CHAPTER TEN

‘You’ve been hiding something from me,’ said Haldan.

Inga levelled her gaze straight back at him, trying to blend ignorance and innocence in her face. Her uncle sat, stern as ever, in his oversized chair, behind his oversized table, in his oversized chamber. He’d summoned her direct from work. She wiped her fingers, still greasy from goat’s dugs, uneasily on her apron.

She had never liked this part of the hall – the walls were covered in death: polished blades, honed edges; battered shields, splattered with rusty stains that could only be one thing.

She couldn’t remember laughing in this place, and it only took the musky smell of skins and smoke to make her feel guilty. She braced herself. If her uncle had somehow learned their secret, her world was about to end.

‘Well?’

‘Hiding something?’ Inga fiddled with her apron. Perhaps his head will erupt like the fire mountains in Tolla’s stories.

‘You had a visitor when we were away.’

‘A visitor?’ A bad job of feigning ignorance, but inside she was collapsing in relief. Anything was better than him discovering their secret. ‘No—’

‘I know the Karlung boy was here.’

Her cheeks flushed. ‘How?’ Einna or Tolla must have blabbed. If it was that little Einnaling, she’s going to get such a slapping!

‘From his father. What was he doing here?’ ‘Who?’

‘Konur, of course!’

‘He said he had some business with you,’ she garbled. ‘But when he found you weren’t here, he left.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Inga cobbled an answer. ‘I thought after the trouble between Konur and Hakan at the feast. . . I didn’t want to spoil your return. We were just so relieved you’d returned.’

Haldan looked unconvinced. ‘Speak truthfully, Inga. Are you in love with this boy?’

‘In love with him!’ she exclaimed, in disgust. ‘No. Not at all.’

Haldan grunted irritably. ‘Pity.’

‘Pity? Why pity?’

Haldan folded his hands, eyeing her in that serious way he had. ‘When the winter thaws, you will be of an age to wed.’

Please, sweet Freya, no. . .

‘I have come to an agreement on a match for you.’

‘No!’ she blurted. ‘I—’

‘Konur is a man of good prospects.’

‘No. . . no,’ she quavered, shrinking back, clasping herself, as if retreating from a black abyss opening at her feet.

‘What’s wrong with him? He’s fine-looking, of high blood and good lands. You’d have to fare a long way to find a better match than him.’

‘Please, Uncle! I don’t care about his looks, or his land, or if his blood runs back through a hundred fathers. I’d rather marry a toad!’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘I hate him. I loathe him.’

‘Is this about the trouble with Hakan?’

‘No, not that. Or not just that, I. . .’ Her words faltered. She felt abashed; ashamed somehow to tell. She still couldn’t squeeze out the splinter of doubt that she had brought what he did upon herself. But that was wrong – it must be wrong – and that only made her angrier. Konur was the one who should be ashamed, not her. ‘I won’t marry him!’

‘I don’t see the problem,’ he said, dismissive. ‘Besides, this isn’t a choice. This is how it will be. More depends on this than the whimsy of a young girl.’

Suddenly she boiled with the unfairness of it. ‘That’s all I am to you, aren’t I? Some bothersome little girl.’ Hot tears of anger welled in her eyes, but she didn’t care. ‘That’s all I’ve ever been! And now you want to be rid of me at the first chance you get – just like that.’ She snapped her fingers in his face. He snatched her hand, quick as a snake, but his face remained cold as stone.

‘You know, you’re more than that.’ His hand crushed hers.

‘Is that supposed to be affection?’ she snapped, prising her hand free. ‘You’re blind if you don’t see how you treat me.’ He had to hear this. It was past time. ‘Your heart is ice to everyone. Everyone except your precious Chosen Son.’

‘I suggest you calm down.’ Warning flashed in his eyes.

‘Why should I?’ she cried. ‘Because you don’t like to hear the truth?’ She leaned in, seeing it was getting to him. Even to him. ‘Did you hate my mother so much? Did you hate that your brother loved her so much more than he loved you? Were you so resentful that she dumped her child on you? How thoughtless of her just to die!’

‘You know nothing of—’

‘I’m not finished!’ she screamed. ‘You don’t know what it’s like. You’re the closest thing I have to a father and you show more love to your dogs than you do me.’ The tears were streaming now. ‘I didn’t want much. I knew my place. But you’ve given me nothing. Nothing in there.’ She pointed accusingly at the hole where his heart should have been. ‘And now this!’ Her fists crashed down on the table. ‘You pack me off with the first fool who comes asking!’

His reply was white rage. ‘You’ve been treated no different from my son. I’ve provided for you since the day you were born. You had everything you ever needed.’

‘Don’t you see – I needed you!’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, you’ve provided – yes. Just like you throw scraps to your pigs. They’re provided for – but do you love them? I only wanted what anyone would: a father’s love. A mother’s touch. Instead I have an uncle who’d rather grasp a nettle than put his arm around me.’ She wiped her streaming nose, drawing breath.

For a moment, she saw a glimmer of shame pass over his face. But then it was gone, the lines round his mouth hardening once more. ‘You’re upset so I shall overlook the way you speak—’

‘Stop being so cold!’

Without warning, he sprang from his cavernous chair, like a carving come to life, slamming his fists on the table. ‘Sit down and shut your mouth!’

She cowered back, scared as if he’d been a wild bear. ‘You can scream and whine all you want. The match is agreed. Each of us has duties to fulfil – we don’t always like it, but we do them. This, my girl, is yours.’

She shrank back onto her stool. When she spoke again, it was very quiet, her voice stiff with sullen defiance. ‘I won’t be part of your squalid little agreement. And no power in the Nine Worlds will get me to marry Konur.’

‘You’ll do as you’re—’

‘He’s a rapist!’ This time, she sprang to her feet. The word shook the walls of the chamber. ‘Do you understand? He tried to rape me.’

She watched his eyes blink – twice, three times. And then he sank back into his chair.

‘Rape you?’ he murmured.

‘He would have succeeded. Only I stabbed him.’ She pulled out the hairpin, spilling her curls about her shoulders. ‘With this.’ She proffered it.

He took it, turning it over, his face lost between bewilderment and admiration.

‘I’ll do it again if he comes near me.’

He laid the pin down and, after looking long into her tearful eyes, rose and went to her. She stood, motionless. Surprised. Gently, he folded her in his arms, her nostrils filling with the manly tang of his sweat. Her cheek pressed tight against his chest. She closed her eyes, savouring his big hands clasping her tight.

Why couldn’t it be like this all the time? She felt safe there. She thought about the life inside her – the life that she, in turn, must safeguard. Maybe I could tell him about us. About all of us. Maybe he would understand.

‘What happened?’ he said softly.

And so she told him. Everything that had happened with Konur fell out of her in a tumble of words.

‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’

‘I would have. . . but I knew if I did, Hakan would find out. . . and he seems to hate him so much. I couldn’t risk the trouble that might come from that.’ She sniffed. ‘And the truth is . . . I felt ashamed.’

He tilted her face. She marvelled how tender those blue eyes could look, if only he’d let them. ‘You have nothing to be ashamed of.’ The lines in his face seemed softer than she ever remembered. ‘Truly.’

‘I know I was naive. . . I could have done more. To turn him away.’ She buried her face in his chest again. ‘Oh, Uncle, I wish he’d never come here.’

More tears came, and she heard him murmuring, ‘It’s all right. It will be all right.’

‘Then I don’t have to marry him?’ Please, sweet Freya, please.

She felt his chest rise and fall. And again. But he said nothing. She felt only the beating of his heart. Abruptly, she pulled away from him. ‘I don’t, do I?’ Her voice was shaking.

Slowly, his arms withdrew. ‘It’s not as simple as that.’

‘Not simple?’ she gaped. ‘Just send word to Karlsted! Tell them your agreement is done with! That I’ll have nothing to do with that rat.’

‘I know he hurt you,’ he tried to soothe her, but every word was grinding metal. ‘I will get assurances from his father – aye, from the lad himself – that it will never happen again.’ She backed away, heart pounding, his hulking form dissolving into a blur. ‘I will make them guarantee—’

‘No, no, no, NO!’ she stammered, feeling like a drowning woman slipping under.

But he continued speaking. ‘I gave my word. This isn’t only about a husband for you. I must consider what dangers are rising against our people. This is about all our futures. That must come before any. . . misunderstanding between you and Konur.’

My ears must be lying.

‘A misunderstanding? He tried to rape me!’ Her mouth twisted into a sneer. ‘You don’t care, do you? Oh, I see you clear now, Uncle. Sure, you’re a proud lord – don’t we all know it!’ Her lips were white with fury. ‘But you’re also a monster – a monster! – who would sacrifice everything to your precious honour and your precious blood.’

She nearly said it. Nearly screamed the words in his unwavering face. Your son’s bastard is growing in my belly!

But something held her back.

Maybe it was knowing he would only trample over that, as he did over everything. Or the promise made to Hakan, to guard their secret as long as she could. Or maybe it was because their secret was the last precious thing she had left in the world. She couldn’t face losing that as well.

‘Monster,’ was all she whispered.

But his mask had fallen back in place, those shadows settling on his features, dark as thunder.

If he meant to reply, she didn’t wait to hear it. Instead, she turned and ran from the chamber. Yet even as she ran, she longed for him to follow, hoped that he would call her name, beg her to come back, ask for her forgiveness with tears in his eyes, tell her he loved her and that all would be well.

But there were no footsteps. No call. Only the silence. . . Only the invisible hands that coiled around her throat, squeezing the hope out of her.

The rain dripped steady over the crackling flames. Dank smells, of sodden furs and the black earth, mingled with the scent of their stew. The same as every night: rabbit with onions and marjoram, thickened with stale bread. Hardly the fare of kings but it filled a hole.

Enough for five of them at least, hunkered over their bowls. But Hakan wasn’t eating. His belly was already brimful of bile, his mind with the word he couldn’t shake.

Murder.

He pushed it away. And away and away. But back it came, unbidden, relentless, till at last he let it stay. Ugly, sinister, shameful. He glared at it. The word glared back, accusing him.

Sighing for him.

This was his father’s fault. Did the old man value Inga so little that he could even imagine agreeing to this? If Konur had forced himself on her, he deserved to die. And if he hadn’t. . . No – it couldn’t have been like that. . .

Yet the doubt remained. It was his child in her belly, so she said. Did he have to doubt even that now? He stirred the stew in his bowl, remembering Inga’s face – so urgent, so honest, tears in her eyes. Could she lie so easily? Am I really such a fool?

He cursed inwardly. By force or betrayal – it mattered little. If that Karlung bastard had taken what was his, he had a reckoning coming. A storm of blood, and afterwards, Hakan knew, a feud that was like to live long after he was dead and gone. His father would rage, but he would have to stand behind him.

No one else could have Inga.

No one.

The others began tossing a few words to each other – complaining about the rain and the autumn chill. Hakan hadn’t taken a mouthful.

‘Not touching your food?’ Dag nodded at his bowl, eyes glimmering, half-amused. Hakan only grunted in reply and lifted his spoon.

‘Give it over then,’ piped Aldi, offering an empty bowl.

‘Leave him be.’ Dag shoved away the lad’s eager hands. ‘Hate can fuel a man a while, but he still needs to eat.’

‘Who says I hate anyone?’

‘It’s seeping out of you.’ Dag sucked in deep through sharp nostrils. ‘You reek of it.’

‘It’s no business of yours.’

Dag sniffed. ‘Hate has a way of breaking out of a man. When it does, there’s like to be some killing. Reckon that’s my business, don’t you?’

‘Killing? I hadn’t even thought of it.’ Only about half a hundred times.

‘You’re a bad liar. Even for the son of a lord.’

Hakan threw his spoon in his bowl with a rattle. ‘So I hate the worthless prick. So what?’

‘You have your reasons.’

‘Aye – I’ve plenty.’ He kicked at the dirt. ‘But it’s under control. After all, I promised my father.’

Though why the Hel I should do anything for him right now. . .

‘Maybe you made the old fella a promise. But in my experience, a promise ain’t worth a soft turd.’ Dag picked absently at his teeth with a long, dirty fingernail. ‘Under control – hah! That’s a good one.’ He glared at Hakan, the shadows in his eyes deepening. ‘You know what hate is, boy?’

Hakan shook his head.

‘Hate is chaos. Wild as a wolf, she is. Loose her on the world, and blood will run just about anywhere.’

‘I guess I’ll keep her fettered then. Good and tight.’ Hakan went back to his food. I’m no murderer.

‘Maybe. For now. But one day, all the fetters in the Nine Worlds will break.’

‘The Ragnarok,’ muttered Gunnrek.

‘Aye – the Ragnarok,’ echoed Dag. ‘That day is coming. Maybe soon. When chaos breaks the chains that hold it back.’ His throat rattled with a hollow laugh. ‘You think the world’s a dark and bloody place now? It’s bright as the sun against what’s to come.’

The fire seemed to flare at his words, and a stillness came over the company as they listened to Dag go on in his halting, jagged way. They had all heard it told before – usually on a dark night such as that one. The Ragnarok – the Final Fires. The unleashing of terror upon the world of men.

The folk of the north had long passed on the ancient foretelling of the destruction to come. When the monstrous wolf Fenrir would slip his chain, and the Great Snake would rise out of the deep, and fire would burst from the earth. They listened as Dag poked at the embers, voice brittle as the cracking wood. He spoke of the sun splintered by spears of darkness, of draug-spirits returning. Of Hel’s children gathering the thralls of the dead and voyaging to the final slaughter on a ship of rotting flesh. Of oceans breaking their bounds, flooding the land, and the fierce frosts of winter upon winter upon winter, withering all life to nothing. When men would tear out the hearts of their kin, and Loki’s lies would fill their minds. He told of brothers and sisters rutting like swine, fathers destroying their heirs, mothers burning their offspring in fire. The justice of men would come to nothing. Laws and customs would crumble. The wisdom of the ages would be swallowed up. Only the Hall of the Fallen Heroes would stand. Valhalla.

Aldi clapped his hands in excitement, earning himself a scowl from Gunnrek.

Dag went on, gazing into the flames. ‘The Father of All will call them out.’ Odin’s host of heroes. Heimdall’s horn would summon them to the field of blood. The dead would swarm under Hel’s banner, and every hero would meet his bane. And then, only then, would the Final Fires burn, consuming all. Darkness, light, the turning of time, the halls of thunder, the vaults of lightning, the roaring oceans. The shining stars would fall, Ymir’s skull would shatter, and then. . . There would be nothing.

‘Just as it was,’ he growled. ‘All will be nothing once more.’

For a long time, no one said a word. There was only the rain, and the fire, and the rasping in Dag’s nostrils.

‘The Ragnarok,’ said one, at last.

They all nodded.

‘It starts in here, boy.’ Dag pointed to his heart. ‘Chaos waits in here, dreaming of the time it’ll break free.’ He nodded. ‘Aye – the spark of those final flames burns in us. It’s been spoken. So it’ll be.’

Silence again, till Dag suddenly cleared his throat and spat into the fire. ‘One thing to say for it on a night like this. At least it’ll be fucking warm.’

‘And dry,’ added Aldi, with a snigger.

Dag gave a languorous yawn. ‘On that cheery thought, my friends, I bid you goodnight.’

The others turned in soon after. Their makeshift canopy kept off the worst of the drizzle, but the ground was wet and the air damp.

Hakan lay nursing dark thoughts. Hate. Chaos. Killing. The Ragnarok. Had Dag meant to goad him on or halt him in his course? Somehow, his words did both. Black deeds danced in his heart.

Perhaps the only way to be rid of them is to see them done. . .

Again and again, he asked himself why Inga hadn’t told him of Konur’s visit. Had she betrayed him? And worse, was his father truly going to give her away? What would happen to the child? His child? These and a thousand other questions whirled through his mind. All the while, in the darkness he saw Konur’s sneering face.

And then, all at once, an answer. The only answer to all these unanswerable questions.

I just. Want him. Dead.