us.”
“I like a pretty now and then.” She fingered her money.
He took three ribbons from his sleeve and draped them over her shoulder. He had bought them for her in the market. She caught them up, crowing. “Bear. My favorite colors, too.” She rushed around the room hunting for her looking glass. “Silly old Bear.” She tied her red hair up in the blue ribbon.
Bjarni sat down on the bed. “I am going to Iceland. The king has found a ship for me.”
She wheeled toward him, her face taut. Her eyes moved, taking in his new clothes. “Oh,” she said. “What of me?”
“If you wish, you can go with me.”
“I wish it.”
“I am a farmer in Iceland, you know—it’s a hard living. We work all day.”
She leaned against his side and slid her arm around him. “I will work.”
He thought of Hiyke and of his father. What would happen between them would follow in its own time. He was ready: more than ready.
“What will your family think of me?” Gifu asked.
“We will learn that when we get home,” Bjarni said.
PART TWO
HIYKE AND HOSKULD slept together in the big carved bed he had built for his first wife. One night, when Swan had been gone more than a month, a sound woke Hiyke.
Hoskuld snored in the dark beside her. She climbed down from the bed and stood below the gutskin window in the ceiling.
“Who is there?”
“Mother,” a voice whispered, through the window.
It was Kristjan’s voice. She put her feet into her boots and pulled her shawl around her. Hoskuld slept on. She went out down the darkened hall to the door into the yard.
Soft snow was falling. Kristjan came to her and pulled her by the hand across the frozen yard toward the barn.
“Mother,” he said, when they were inside the barn, and embraced her. One hand on his chest, she forced them apart.
“So you came back,” she said. “Where are the rest?”
“In the ship,” he said.
“And you want me to smooth things over for you with Hoskuld.”
“Mother, he will heed you. Besides, it was all Bjarni’s doing.”
She was shivering. Her feet were cold. In the back of the barn a horse snuffled. She said, “Tell Bjarni himself to talk to Hoskuld,” and turned back to the door.
“Bjarni is dead,” Kristjan said.
That silenced her a moment. Presently, facing him again, she said, “What happened?”
“I am cold, Mother. That’s a story for the hearth. Talk to Hoskuld for us.”
“You good-for-nothing,” she said. “You think so little of me.” She spat off to his left. “I regret that I am your mother.”
“Who is this?” Hoskuld said, behind her.
Barefoot, in his nightshirt, he came in through the door. He carried the axe in one hand.
“Oh,” he said, and strode toward Kristjan. “It’s your cub. Where are mine?”
She pulled Kristjan behind her. “They are nearby. I don’t care what you do with them, but leave him alone.”
“It was all Bjarni’s idea,” Kristjan said, over her shoulder. “We came back as soon as he was dead.”
“Dead.” Hoskuld lowered his hands. “You are sure? You saw him dead?”
“Not exactly—Sigurd took him. We stole Sigurd’s daughter. Bjarni fell to them.” Kristjan was leaning over Hiyke’s shoulder to speak to his stepfather. His breath grazed her ear. “We came straight back, I swear it, as she is honest.”
Hoskuld laughed. He took Hiyke by the hand and nodded to Kristjan. “They can come back.” He led her out through the snowy yard to the bedroom door. More than once he laughed.
THE GIRL WITH ULF was tall and fair. Her face was lovely. Hiyke sat beside Hoskuld in the High Seat; she saw how her husband looked at the girl.
“You are Sigurd’s daughter,” Hoskuld said. “You favor him. He was always a handsome man.” He ignored his three sons, standing behind her. “Are you here of your own will?”
“Yes, my lord,” the girl whispered.
“I am going to marry her,” Ulf said.
“What is your name?” Hoskuld
“I like a pretty now and then.” She fingered her money.
He took three ribbons from his sleeve and draped them over her shoulder. He had bought them for her in the market. She caught them up, crowing. “Bear. My favorite colors, too.” She rushed around the room hunting for her looking glass. “Silly old Bear.” She tied her red hair up in the blue ribbon.
Bjarni sat down on the bed. “I am going to Iceland. The king has found a ship for me.”
She wheeled toward him, her face taut. Her eyes moved, taking in his new clothes. “Oh,” she said. “What of me?”
“If you wish, you can go with me.”
“I wish it.”
“I am a farmer in Iceland, you know—it’s a hard living. We work all day.”
She leaned against his side and slid her arm around him. “I will work.”
He thought of Hiyke and of his father. What would happen between them would follow in its own time. He was ready: more than ready.
“What will your family think of me?” Gifu asked.
“We will learn that when we get home,” Bjarni said.
PART TWO
HIYKE AND HOSKULD slept together in the big carved bed he had built for his first wife. One night, when Swan had been gone more than a month, a sound woke Hiyke.
Hoskuld snored in the dark beside her. She climbed down from the bed and stood below the gutskin window in the ceiling.
“Who is there?”
“Mother,” a voice whispered, through the window.
It was Kristjan’s voice. She put her feet into her boots and pulled her shawl around her. Hoskuld slept on. She went out down the darkened hall to the door into the yard.
Soft snow was falling. Kristjan came to her and pulled her by the hand across the frozen yard toward the barn.
“Mother,” he said, when they were inside the barn, and embraced her. One hand on his chest, she forced them apart.
“So you came back,” she said. “Where are the rest?”
“In the ship,” he said.
“And you want me to smooth things over for you with Hoskuld.”
“Mother, he will heed you. Besides, it was all Bjarni’s doing.”
She was shivering. Her feet were cold. In the back of the barn a horse snuffled. She said, “Tell Bjarni himself to talk to Hoskuld,” and turned back to the door.
“Bjarni is dead,” Kristjan said.
That silenced her a moment. Presently, facing him again, she said, “What happened?”
“I am cold, Mother. That’s a story for the hearth. Talk to Hoskuld for us.”
“You good-for-nothing,” she said. “You think so little of me.” She spat off to his left. “I regret that I am your mother.”
“Who is this?” Hoskuld said, behind her.
Barefoot, in his nightshirt, he came in through the door. He carried the axe in one hand.
“Oh,” he said, and strode toward Kristjan. “It’s your cub. Where are mine?”
She pulled Kristjan behind her. “They are nearby. I don’t care what you do with them, but leave him alone.”
“It was all Bjarni’s idea,” Kristjan said, over her shoulder. “We came back as soon as he was dead.”
“Dead.” Hoskuld lowered his hands. “You are sure? You saw him dead?”
“Not exactly—Sigurd took him. We stole Sigurd’s daughter. Bjarni fell to them.” Kristjan was leaning over Hiyke’s shoulder to speak to his stepfather. His breath grazed her ear. “We came straight back, I swear it, as she is honest.”
Hoskuld laughed. He took Hiyke by the hand and nodded to Kristjan. “They can come back.” He led her out through the snowy yard to the bedroom door. More than once he laughed.
THE GIRL WITH ULF was tall and fair. Her face was lovely. Hiyke sat beside Hoskuld in the High Seat; she saw how her husband looked at the girl.
“You are Sigurd’s daughter,” Hoskuld said. “You favor him. He was always a handsome man.” He ignored his three sons, standing behind her. “Are you here of your own will?”
“Yes, my lord,” the girl whispered.
“I am going to marry her,” Ulf said.
“What is your name?” Hoskuld
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