Page 14 of Hungry Like a Wolf
“Perthro,” Astrid said suddenly. “That was one of the runestones that spoke that day. It signifies the mystery of the unknown and unknowable.”
“Ja.” Ravn pointed at her. “And now I know. The funeral pyre gave me knowledge. It was fate that we sailed past on this day and saw it.”
Haakon stood and placed his hands on his hips. He studied his brother. “It does seem as if it is Almighty God’s will.”
“‘Almighty God’s will’?” Ravn repeated with a scoff.
“Ja.” Haakon looked at two older men, villagers. “I am Christian now. These men can confirm it.”
“You have denounced the gods!” Ravn jumped to his feet. “You are a traitor, brother, a traitor to Odin.”
“Do you wish to fight again?” Haakon gripped the hilt of his sword. “I allowed you onto my land because you said you had come in peace.”
“Before I knew you were Christian!”
Queen Kenna stood at her husband’s side. The owl on her shoulder flapped its wings and let out a squawk. “My husbandis a man of great depth,” she said. “He is learning the Christian way, though it is hard for his heart to let go of the gods who have walked with him since the day he was born. Gods who are ruled by the greatest God.” She touched her cross. “All the gods have been with him in battles and in storms, which is why he breathes this day and his heart beats. I understand that he pays his respects to them all.”
Ravn flexed his fingers then drew them into a fist. “Father will be looking down on you with shame.”
“Father had ambition for travel and learning and that is what I have done. I am walking in the footsteps he had hoped to tread himself.” Haakon looked upward. “He will be smiling down on me, the gods at his side.”
“This is how he is now.” Astrid flung her arm toward Haakon and rolled her eyes. “It is easier to go along with it than fight his new, crazed ways.”
“You have not forsaken the All Father, Astrid? Tell me you have not.” Ravn spun to her.
“No! The gods and goddesses have not deserted me and I will not desert them.”
Ravn looked at Orm.
Orm laughed and circled his finger beside his head as though spinning thoughts. He gave no answer.
Ravn sat with a sigh and reached for a slice of buttered bread. “What is the land like here?”
“It is good and fertile, not as frozen as the north, and there are crops we haven’t seen.” Haakon leaned forward, clearly warming to the new topic of conversation. “And taste good.”
“Crops that grow all year,” a huge Norseman added, his sudden input in a gruff voice making Carmel stare at him. The man was huge and he had discarded his tunic, as though hot, and his wide, broad chest was splattered with ink in a variety ofcomplex roped designs that twisted and turned over his muscles and down to his belly.
“Who is that?” Carmel whispered to Anna.
“Gunner. He is one of them.”
She had guessed that. He was unmistakably Viking.
“We are willing to teach you our farming ways, brother Ravn,” Queen Kenna said. “My father, a village elder, is a generous man with knowledge.” She pointed to a stooped man with a graying beard and a tasseled hood pulled up over his head. He was spooning broth into his mouth and appeared very relaxed—much more than anyone in her village would have been if Vikings had walked in and taken over.
These people were weak to be so easily invaded and to then be so accommodating. If she’d been feeling generous, she’d have thought they had an alternate plan and were playing a long game, but she didn’t think that was the case. The Vikings were marrying their women and ruling their lands. The Tillicoulty people may as well have set an arrowed sign on the beach welcoming them in.
And Haakon being Christian now. That was ridiculous. It was clear his faith was still in the heathen gods, and his brother… Huh, he thought of nothing else.
Chapter Five
Ravn slept ona straw cot in the Great House. He was full of ale and food and it was a relief not to be on a rocking boat surrounded by the grunts and nocturnal stenches of his fellow travelers.
When he opened his eyes and saw sunlight sneaking in through cracks in the wood paneling, he let out a sigh. His plan to find his siblings had been vague and possibly foolhardy. After they’d left the fjord, he’d had no idea which direction they’d journeyed in. He’d guessed west, which had been Haakon’s obsession—he’d long since bored of going east into the Baltic lands.
It was Njord himself who had sent Ravn south. He’d puffed up his cheeks and blown their sail straight into the cove his brother stood in, almost as if waiting for Ravn’s arrival.
The gods worked in mysterious ways, for if Egil had not gone to sup with the gods, and his mortal body sent on its way that very day, Ravn would never have seen the plume of black smoke smudging the sky and the flames flashing as the funeral raft dipped and bobbed on the waves.
