Hadding smiled. “Well, now, that’s sweet to hear. But I told you, I know not when it can be.”
“Before Yule, surely? You’ll be at Haven. You almost always make your midwinter offering there. And first you take your ease, after the year’s trekkings and strivings. Say you’ll come when we ask you. Promise me, father!”
She stood there before him in the morning light, his daughter who looked so much like his Ragnhild, and held out her arms to him. “It’s a good thought,” he said. “Yes, if nothing holds me that I can’t break loose from, I’ll come. And thank you, Ulfhild.”
“It’s we who must thank you,” she breathed.
He rode off, followed by his household. Once more, after the losses on Lolland, they were so many that their camp had overflowed a meadow. For a while he was merrier than they had seen him be in a long time. But lying idle until Tosti came by, he began again to brood. His slaying of the outlaw seemed only to lay a deeper darkness over him.
Afterward he went around in the kingdom as of yore, meetings his folk at their Things and in their homes, giving redes and judgments, calming those who were at odds, telling them it was better to build and trade than burn and rob. Men spoke among each other, sometimes with grins, of how the wild young rover had become the mild old grandfather. But some said, “It’s as though he’s bidding us farewell.”
In Scania he stayed a few days with Eyjolf. “I’d like to go on north to Uppsala and greet King Hunding,” he said on their last evening. “The road between friends should be trodden oftener than ours has been, these past years. But the season wears on. I’d best turn homeward.”
“You’ll surely meet again, you two,” the jarl answered, “and I’ve a feeling that that’s not far off.”
Hadding sighed. “One can hope.”
Back in Haven, he went to see Frodi and they had speech at the fen. He returned to his hall and the dream came to him. A week later he heard that his son had left Denmark.
—Soon after, Gudorm’s men arrived.
They were four, sturdy carles whose legs dangled down close to the fetlocks of their shaggy little horses. Hadding knew them by name. They stood awkwardly before him in his high seat. “What brings you here?” he asked.
“Well, lord,” said the leader, “they at the garth sent us to ask if you’d come visit for a bit, if you’ll do them the honor. They told me you’d told them you would if you could, nowabouts. That’s the word we was to bring you, by your leave.”
“Did they say why they want this?”
“Well, I understand it’s for family’s sake, like. They’d rather you come with only us, if that’s not beneath you. But it’s not for me to know, lord.”
Hadding gazed at the honest red face and murmured, “No, Olaf, you and your fellows can hardly know. Maybe I myself don’t. But I did promise. Yes, I’ll go, No man may flee his weird.”
The men shivered. Housecarles who overheard looked askance at the king. He smiled a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve a few things to take care of first,” he said. “We should be able to set forth the day after tomorrow. Then we’ll get there the day after that, as short as the days have become. Meanwhile rest yourselves here, goodfolk.”
“May one of us head straight back and tell them, lord? The lady Ulfhild said as how she wanted to have everything ready, fit for you.”
“He may as well,” said Hadding.
A youth rode off at once. The others saw little more of the king until they left with him. They thought that was best, as lost in thought as he seemed. They could drink, gab, and be cheerful with the workers, around the hall and with such guardsmen as cared to join in.
The next day Hadding drew the new chief of his house-caries aside outdoors. They spoke long and earnestly. Afterward the chief sent off a score of men. He gave out that he had heard there might be a robber denning in the midisland woods, and wanted to learn whether the tale was true and, if so, track the man down.
As for Hadding, he went into his treasure hoard. From it he took a splendid battle horn, made from the horn of an aurochs, banded with silver in which the smith had hammered Valkyries bearing fallen heroes to the gods.
At sunrise he rode from his hall. None followed him but the three men from the garth to which he was bound. They fared silent, for so the king did.
As night drew nigh, they halted at a house he owned on the Isefjord, where he kept a yacht. The caretakers put a meal together That also went glumly. However, at the end the king got up and said, “Bring these men as much more ale as they want.” To them he added, “Refresh yourselves. I’m going for a stroll.”
“Not overly gladsome at seeing daughter and grandkids again, is he?” muttered one of them when the tall shape had limped out the door.
“Hold your jaw,” said Olaf. “Kings, they got much on their minds, they do. I’d not willingly be a king, I wouldn’t. Hoy, this is a mighty tasty brew here. Let’s swill while we can.”
—Dusk closed in. Hadding stood on the shore, looking north over the water. It lay still, a steely glimmer broken by the black hulk of an island, out to the worldrim and beyond. Once he said into the hush and chill, “I think you are the home I have ever been seeking.”
