9
Torunn stopped on the path and looked down at the village. She had decisions to make—and demands to make good on. She grimaced as she remembered demanding the life of Bersi Athulfsson. What would she do with him when she had him? The rebel had been a farmer in Laxa, and she had no doubt that he would make a poor slave, probably on purpose.
Hallvard would have to be reminded of his promise of a new house. She could take any house she wanted, or have a new one built. But the longer she stared at Skaro, the more she wanted to be as far away from it as possible. As long as her brother was Jarl, the only thing that she could be certain of was that nothing would be what it was before. All of the carefully laid alliances would be thrown aside for newer, more powerful allies. Hallvard would make enemies of his father’s friends, and friends of the men he despised—and for what?
Torunn felt sick, but her stomach rumbled to remind her that she had not eaten, or slept, since the night before. After the funeral. Then she would sleep.
It was a promise that she did not know if she could keep, but she would try.
The sun rose as she descended the stone steps that led into the village and the noise of the people awakening from the stupor of the night before should have comforted her, but it only made her feel more alone.
She made her way to the shore and stood on the beach to watch the men drag a boat through the shallows. It had been constructed some years ago at her father’s instruction. A ship that would have been large enough to carry twice as many warriors across the sea to raid the rich Saxon churches—it had been completed while her father had been away, and now it would carry him to Valhalla.
She wrapped her arms around herself as she watched them and ignored the tears that slid down her cheek. Her father would have been proud of that ship and its fearsomely carved prow. How the Saxon priests would have trembled when they saw it.
“Torunn… I have been looking for you.”
She wiped her cheek with the edge of her cloak and blinked hard to drive away her tears. “What,” she replied flatly.
Iri stepped into the beach and took up a position beside her on the rocks. “Your brother has been asking for your counsel.”
Torunn snorted. “What does he need my counsel for?”
Hallvard had never cared about her ideas, or anything she might have had to say. Being Jarl would not have changed that.
“He did not say.”
Torunn looked at the boat again. The men strained against the ropes and she did not envy them walking through the frigid water to bring the boat to its moorage. It would be loaded with the Jarl’s stockpiled treasures, animals that had been sacrificed for the journey, and then her father would be laid amid his worldly possessions. There would be dancing, singing, feasting, and drinking, and then the ship would be towed into the center of the bay and set ablaze while the village rejoiced as the great man’s spirit entered Valhalla to join his ancestors.
But Iarund’s words echoed in her mind. This was a hollow ceremony, but why? What did the healer know that he had not said?
She did not doubt that the guards that had challenged her would have reported back to her brother… he would know that she had tried to see their father. He would want to know why. He would want an explanation as to why she wanted her own house—she only had an answer for one of those questions.
“Why did you take the rebel as your slave?” Iri blurted out. His voice was choked and Torunn looked at him in surprise.
“Why does it matter?”
“You were going to kill him.”
“I changed my mind.”
“What else have you decided?”
His words sounded like a challenge, and Torunn didn’t like it. “What does it matter?”
“I want to protect you,” Iri admitted.
Torunn laughed. “Protect me? From what? You haven’t been able to best me in a fight since we were children, and even then—”
Iri’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “And even then, you almost killed me.”
“Then what could you offer me now?” She was genuinely curious; could he be jealous of the rebel? Surely, not.
“I have already said. Protection. From your brothers.”
Torunn’s eyebrow rose. “From my brothers.”
“They are planning something,” he said with a shake of his head.
“I thought you were loyal to the Jarl,” Torunn said suspiciously.
“My Jarl is dead,” Iri snapped.
Torunn nodded and looked back to the ship. The men had secured it to the rocky breakwater that had been built to protect the fleet from winter storms. It bobbed next to the rocks, secured with iron pegs and strong ropes to keep it from breaking away while her father’s possessions were loaded aboard.
“Be careful, Iri Hundolfsson, my brother would not like to hear you say such things.”
Iri snorted and threw a rock into the water. Torunn smiled as it splashed into the waves and she bent to pick up one of her own. The stone was smooth in her fingers and she threw it into the water just beyond where his had landed.
“Always competing.”
“Why not?”
“If you are always chasing something, you will never learn to appreciate what is already around you.”
“You sound like an old woman,” Torunn mocked him. “I would rather look ahead. There is nothing for me here.”
“And what will you do now? Your brother is not happy that you want your own house.”
“I want more than that,” she snapped. “But a house is a start.”
“He will marry you to someone—” Iri said sharply.
Torunn turned to glare at him. “No. He will not.”
“I do not think you’ll have a choice in the matter. Jarl Hallvard will be looking to build alliances.”
“I hate it when you call him that.” Torunn threw another rock at the water with an angry snap of her wrist. “He had better start breeding daughters. I am not for sale.”
“Torunn, I— If you would choose a husband—”
Torunn whirled around and stabbed her finger into Iri’s chest. “Stop talking,” she snapped. “No one will tell me what I must and must not do, especially you.”
Iri’s eyes widened slightly, but he did not back away as she had expected him to. “But you must choose one, or your brothers will choose for you.”
“Get out of my sight,” she snarled.
“The Jarl summoned you—”
“The Jarl can jump naked into the fire for all I care,” she muttered.
“What do I tell him?”
Torunn pushed Iri again and strode away from him toward the village. As much as she wanted to, she would not be able to ignore her brother’s summons. Better to get whatever pain it would cause over with, and better to do it without Iri acting as messenger.
* * *
“Where is he?”
Torunn stood outside the hall where she had left her brothers and their men, but it was empty now. Some of the village women were busy scrubbing down the tables and clearing away the mess of the feast. She didn’t know why they bothered, it would be worse tonight, and the funeral celebrations would begin in earnest in a very short amount of time.