Chapter 29
A Trio of Daggers
Castle servants added pine scented juniper branches to the garlands of dark green ivy hanging over the enormous hearth. Under Oda’s watchful supervision, others strung the aromatic greenery along the wooden walls and tall windows, decorating the expansive Great Hall in preparation for the feast to welcome Ylva and Skårde. Sif and Inga scattered rosemary, thyme, and lavender into the fresh rushes covering the earthen floor, while Elfi tucked wild roses, meadowsweet blossoms, and chamomile blooms into the leafy vines. As she nestled a pinkéglantineamong the glossy foliage, Elfi heard the sentinel holler from the north watchtower overlooking the cliff and the Narrow Sea. “Vessel sighted!Thor’s Roarapproaches from the east.”
Njörd, Bjarke, and Varg—training in the courtyard with Áki and the Danish warriors from Ribe—dashed down to dock at the base of the cliff to greet the arriving ship. While the steward ordered attendants to prepare baths and serve refreshments in the guest quarters where Skårde, Ylva, and Vivi could relax and rest after the long voyage, Elfi and Oda hurried outside to watch the dragon ship sail into the harbor of Étretat.
Gulls squawked and soared amidst the cloud-streaked sky. Waves slammed against the white chalk cliffs, the sea foam spraying high into the air, wafting on the crisp saline breeze. As the cold wind whipped her long hair and slapped her stinging cheeks, Elfi stood beside herammain the wildflower-strewn meadow near the castle,gazing at the Narrow Sea two hundred feet below.
The curved cliff sheltered the inlet where Thorfinn’s ships and Njörd’s fleet from Ribe were anchored in the shallow waters. Elfi spotted Njörd and Áki leading a group of Danish warriors down the grassy slope to join Bjarke and Varg’s men on the pebbled shore whereThor’s Roardisembarked onto the wooden dock. From her perspective at the top of the cliff, she recognized the dark green and silver heraldic banner and distinctly carved dragon prow of Skårde the Scourge, the bearded blond brute once known as theDragon of Denmark, now theDragon of Normandyand Count of thePays de Caux. Beside the towering, tattooed Viking giant clad in the emerald and silver colors of his coat of arms, Elfi glimpsed his golden-haired wife Ylva. A skilled Celtic healer blessed with otherworldlysight, the lovely daughter ofJarl Rikardcured with Druidic herbs, Nordicgaldrmagic, and theLjósálfargift ofnen glir.
While Njörd greeted Skårde and helped Ylva disembark, Bjarke guided a young blonde girl down the wooden plank from thedrakkarlongship onto the bustling dock.That must be Vivi, Elfi mused. The child was tall and slim, with long blonde hair like both of her parents.
As men unloaded thedrakkarlongship, Njörde escorted Ylva, and Skårde led his daughter, up the narrow path from the rocky beach to join Elfi and Oda at the top of the craggy cliff.
“Greetings, Lord Skårde and Lady Ylva! It is a pleasure to see you again.” Oda smiled as Skårde gallantly kissed her gnarled hand. “Ylva--you remember my granddaughter Elfi. It has been several years since you’ve seen her.”
Ylva’s lovely smile lit up her pretty face. Although small lines now appeared around her bright blue eyes, and silver streaked her long blonde hair, at nearly forty winters, the Countess of thePays de Cauxstill exuded the beauty of her youth. “Of course I remember her!” Ylva kissed Elfi’s cheek. “But now, you’re a full grown woman. And a very lovely one at that.” She gestured to the blonde girl at her side, who stared at her feet and wrung her hands. “This is our daughter Vivi. She is learning to become a healer, like me.” Ylva introduced the femaleservant of middle years standing patiently behind Vivi. “And this is Norhild. She will attend Vivi during ourséjouratChâteau Blanc.”
“Welcome, Vivi. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Elfi smiled at the shy young girl whose dark blue eyes glimmered with keen intelligence.Perhaps like her brother Skjöld, Vivi inherited her mother’s otherworldly gift of sight.She nodded to the pleasant attendant. “Welcome, Norhild. There is a bed set up for you in Vivi’s guest room. I’m sure you will be quite comfortable there.”
Norhild politely bowed her head. “Merci beaucoup, Madame.”
With an affable smile, Oda welcomed the weary travelers..“Please, everyone--come into the castle. Servants shall escort you to your guest chambers where you may bathe, enjoy the refreshments, and rest after your long voyage. Tonight, we shall feast in the Great Hall.”
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Ethereal notes of harps, flutes, and lyres floated in the festive air as castle musicians entertained guests feasting in the Great Hall. Steaming platters of clams, scallops, and oysters were followed by succulent boar dripping with honey, baked cod with fresh thyme, garlic, and butter, and frumenty porridge with venison, barley, and leeks. After the final dessert course of wild plumtartes aux mirabelles,apple pastries, honey cakes with cinnamon and cloves, and rolled dates stuffed with sweet almond filling, Norhild escorted Vivi to bed. The weary girl kissed her parents, said goodnight to the adults at the table, and departed with her dutiful attendant. Bustling servants quickly cleared the tables and refilled mugs of mead for the much-anticipated competition of skalds.
Thorfinn’s poet Egil played his lute to accompanyThe Stolen Sword and the Sacred Grove, his skaldic rendition of Elfi’s vow to reclaimGaladirand bury it honorably beside her fallen brother Dag. The skald Bragi—Ylva’s poet fromChâteaufort—performedThe Dragon’s Roar,an epic tale of how Skårde the Scourge,son of King Harald Bluetooth, allied with Richard the Fearless to defeat the Franks in the valiant victory at Fécamp. The Danish skald Stig—Njörd’s poet from Ribe--enhanced his song with the haunting melodies of lyre and flute. He entertained the enthralled audience withThe Sea Wolf and the Dwarven Sword,the saga of theWolf of the Nordic Seasand the fateful prophecy to be fulfilled in the upcoming voyage toÍsland.
At the table of honor upon the elevated wooden dais, Elfi sat between Oda and Njörd, across from Ylva and Skårde, who were flanked by Luna and Lugh. Elfi had never met the beautifulLjósálfarhealer, whose pale blonde hair, long limbs, and emerald eyes were very much like her brother’s. At the base of Luna’s slender throat, a trio of moonstone gems glowed with iridescent light.
TheÚlfhéðnarwere also seated at the head table, along with Úlvhild, Varg, and Bjarke. Áki, at Njörd’s other side, leaned forward to address Njáll. Although he spoke to the dark haired wolf warrior, Áki’s booming voice seemed directed at Bodo instead. “Njörd’s skald Stig sang of Ísland…” he bellowed, catching the attention of all at the table. “Where you andBodo le Boîteux,”he jeered the insulting name, “received Light Elven daggers, crafted by the famedLjósálfarGeralt.” A sly grin stretched across his bearded face, and challenge glinted in his dark, cunning eyes.
“Indeed we did.” Njáll leaned back on the wooden bench and withdrew an intricate dagger from the sheath at his waist. The curved blade, etched with Elven scrolls, ended in a sharp, lethal point. Nordic runes were engraved into the silver crossguard, and agildirstarstone—like the one in Lugh’s radiant brooch which gleamed upon his broad shoulder— glittered like an otherworldly eye in the elaborate pommel. “Veldir.” Veneration laced Njáll’s deep, vibrant voice. “Bladestone. Named for thegildirgem in the hilt cap.” He handed the dagger to Áki, who admired theLjósálfarblade before returning it to Njáll.
The burly blond Dane reached for the dagger sheathed at his own sinewy waist.
Embedded in the black snakeskin leather of an intriguing scabbard were three dark gems that glistened in the incandescent light. Áki unsheathed the blade, the black obsidian stone in the elaborate hilt glowing, as if pulsing with radiant power.
“Hrafnaugr. Eye of the Raven. A Rus fur trader from Novgorod sold it to me in the village. He’d bought it in a Byzantine market on the Black Sea.” Áki displayed the magnificent dagger, turning it in his hand so the faceted black gem sparkled like a midnight star. When he returned the blade to its snakeskin scabbard, he sneered at theÚlfhéðinnwarriorseatedbeside Njáll. “Where is yourLjósálfardagger,Bodo le Boîteux?”
Seething at the scathing name, Bodo clenched his jaw to repress his rage. He withdrew his dagger, but did not hand it to Áki. Instead, he displayed it for all to see, obviously pleased at Elfi’s exclamations of delight.
“It’s magnificent! Like Njáll’s, it’s engraved with Nordic runes and Elven scrolls. With agildirstarstone in the hilt.” But unlike Njáll’s curved blade, Bodo’s dagger was sleek and straight, tapering to a needle-like point.
“Rúnvarg,” he proudly proclaimed. “Wolfrune. Crafted by theLjósálfarGeralt in Ísland, where Njáll and I brought Njörd’s wounded father Brökk to be healed.”
While Bodo sheathed his Light Elven dagger, lively music filled the air. Couples swirled in the center of the Great Hall, and others filtered outdoors to dance around the roaring bonfire. Just as Njörd grasped Elfi’s hand to lead her outside under the stars, Áki challenged Bodo and Njáll. “I wager twenty pieces of silver that I can throw this dagger,” he taunted, waving it in front of their faces, “better than either of you can hurl yourLjósálfarblades. I challenge you both. One throw each at the target outside. Closest to the center wins. What say you, warrior wolves of theÚlfhéðnar?”
Before either man could respond, Hrólf Redbeard—seatedbeside Bodo—shouted, “Side wagers over here!”
Bodo bolted to his feet, his feral gaze locked upon Áki. “Challengeaccepted.” He unfastened a leather pouch from his waist and placed twenty silver coins on the table. While Njáll ducked his bearded chin in consent and counted his pieces of silver, Bodo glanced at Sif, who watched him from a nearby table, a pewter pitcher of mead tightly clutched in her hands.
“Fifty silver pieces on Bodo.” Njörd handed a leather pouch to Hrólf Redbeard as others rushed to place their wagers before dashing outside where the dagger competition would take place.
Úlvhild guided Oda down the wooden steps of the dais, following Ylva, Skårde, Lugh, and Luna out the castle doors. While the musicians continued to play for a few oblivious guests who remained on the dance floor, most of the curious spectators flocked outdoors, anxious to see which of the warriors would win the exciting challenge.
