he heard this. Which thought made everyone quieter, for it was a heavy beast of a boat to be rowing crew- light.
'Don't worry, there will be others joining the Oathsworn soon enough,' Einar told them and again they cheered. And he had, it must be said, brought them from the wolf's jaws to a rich prize, so that, like me, they almost forgot that his doom had brought it on them and that men had died.
But even so, the four remaining Christ-followers now reverted to Thor's hammer and were shamefaced that they had ever considered the White Christ, for it was clear to all that some gods still favoured Einar and the Norns were having to unravel some of what they were trying to weave for him.
Still, there were many, like me, who sat pensively, wondering just what we had won from Koksalmi. A useless old spear and a madwoman raving about a treasure hoard only she could find for us. And this marvellous ship and its riches.
We had lost much to weigh against that: Martin the monk had escaped, while Skapti and Pinleg and more besides were dead.
Worse than that, I was thinking, there is only so long you can fend off your wyrd when it is laid on you.
9 We stood with heads bowed on the headland, where the wind hissed in from the sea, bringing the smell of salt and wrack and watched as the sweating men Illugi had hired shifted the man-sized stone into position, heaving on ropes to pull it upright.
It shunked softly into the pit dug for it, where lay spearheads and rings and hacksilver, all given by the Oathsworn as an offering to Pinleg and Skapti and the others we had left behind.
Illugi, who had overseen the purchase and sacrifice of three fine rams—one for Pin-leg, one for Skapti, one for all the rest—turned to where I stood, with Hild, Gunnar Raudi and a few others. And Pinleg's woman, Olga, a big, blonde Slav with fat arms and the faint hint of a moustache.
She was not beautiful—standing beside the pale, fey Hild she looked as solid as a heifer and as handsome— but she had a strong face and her chin was set, even if her eyes were damp. Her hands, with their chafed-red knuckles, gathered the heads of two tawny-haired children into the warm comfort of her apron. A boy and a girl, they were clearly bewildered by all this and their mother's obvious grief.
`What would you have on it?' Illugi Godi asked as the mason stood by, head cocked attentively.
`His name,' she said, tilting her chin defiantly. `Knut Vigdisson. And those of his children, Ingrid and Thorfinn.'
Knut Vigdisson. It came as a shock to realise Pinleg had had a name, like any other man. And named after his mother, too. A good Norse name, like those of his children, though his wife was a Slav here in Aldeigjuborg, that great cauldron of peoples.
Kraut Vigdisson. Pinleg was a stranger to me with that name. Still, he had one—Skapti didn't even have that, only the one the Oathsworn had given him. Halftroll.
Illugi Godi nodded and then asked, politely: 'May we add something on our own behalf?'
That was for form. If it was agreed, the Oathsworn would pay for the stone, which would stand on this spot and shout Pinleg's and Skapti's fame in the ribbon of runes waiting to be cut, and commemorate the others lost with them.
We had agreed it earlier with the carver. Their names and Pinleg's children's names would be added to the simple testament that they were the Oathsworn of Einar the Black, who raised this stone in their honour and then, simply:
Others wanted something like 'They gave the eagles food' or something even more dramatic and never mind the expense, but Illugi held to what had been agreed earlier at a meeting of everyone, Einar included. I had not realised, until then, how far-fared the original Oathsworn band had been, or how long they had been on the whale road.
Hild said, as we turned away from the windswept headland: 'You lost friends over this matter. I am sorry for it.'
Surprised—she had not volunteered so much speech since the forge mountain, weeks before—I blinked and tried to think of some polite reply, but failed. So I said what I thought, which Illugi Godi always said was best. Experience, even then, with so few years on me, had taught the opposite.
I was wondering if Skapti had anyone to mourn for him besides the few of us,' I said.
If he had a name other than Halftroll, I never heard it uttered.'
She nodded, hugging—as always—the ruined Roman spear-shaft to her. 'It is hard to lose friends,' she agreed, sadly.
I took a slight breath, formed up and charged. 'You would know. You have lost your mother and all your friends. You can never return to the village you came from. Not that you would wish to, I suppose, considering what they had planned.'
There was a pause and I wondered if I had gone too far, too soon, but she nodded, blank-faced. We walked on down towards the road that led back to the smoke-stained wooden sprawl of the town.
Behind, I could hear Gunnar Raudi and the others raucously toasting the stone, the carver, the helpers and the dead as was only right. Ahead, Olga walked, solid and ponderous, beside the tall, spare figure of Illugi, nodding as he spoke. On either side, the tawny-haired boy and girl, unaffected by the death of a father they had barely known, scampered and laughed in the spring sun like new lambs.
At my first bleed,' Hild said suddenly, 'my mother told me a secret that her mother told her. Then she gave me to the tanner's wife. Not long afterwards, she offered herself to the forge mountain, as my grandmother had done, for it was expected.
`They were not bad people in Koksalmi, but they believed in the power of the smiths. The village had been chosen, long before, to be the place where something great would happen, to ensure that the Old Gods survived for ever.'
`The Vanir, you mean?'
Older still.' She fell silent and I saw her knuckles whiten on the spear-shaft, so I tried to comfort her.
`Still, you are safe now. You have faced the curse of the forge and are better for it.'
`Better?'
Confused, I waved a wild hand. 'When first we met you were . . . sick. Now you seem well again. Calmer.
I am glad of it.'
We walked on in silence for a moment, then she turned and laid one hand on my arm. 'Do you like me, Orm?'
Flustered, I felt my face flame. I started to stammer and saw the strangest thing in her eyes. Sadness. I stopped, unable to say anything.
She leaned closer to me. I felt the butterfly wing of a kiss on my cheek and then she pulled back. 'You have been kind. But keep clear. Do not try to . . . love me. Or you will die.'
Her gaze was as sharp as the spear that had once graced the Roman shaft she held fiercely in both hands and, for a moment, I wondered if she would try to stick me with the nub end that was left. Then she whirled and dashed along the road in a flail of skirts. As she passed Illugi Godi and Olga, they looked back at me, both united in the surety that I had offended her in some way.
Not long after, as we came to the sea gate of the town, Olga gathered the purse Illugi gave her—Pinleg's share—and her children and went off. Illugi Godi came to me and jerked his head at where the faint roars drifted; Bagnose was composing verses in a good skald saga for the dead of the forge mountain. 'Should you not be there?'
I was tasked with looking after Hild,' I replied moodily.
He smiled. 'It seems our captive princess does not wish to be looked after,' he replied. `What did you do?'
`Nothing,' I answered sharply, then sighed. I don't understand women. Well, not this one, anyway. She seems to like me—then looked as if she'd stick me with that spear.'
`She is a strange one,' agreed Illugi, 'even allowing for the wyrd of her life so far.'
`Strange, too,' I mused, 'the way she babbled like a child when first we met. I could understand one word in
