Back in Birka the town is having horse races on the beach. Then there will be horse fighting, which is as dangerous for the spectators as it is for the competitors, and demonstrations of fighting with weapons. It’s the summer games—and all of it is ending soon. Swimming races are already long over, as are boating races. We can’t hear any of the commotion, because we are now far from town, out in the sea, going south with the wind. But I know what’s happening. The same thing happens in Heiðabý when summer ends.
Jofrid is at the helm, which means there is not much for me to do as first in command; I can give up control. I press my forehead against the mast and close my eyes. My sister is with a Viking named Hoskuld—she’s his concubine—in a country so inhospitable it is called Ísland. But Eire must be our first stop. The three Irish girls have been promised delivery home, and I keep promises.
Mel. Sometimes I have felt as though I made up my whole history—a tall tale that a skald like Beorn might tell. The only one who knew it was true was me, and that alone made it suspect. But now Gilli confirmed it. He confirmed that I jumped into the water and a boy jumped too. He confirmed that Mel exists.
She lives in Ísland.
She is a concubine.
Someone throws an arm around me. In surprised gratitude, I turn to find Sibbe there. We lean into the wind.
Sibbe and Thyra played their parts perfectly. They waited until they felt sure we were far, and then they set to screaming as though Gilli were murdering them. A trader nearby came to see what was up, and the girls accused Gilli of molesting them. The trader, a Norseman, was disgusted; in his eyes Gilli was a dirty Russian and Sibbe and Thyra were fine Norse girls. Such an attack couldn’t be allowed. An argument commenced; other traders were drawn into it. Sibbe and Thyra escaped in the confusion.
We are gone. Free. And I have the information I’ve been searching for all these months . . . no, all these years. What now?
I pull away from Sibbe. “What now?”
“Let’s put the question to everyone,” she says.
And so, when we harbor the ship for the night, we have a talk. It is so much like my idea of a þing assembly that I cannot help but think how very Norse I have become. I’ve grown up in Norse country.
The discussion is brief.
Everyone is ready to go to Eire. No one is ready to go to Ísland.
The first voyage—to Eire—requires travel that can be largely close to land, with perhaps at most a single day at any given time totally at sea. And though my crew cannot talk with the Irish girls we rescued from Gilli’s clutches, the physical presence of them is compelling; they want to see these girls get home safely. Besides, Jofrid would scold anyone who suggested we go back on a promise—and no one wants to be scolded by Jofrid.
The second voyage—to Ísland—requires days if not weeks of sea travel after leaving Eire. And all that long time without land in sight. With storms that can flip a boat. In a season where the sky could dump snow at any moment. All for a woman, Mel, who is nothing but an idea to them.
So we make a pact. And I pay everyone from hoard coins—all but the Irish girls.
We will go to Eire now. Before winter sets in. We will return the girls to their homes. And we will winter with their families. We are all able; we can contribute in useful ways to the life of their ringforts.
Then, early next spring, the ship—this ship that has become so much a part of me—will return to the Baltic. The crew will gradually disperse, choosing where to live. Perhaps Heiðabý, Ribe, Birka. These are the names that come up. Big cities seem safest for maintaining control over their own lives. No one wants to work in a small settlement for the rich farmer who makes them do all the heavy labor. In a city some of them can pool their resources and maybe set up a shop. Maybe even become traders. Ha! They know so much about trading by now. And I will sell this boat and take a job on one of the giant seafaring ships to Ísland. If I disguise myself as a man, someone’s sure to take me on.
It is a fair plan.
Then we eat fish and plums, the first plums of the season, yellowish inside, with deep pink staining the flesh around the pit. I suck on the pits till it hurts the roof of my mouth, all sweet and hard together. The hunt for news of Mel is finally over, and I have these women to thank for that. What a marvel they have become. They navigate by sun and stars. They know the tides and currents and the migratory patterns of birds. They wield swords and axes, and so many of them are superb archers now—all of them as good as Skaði, the hunter giant. They have done everything I could have hoped for. And all of them are proud of themselves for it, not just Grima—all of them revel in their new skills. I will miss them terribly.
I wrap a silk scarf around my neck, red with gold embroidery. It could be from China. Or Byzantium. Everything can be bought at Birka. Everyone can be bought at Birka.
Just as in Heiðabý.
This is the way of the world. I think of the man who taught me that phrase.
Ragnhild is on duty tonight. She stares at the moon.
I watch the black lapping of the waves. It is insistent, so regular, so normal—it is the way of the world. Everything is the way of the world. I feel without power. I move beside Ragnhild. “Will you go back to him?” I whisper.
She doesn’t ask who. “I never had any other plan.”
She is so free in her passion—so clean and wonderful. I stuff my mouth with the back of my hand. Alf. Good Lord, my thighs tremble. I feel like a draug—a ghost—as though I’ve seen my own death and it’s too late. Inside my chest, something shatters.
But something else is whole and right. I realize I love this boat. The very ship itself. It is slender and flexible. The keel is made from a single timber, so it moves with the water. The overlapping planks are riveted together perfectly. The sail is huge and strong. The rudder is just the right size to steer us properly. The mast, seated in a huge block of timber, couldn’t be knocked over by anything. This is a perfect boat for travel to Eire. And next spring, after the others have left, I will board another wonderful boat for travel to Ísland. I have become a woman of the sea.
I may have given up Alf, but I will find my sister.