Page 43 of Viking Beast
From across the room, where I helped Ragerta in seasoning joints of meat, I caught Eldberg’s eyes. He’d been talking to Rangvald but gave me his slow smile. I knew well that look—that he wished to return me to his bed and make our own entertainment.
Casting his gaze briefly about the room, he rose and entered our chamber.
Wiping my hands, I made to join him, but had taken no more than a few steps when I saw that Rangvald followed our jarl.
’Twas a strange thing, for Eldberg rarely summoned his men for private meetings. Curiosity stirred within me, and I wondered if they planned together for the coming rituals of Jólablót, when our marriage was to be celebrated.
Joining the outer edges of those who listened to Ivar’s story, I placed myself near the divide of our jarl’s chamber from the main hall. I could barely make out their words, for they spoke low. But with my finger pressed to one ear and the other directed toward the curtain, I discerned bits of their conversation.
I heard mention of Ivar’s name—that he’d been sent somewhere and recently returned, and had been travelling as a skald.
I frowned at that. It didn’t make sense. Ivar worked as a carpenter and had a family in Skálavík. He was one of Eldberg’s men. Regardless of his cleverness with words, why would he wish to roam other settlements?
Rangvald spoke: Ivar had disguised himself, hunched and cloaked. He’d stayed only one night; it had been sufficient to learn what they needed.
What was this?
The next words I heard brought an icy fist to my chest.
Svolvaen.
Ivar had been to Svolvaen?
I leaned forward. What had Ivar been doing?
“He’s there,” Rangvald hissed, “…with a purpose…ingratiate himself with lies…led them here.”
Eldberg swore. “They have allies?”
“The sister married a Bjorgen man.”
Helka!They must mean Helka.
Was she alive?
“We’ll be ready. None can approach unseen… double the guards on the river and the harbour… alert the watch on the headland.”
They thought Svolvaen would attack? Impossible! Helka would never be so foolhardy—unless she was ignorant of Skálavík’s strength.
Rangvald again. “The jarl…”
His voice dropped low. I couldn’t hear.
What of the jarl?
Eirik was dead. Some other had taken his place. Olaf perhaps? Had he survived? Or Anders?
“Woken up… long time…”
Woken?
Eldberg spoke. “…come to his own slaughter… Bloodeagle…”
I clenched my nails into my palms.
Helka had told me of the bloodeagle—that Gunnolf had once inflicted it upon someone who’d refused to acknowledge him as jarl, having accused him of murdering Hallgerd.
The man had been restrained face down, having the shape of an eagle with outstretched wings cut into his back. His ribs had then been hacked from his spine with an axe, one by one.
