A few days later, Hadding was on his way.
He had indeed not taken time to put matters fully in order. After hasty talks with the Zealand chieftains, he left Eirilc Jarl to steer the kingdom. He had bought Ivar Bardsson’s cargo for more than the traders could have gotten on Gotland. They sailed with him, to be his guides and helpers. The freight they now bore was horses.
Otherwise he had but one ship. He could not have raised a war-host fast, if at all. Anyhow, the giant would have kept clear of it, to wreak havoc elsewhere. Hadding alone, with his knowledge of wilderness and of jotun ways, had any hope of dealing with Jarnskegg.
The craft was his darling, the Firedrake, a longship of thirty oars. A crew of housecarles hung their shields from the bulwarks. She danced on the Sound, red and black and golden-trimmed. Mast up, the brightly striped sail caught wind. Not until he was well at sea would Hadding break out the dragon head and set it on the stempost. He had no wish to anger the land-wights of home. But already the ship leaped forward like a wolf at prey. He must keep on a longer tack than needful, not to outrun the knorr. His warriors shouted. They also had been too idle for their liking.
Gyda stood on the wharf, in front of everybody else gathered there, and watched until the hulls were lost to sight.
XIX
When had passed through the narrows into the great fjord, Hadding did not make for King Haakon’s seat at Nidaros. Sailing through the light night, he followed Ivar to a spot on the Bight of Buvik where the skipper dwelt. Trees walled the steading off, and a boat shed meant for the knorr hid Firedrake. Ivar told his family and household folk to stay on the grounds. These were guests whose coming should not be noised about. He himself saddled a horse and set forth to Nidaros.
The town was not fat He came back the same day. “I thought the king would lodge you overnight and want to know how you are home again so soon,” Hadding said.
“I had no need to visit him, nor would he have had heed to give me,” answered Ivar. “Tomorrow Ragnhild goes to the giant. Nidaros seethes with the news. It’ll shortly be over the whole kingdom.”
Hadding nodded. “They’ve had some foreboding of it here at your home,” he said tautly, for he had talked with them.
“Yes, that happened what I told you could happen, though not quite as ill as it might have been. Chieftains throughout the land called a Thing a short while ago, and yeomen flocked to it. They decided that unless the king gave her up, they would overthrow him and take her there themselves. Anything to make an end of their woe. Some said this would be not only a lawless deed but a luckless one, for the woman would kill herself first, or ask her father to slay her. But others cried that then at least they two would die, whose selfishness had brought on so much death and ruin. They were on hand, though they kept aside and silent.
“Yesterday the meeting passed its award. Then Ragnhild trod before it. No man should call her coward, she told them. She would go, but only if they swore a renewed troth to King Haakon. They shouted it forth. I hear that some wept.”
“She has a bold soul,” said Hadding. “I feared we’d be too late to do more than avenge her. Noir I see she’s worth avenging, or, better, saving.”
“What if the matter had still been moot?” Ivar asked.
“Why, we’ve spoken about that, you and I. I’d have tracked the giant down. But it could have been a wearisome task. Instead, he’ll come to me.”
Ivar gave Hadding a long look. “I wonder if this is altogether happenstance,” he murmured. “From all I’ve heard, your weird is unlike other men’s.”
The Dane-king shrugged. “I know not what it is, any more than you know yours. Let’s get to work. I must start off betimes.”
They had in truth talked when their crews camped ashore along the way. Best would be for Hadding to arrive unbeknownst. His undertaking was wildly risky even without Jarnskegg being somehow forewarned. His men would take the longship to the lonely little Tarva islands and bide, except for a few who would go with him. They had come close to blows over who those should be. When he picked them he must take utmost care not to make the rest think that in his eyes they were less doughty. One man of Ivar’s who was willing would guide them, Thorfinn Thorgeirsson. He hailed from Dofra Fell and knew the Troll’s Hood.
Jarnskegg had long since blared his terms of peace. On that bare height, from which he could scan far and wide, he had heaped wood for a huge and smoky fire. Let a man set it alight. Let Ragnhild wait there by herself, or at most with a serving maid or two. Belike he would see the beacon. If he was off waging his war, he would get the news otherwise and hasten to her.
There was no hope of sending a host to kill him as he drew nigh. Nowhere for miles around could it lie hidden. Jarnskegg was a hunter, with all a hunter’s wariness.
Hadding too was a hunter.
He left with his small following as soon as they had packed food and gear. The horses were rather stiff after their time in the knorr, but quickly grew limber. They were the best from his stable at the Soundside hall. He rode them the hardest they could bear, changing gait or halting no oftener than was unforgoable. In the short, wan summer night his band would stop to eat, roll up in their saddle blankets, and sleep. Sunrise found them
