forward and held him back.
Halldor’s hand was white-knuckled on his seax, but his tone was flat, almost bored. “You brought twelve men just to collect me, did you, Tryggvi? I’m flattered.”
Tryggvi. Why is that name familiar? Oddny’s sharp memory was failing her.
Tryggvi approached Halldor with a confidence that indicated that he thought the other man harmless as a mouse. That, Oddny thought, was a big mistake. She hoped that Halldor would get the chance to prove it.
“Oh, sheathe your weapon, Halldor,” Tryggvi said, stopping a few paces in front of Oddny and Halldor, and the way he said Halldor’s name—mocking, as though Halldor were a child playing pretend—made Oddny’s blood boil. “You know, when Thorbjorg told me that Eirik and his party had washed up on our shore, she suggested I pay him a visit tonight. You were the last person I expected to see, but ten winters hasn’t been long enough for me to forget you.”
“Would that you had,” Halldor said dangerously. “Let Gudrod go.”
Tryggvi gave him a crooked smile. “My father has plans for you now that he knows you’ve been alive all this time. You’d make for a perfect marriage alliance—I wonder which foreign king he’ll choose to sell you off to.”
Halldor stiffened, and Oddny’s vision burned red.
“How dare you?” Oddny said, stepping out from behind him. “Who do you think you are? And why do you think this father of yours has any control over Halldor’s life?”
Tryggvi’s eyes moved to her. “Watch your tone, woman. You speak to a king’s son.”
Tryggvi Olafsson. That was why his name was familiar—she’d never met him, but she’d heard of him. She turned to Halldor, confused. “But why would Olaf have any power over you? He may be a king, but kings can’t just tell people who to marry, or who to be—”
“She doesn’t know?” Tryggvi asked, smile widening as he raised an eyebrow at Halldor, who bared his teeth in a grimace.
“Know what?” Oddny demanded.
But before either Halldor or Tryggvi could respond, Eirik appeared out of the darkness from the same direction Oddny and Halldor had come, walking around the side of the mound and into the lanternlight. The dozen men Tryggvi had brought with him took a step back as though Eirik were a wolf about to bite. Tryggvi himself stood his ground.
Eirik must have seen us in the woods and followed, Oddny thought. But where’s Gunnhild?
“Tryggvi,” Eirik said by way of a greeting.
“Uncle,” the other man replied pleasantly, hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his hip. “To what do we owe the honor of your visit to Vestfold? My father is offended that you haven’t come to greet him.”
“We were blown off course and landed here by mistake,” Eirik said. “We don’t want any trouble. Take your men and go. We’ll be gone by morning.”
“Given your history, you’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
“We don’t want any trouble,” Eirik repeated, but even as he said it, the rest of the hird began to emerge from the darkness behind him, all armed. Gunnhild was with them, carrying Eirik’s axes. Oddny realized he must’ve sent her to get reinforcements.
Tryggvi backed up a few steps at last, face twisting in contempt; now confronted with twenty armed men to his dozen plus himself, he no longer had anything to smile about. He gestured at his opponents and sneered, “Ah, yes. Obviously, you’ve come in peace. I can see that now.”
“You threatened my hirdsman first,” Eirik ground out. “Walk away and this needn’t come to blows.”
Tryggvi’s eyes widened as they moved from Halldor to Eirik, and then back to Halldor.
Then he began to laugh.
Behind him, Gudrod had stopped struggling, had gone so limp with shock that the men holding him slackened their grip. Halldor would not meet his eyes.
What is going on here? Oddny wanted to scream. From the looks on the faces of Eirik, Gunnhild, and the hird, they were wondering the same thing.
“Is that true?” Gudrod asked Halldor in a small voice. “You’re in his hird?”