“It tore my heart when I must yield you up to the thurs,” he said to her as they walked alone. “I know not if I would have, had you not told me you chose to go for the sake of our house. Nevermore shall you be betrothed against your will. But we are getting well-born guests, who bring many more with them. They stay on in hopes of you. Quarrels are rising among them. I fear uproar, killing, and all the aftermath, if you do not pick one soon.”
“Or none,” she said.
“If you take one, the rest will not go away angry. They’ll see it’s merely that you like him best. But if you tell the whole lot of them nay, then everybody will be wroth. They’ll think you feel that not a one is worth having.”
“I’ll wait a while yet.”
“You will take a man soon, won’t you? You’d not go barren to your grave”
She nodded. “Him who saved me.”
“But you never saw his face. You met only a fellow of his, likewise unknown to you. He has not come forth. How do you know he ever will?”
“I will know him if he does.” She looked beyond the fields and the fjord. “No, when he does.”
A few days later Hadding entered the harbor.
Folk cried out when they saw his ship draw nigh. Ragnhild was among those who sought higher ground from which to watch. It was a splendid sight. The weather had gone bright and warm. White clouds stood tall to north, over the land that rose green across the water, but the sun rode free and light spilled down to sheen and glitter on wavelets. Hadding had waited until the breeze blew such that from Nidaros his colored sail with the woven raven showed broadside on. The warlike figurehead was lowered, the white shield of peace hung at the masthead, but the shields along the sides flashed in their many hues above the red and black and gold of the hull. Himself at the helm, as he came near he winded a horn. Men struck and smartly furled the sail, others took up oars, and Firedrake walked on thirty legs to a berth.
Richly clad, as were his crew, Hadding stepped ashore. One ran ahead toward Haakon’s hall, to say that the king of the Danes was bound thither. He led his troop at a staid pace. The crowd gave way, closing in again behind. Voices buzzed. From her hillock Ragnhild saw his height and the slight limp in his gait. She caught her breath.
King Haakon met King Hadding outside the hall and made him welcome in seemly wise. Hadding kenned the graybeard who had bidden Ragnhild farewell on the Troll’s Hood, but said nothing of it. “I hear great men are gathered in your house,” he told Haakon. “I thought this might be a good time to speak with you and them of things that touch all our kingdoms.”
“They are more the sons of great men,” answered the Norseman. “They seek the hand of my daughter, for everybody thinks she will be a lucky as well as gainful match.”
“Yes, I’ve heard something of this too,” said Hadding. “I’ve been hereabouts a while.” More than that he did not tell. His men were as close-mouthed as he.
He did not want to blurt forth that it was he who had saved the woman. Rather would he first feel out how things stood. These were haughty hot-tempered men that wooed her. If any of them called him a liar, for his own honor he might well have to fight; and if he killed, that meant a blood feud on his hands, not easily settled. Of course, Ivar, lately back from Denmark, Thorfinn, and others were witnesses to the truth. Nonetheless he felt it beneath him to call straightway on them, as if he were a worker whining to be paid.
Moreover, there could be reasons why wedding Ragnhild was unwise for him. He only knew the Niderings by word of mouth and what little he had seen. They might not be the best of allies. She herself might be a bad sort. He doubted that, but he had no sure knowledge All in all, he reckoned it best to wait and watch. His years of kingship had taught him carefulness.
Haakon’s queen met him at the threshold of the hall. She was young, for Ragnhild’s mother had died, but she knew well how to speak to so high a guest, lead him to the seat of honor, and with her own hands bring him a beaker of mead. The man who sat there before, a king from the Uplands, glowered, though Haakon was quick to give him a fine sword. These could indeed be gurly waters.
The light of the long, late afternoon filled the hall. House-folk were busy laying the fires and otherwise readying for eventide. Some of the guests were there. They talked with Hadding’s men, trying to learn more about his aim but getting short answers. The rest were elsewhere, riding, hunting, boating, wenching, playing ball games, or egging two stallions on to fight.
Ragnhild bore his second beaker to Hadding. She had put on a shift of Southland silk under embroidered apron panels held by silver brooches set with gems. Her coppery hair flowed free from beneath a headband of gold. An amber necklace draped over her bosom. “I too make you welcome, king,” she said slowly.
They looked one another in the eyes. Red and white fled through her face, but she held herself and her voice steady. “Thank you,” he said with a smile “It’s twice a welcome from so fair a maiden.”
“You have come a long way. I hope the voyage has been worth your while.”
“Yes, I’ve gotten a thing or two
