throne like sentinels behind him, one on either side.
Gunnar stood for a moment, taking it all in, amazed he was truly
there.
But then he remembered all that had gone before and resentment swelled in his heart. “I suppose I should thank you,” he said. “You were generous to me at the God House, and I would have drowned if you hadn’t given me that knife in Kaupang. But why did you let it all happen? Why did I have to suffer?”
The ravens squawked, but Odin just laughed. “If I didn’t know before that you weren’t afraid of anything, I’d know now,” he said. “How many other boys would talk to me like that? How many men?”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
Odin sighed. “I can’t control what happens in your world, Gunnar. Skuli was right about man being wolf to man. You mortals do terrible things to one another – always have done, always will. But Rurik was right as well. It is the Norns who weave everyone’s fates, even mine. There is no escape from fate.”
“So why did you help me?”
“Because you made me an offering of the only precious thing you had.” Odin held out a hand – and showed him Father’s amulet in his broad palm.
How strange to see it after all this time, Gunnar thought, and to know in whose palm it lay. But how fitting too. His journey had begun with the amulet, and now the journey was ending with it. It seemed his quest
was
over, although he had another question he hardly dared ask. Gunnar raised his eyes to Odin.
“Is my father here?” he said, his voice a whisper. “Can I see him?”
“Turn around, Gunnar,” said Odin. “He has been waiting for you.”
Gunnar did as he was told. Father was behind him, smiling as he always used to when Gunnar came home to the steading after a day running wild in the forest or out along the Great Fjord. He was dressed as he had been on the night of the hall burning, but there was no bloodstain on his tunic.
“Is it really you, Father?” said Gunnar, his heart leaping.
“Yes, Gunnar,” said Father, hugging him. “It’s really me.”
Gunnar hugged him back, surprised to find himself as tall as Father now. He stood back to look in Father’s eyes, then turned to face Odin. “I have one last favour to ask of you,” he said. “Will you let my father come home?”
The smile on Odin’s face vanished like the sun behind a thunder cloud, and he uttered five words that hit Gunnar like hammer blows.
“No, that can never be.”
E IGHTEEN
C UTTING THE T HREADS
F OR A MOMENT Gunnar was too shocked, too disappointed to speak. “But I swore on the blood of my ancestors!” he managed to splutter at last. “I need Father to come home with me so he can kill Skuli and Grim and save Mother…”
“
You
swore the oath, Gunnar,” said Odin. “So only
you
can fulfil it. To avenge your father’s death you will have to kill Skuli in single combat.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that at the God House?” said Gunnar, his heart filling with anger and resentment again. “You could have saved me a lot of trouble.”
“Ah, but you needed the trouble,” said Odin. “It was the only way.”
“Now you’re talking in riddles,” said Gunnar. “I don’t understand.”
“The instant you swore the blood oath you stepped into the world of men,” Father explained. “Odin set you on a path that would help you grow up quickly.”
“Is that why it had to be so hard? Is that why I had to be a
slave
?”
“I didn’t choose that for you, Gunnar,” said Odin, shrugging. “It was what happened to you on your journey, that’s all. Still, it seems to have worked.”
“Odin is right, you’re not a boy any more,” said Father. “And I’m not just talking about you being taller. I’ve seen what you’ve done, what you’ve suffered – Odin showed me everything. You might only be sixteen summers old, Gunnar, but you’re braver than most men twice your age. Rurik and Thorkel must think so or they would never have
Gunnar stood for a moment, taking it all in, amazed he was truly
there.
But then he remembered all that had gone before and resentment swelled in his heart. “I suppose I should thank you,” he said. “You were generous to me at the God House, and I would have drowned if you hadn’t given me that knife in Kaupang. But why did you let it all happen? Why did I have to suffer?”
The ravens squawked, but Odin just laughed. “If I didn’t know before that you weren’t afraid of anything, I’d know now,” he said. “How many other boys would talk to me like that? How many men?”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
Odin sighed. “I can’t control what happens in your world, Gunnar. Skuli was right about man being wolf to man. You mortals do terrible things to one another – always have done, always will. But Rurik was right as well. It is the Norns who weave everyone’s fates, even mine. There is no escape from fate.”
“So why did you help me?”
“Because you made me an offering of the only precious thing you had.” Odin held out a hand – and showed him Father’s amulet in his broad palm.
How strange to see it after all this time, Gunnar thought, and to know in whose palm it lay. But how fitting too. His journey had begun with the amulet, and now the journey was ending with it. It seemed his quest
was
over, although he had another question he hardly dared ask. Gunnar raised his eyes to Odin.
“Is my father here?” he said, his voice a whisper. “Can I see him?”
“Turn around, Gunnar,” said Odin. “He has been waiting for you.”
Gunnar did as he was told. Father was behind him, smiling as he always used to when Gunnar came home to the steading after a day running wild in the forest or out along the Great Fjord. He was dressed as he had been on the night of the hall burning, but there was no bloodstain on his tunic.
“Is it really you, Father?” said Gunnar, his heart leaping.
“Yes, Gunnar,” said Father, hugging him. “It’s really me.”
Gunnar hugged him back, surprised to find himself as tall as Father now. He stood back to look in Father’s eyes, then turned to face Odin. “I have one last favour to ask of you,” he said. “Will you let my father come home?”
The smile on Odin’s face vanished like the sun behind a thunder cloud, and he uttered five words that hit Gunnar like hammer blows.
“No, that can never be.”
E IGHTEEN
C UTTING THE T HREADS
F OR A MOMENT Gunnar was too shocked, too disappointed to speak. “But I swore on the blood of my ancestors!” he managed to splutter at last. “I need Father to come home with me so he can kill Skuli and Grim and save Mother…”
“
You
swore the oath, Gunnar,” said Odin. “So only
you
can fulfil it. To avenge your father’s death you will have to kill Skuli in single combat.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that at the God House?” said Gunnar, his heart filling with anger and resentment again. “You could have saved me a lot of trouble.”
“Ah, but you needed the trouble,” said Odin. “It was the only way.”
“Now you’re talking in riddles,” said Gunnar. “I don’t understand.”
“The instant you swore the blood oath you stepped into the world of men,” Father explained. “Odin set you on a path that would help you grow up quickly.”
“Is that why it had to be so hard? Is that why I had to be a
slave
?”
“I didn’t choose that for you, Gunnar,” said Odin, shrugging. “It was what happened to you on your journey, that’s all. Still, it seems to have worked.”
“Odin is right, you’re not a boy any more,” said Father. “And I’m not just talking about you being taller. I’ve seen what you’ve done, what you’ve suffered – Odin showed me everything. You might only be sixteen summers old, Gunnar, but you’re braver than most men twice your age. Rurik and Thorkel must think so or they would never have
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