“Though I do have a confession.” He paused. “I chose the spot on the northwest shore for three reasons. The first is the weather, which I already explained. The second was to have wood from the mountain for building homes, fortifications and docks. And the third...I would not have you so far removed from all that is familiar to you. It is not the Teclan mountain, but I thought you would gain some comfort by its presence.” He finished quietly, seeming almost embarrassed. “Though that is not something I would have shared with my men,” he added ruefully.
Nena’s heart swelled. He was always so considerate of her feelings and her comfort.
“With you, all new things will become familiar to me,” she said as she snuggled against his bare chest. “But are you sure we cannot ride there? Must we take the ships?”
“We could ride, but what will take only three days now would take three weeks. You must trust me.”
“I do. Now tell me the story of Sigurd and his wife, Leila—the ones who built The Treasure Huntress.”
IT WAS DAWN, when Gunnar stepped off the deck of the ship and found Jarl on the dock staring at The Treasure Huntress in the fog. “I don’t have to take her, you know. I can still take the Sea Wolf,” Gunnar said.
“No, the Sea Wolf is long past due to retire,” Jarl said. “She’s the perfect boat to leave behind, and more than I expected to have. Besides,” he placed his hand on the graceful dragon’s neck that made the bow of the ship, “I gave my word to Sigurd. The Huntress is young and was made for adventure. She will be far better off seeking treasure than stagnating here as a transport shuttle.” He turned to Gunnar. “And I know she will be in good hands.”
“As will you, I suspect,” Gunnar said, and nodded toward the woman approaching them in the morning mist.
Jarl smiled and nodded in agreement. “Yes. As will I.”
“You know I would like to stay and help more, but we must go now or we won’t make it before the rivers freeze. We’ll be cutting it very close now, I’m afraid. As much as I hate the heat here, a frozen Rusland winter sounds even less appealing,” Gunnar said and shook his head. “And even with fair weather, I expect all the land portages to be even lengthier. Since you decided to stay, half the men have suddenly decided to stay with you. I have made up for much of the lost labor with extra slaves, but you know even the strongest equals half a Viking. The loss of Tryggr’s brute strength alone required three slaves to replace.”
“I fully understand,” Jarl said. “Your help here in these past days has been an unexpected bonus, and very well received, my friend. We are far ahead of where I expected to be even months from now. Gratitude.”
“None required.” Gunnar dismissed it. “I look forward to seeing your progress when I return next year. I expect it will be much changed. And as much as I will miss not having the extra men for their labor, I am more optimistic about your survival here with the larger force. Though I would feel even better if you had more of them.”
“More will come.”
“Yes, that’s what I’m worried about. I do not expect them all to be friendly.”
“Thanks to you we are at least starting out with some defenses.”
Gunnar glanced around at the rough, quickly constructed fortifications: ramparts, sharp poles, trenches, a watch tower. They were meager, but better than nothing. “I shall do as you requested with your possessions at home, and bring the equivalent of their worth on my next expedition.”
“And mine. Don’t forget mine,” Tryggr said, as he heaved the last crate to be stowed on board, then joined them, overhearing Gunnar’s last words.
“And yours Tryggr,” Gunnar agreed. “Though it should be you now taking the helm of The Treasure Huntress, not me.”
“Bah. Captaining is for the young. Raiding is for the young.” Tryggr shook his head. “Besides, someone needs to watch out for Jarl, here. He’s reckless, you know. Without someone to look after him, he’d end up dead for sure.”
“Then I leave you to it.” Gunnar nodded. “May Odin and Thor continue to smile upon you until we see each other again.”
“And to you,” Jarl said.
Gunnar leapt easily onto the deck and made his way to the helm. At his command all oars splashed into the water in one synchronized movement, and the ship slowly backed away from the makeshift dock.
Nena came to stand beside Jarl as he watched the ship row away. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close. Neither spoke until the ship was but a speck on the horizon.
“Do you wish you were going?” she asked him.
He turned and looked deep into her eyes. “I am exactly where I want to be.”
She smiled. “As am I.”
SIGURD STEPPED UP onto the low granite slab that jutted out over the fjord and glanced up at the sun. The muted orange fireball was just beginning its descent toward the horizon. His timing was perfect. He dropped the soft white rabbit pelt near the water’s edge and carefully laid the two oxhorn cups on top of it before lowering the small cask from his shoulder. After filling both cups with the amber honey mead, he leaned them against the cask, then eased his stiff body down to sit next to them. He adjusted his position to avoid a sharp piece of ice jabbing him in the back and then settled in against the stone.
He exhaled a long slow exhale and watched his breath billow white in the crisp air before slowly dissipating. There was not a hint of wind. Just the way she liked it. He looked out over the smooth still
