Page 64 of Mastered By the Viking King

Leif frowned.

“I thought not.” Njal gripped his oar tighter. His hands were cold and stiff. “Turn around, warriors. We are going home. We cannot battle the rage of the sea. It is all powerful and hungry for souls.”

No complaints were forthcoming, and the warriors set to turning the longboat.

A wave crested over them, soaking each man on board. It confirmed Njal’s decision. The gates of the sea were closed today. It didn’t want them. Only fools would continue to try to pass, and Njal was no fool.

“We will go home and drink mead,” Leif shouted. “Beside the fire, and then spend the night in the warm arms of women.”

“Aye,” Njal said, hauling on his oar. “At this moment, the warm arms of a woman, my queen, are exactly what I want.”

* * *

Some time later, Tove and Knud walked out of the east side of the village toward Samark Lake. She’d bundled him up in two tunics and a coat, fearful of him getting a chill, and then a fever while his father was gone. She’d added a thick woolen scarf beneath her own cloak.

Knud held his small wooden longboat in his fist and ran ahead through the virgin snow. The trees were heavy with it, their evergreen boughs slumping toward the ground under the weight. Above the gray sky was bloated with more snow clouds and a biting wind sliced through the air.

Tove didn’t plan on being outside for too long. The light would soon fade, and she’d use that as an excuse to take Knud back to the Great Hall. But if he had time outside, thinking about something other than his father being out in a wild sea, that was good.

“Mama! Mama, look,” he called. “Samark Lake!”

Tove hurried to keep up with Knud. She pushed a low branch out of the way, snow tumbling in a flurry to the ground only to be whipped up by the wind. “Wait for me.”

“Look!”

She came to a stop beside him. The lake was indeed frozen over. A vast expanse of pure, flat white. In the distance, the mountain rose to the gods, its steep flanks dotted with open-mouthed caves.

“How can I play with my longboat here?” Knud held up the small toy.

“I did think it might be iced over.” She ruffled his hair.

“Can we walk up there and look?”

“Aye, but don’t step on the lake. We don’t know how thick the ice is.”

“It looks thick.”

“But we can’t be sure—it is early winter. You don’t want to fall in the freezing water, do you? If the ice is not strong, that is what will happen.”

“No, Mama.”

They walked at the lake’s edge, feet sinking into the deep snow. Tove spotted hare tracks, and made a note to tell Njal. He’d set some traps, or order some to be set. Hare broth was a good meal, and the soft fur made a fine inner lining for a hood.

Or for a newborn.

She smiled, wondering if she’d have a swollen belly by the spring. She hoped so. Njal certainly was keen to plant his seed in her every night—and during the day, too, if the mood took him.

She paused and looked over her shoulder, her mind going back to the roiling seas. She hoped Njord, the god of the sea, was feeling merciful, and would take pity on the Viking warriors’ plight.

“Mama!”

She returned her attention to the boy… Her heart leaped. “Knud! What are you doing?”

He’d stepped out onto the lake, leaving a trail of small footprints.

“It is thick and strong. Look!” He jumped into the air, slamming his feet down.

“No. Get off it.” Panic chilled her blood. It had barely been cold long enough for the ice to form. “Knud, now, get off it.”

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