Page 121 of Oath of the Wolf
Cenric returned the stolen armor.When Ovrek demanded to know who had taken it, Cenric truthfully answered that he didn’t have a name.
Tullia was buried in her late husband’s lamellar armor, upright in a wooden seat with her eunuchs standing beside her, held up with wooden posts.The sword she had wielded was bent and placed in her right hand.The shield was split with an axe before being leaned by her feet.
A young mare was killed and set before her, along with two hunting dogs from her household, and a cat she had brought from across the sea on one of her journeys.Precious stones, a silk robe, a small box of polished wood containing amethyst, a jar of perfume, combs, eating knives, and a cask of mead were buried with her.
It was the burial of a warrior in every way, worthy of a jarl.Some people questioned Ovrek’s decision, but no one dared question it to his face.
When going through Tullia’s belongings to find goods for her grave, Brynn came across a child’s toy horse carved from soapstone.It was tucked in a chest inside a leather oilcloth along with several dried daisies and a baby-soft lock of black hair.
Brynn made sure the oilcloth pouch was placed in Tullia’s lap under her left hand, the one not holding the sword.
Ovrek sacrificed his great, profane ship to be Sifma and Gistrid’s grave.The vessel with its mast and ribs made from the Grandfather Yew was dragged to the hillside, into a massive trench.The ship alone was a lavish act of mourning, a sacrifice of wealth greater than most people would hold in their lifetime.
Brynn had to wonder if sacrificing the ship at the heart of the past days’ bloodshed was an act of penitence.She doubted Ovrek would ever admit to something so humbling, but the king did seem repentant.
Sifma and Gistrid were buried reclined on the deck with Gistrid by Sifma’s feet, denoting their rank.Sifma’s body had been badly burned and little besides her skeleton remained.
Vana and the servants still did their best, but Sifma’s clothes had mostly melted into her charred flesh.They had to wrap her funeral clothes over her feasting garb.
Sifma was buried with lush furs, arm rings, a magnificent silver torque not unlike the one Vana wore.The deck of the ship was neatly arranged like a small house with chickens, a pair of oxen, three ewes, and jars of salt.Sifma’s spinning wheel and distaff were placed beside her, as was her loom, much of her jewelry, and a mirror of polished brass that had been a gift from Tullia.
A magnificent tapestry depicting the tale of the First of Fathers had adorned the inside of Sifma’s house.That was pulled down and used to decorate the edges of her grave, the painstaking detail and meticulous designs buried beneath the earth.
Gistrid was buried with just a few of her own goods surrounding her, the cushions and furs that had adorned her house.
The graves were sealed at midday when the sun was at its brightest, ensuring that the spirits of the dead would not be wandering and become lost.Drums beat to draw the attention of the gods, hopefully to earn their protection over the dead.
Brynn stood beside Vana, watching with the other onlookers as Ovrek and Tolvir cracked open casks of ale and poured them out over the freshly turned earth.
Vana wept silently, Hróarr’s arm around her.The tall mercenary glared at Brynn every so often, but he had been doing that ever since Ovrek had asked him to take Tolvir onto his ship.Hróarr had agreed—it wasn’t the sort of request that could be refused—but he hadn’t wanted to.Brynn admitted that some dark, spiteful part of her enjoyed that.
Cenric watched beside Brynn, a jarl now as well as an alderman.Guin leaned against her feet, and Esa and Kalen stood at their backs.
It was difficult to reflect on the past few weeks.Nothing had changed and at the same time, everything had.
Brynn squeezed Cenric’s hand as the drums continued to beat.
24
Cenric
Littleaboutthesepastweeks in Valdar had been enjoyable.Cenric was returning richer than he had left, laden with cloth, ivory, and furs his men had traded for, but also gifts of walrus ivory, silver cups, lapis lazuli beads, and iron ingots from Ovrek.
The king always gave good gifts, but that he was still giving so generously after the grievous blows of the past month was telling.He wanted Cenric’s alliance.
He doubted he would be able to forget that Ovrek had considered trying to take Brynn for Tolvir.For now, he took Brynn’s advice and pretended not to know.Deep down, he vowed never to trust Ovrek again.
Loading his ship in Istra’s harbor, Cenric was glad to be leaving.Valdar was in his blood, but it was not in his bones the way Ombra was.He was eager to return home.
A yelp caught Cenric’s attention.He turned to see Tolvir rubbing his head, glaring at Hróarr from the deck of Hróarr’s ship.It seemed the man had tossed one of the bags up and Tolvir had not caught it fast enough.
“Watch yourself!”the boy snapped.
“Watch your surroundings,” Hróarr answered drily.“I called out, but you didn’t respond.”
“You have no right—”
Hróarr hurled another of the bags, this one even bigger than the first.It hit Tolvir square in the chest, and the young man stumbled back, fighting to catch it.Hróarr had volunteered to accompany Cenric back to Ombra before he headed south once again.It was only fitting that a jarl had a vanguard, Ovrek had said.
