A tangy saline breeze cooled the crisp night under a blanket of twinkling stars. The bonfire crackled, spewing golden sparks high into the moonlit sky. Spectators settled onto wooden benches, flat rocks, or the grassy meadow to watch the trio of competitors who would soon hurl their daggers at the wooden target with a red painted center affixed to the giant oak.
Tightly clutching Njörd’s calloused hand, Elfi scanned the animated throng gathered on either side of the clearing. She spotted Sif with Inge and Vilde, pouring mugs of mead for raucous revelers on wooden benches under the canopy of trees.
Njáll, his dark head towering over everyone—even the giant Áki—approached the target, aligned his sinewy, lupine body, and embedded hisVeldirblade in the center of the painted circle.
TheÚlfhéðnarpackhowled with riotous, enthusiastic applause.
As Bodo positioned himself and prepared to throw, Áki sauntered over to Sif, who attempted to ignore his overt advances and refill goblets of mead. The boorish brute lavished her with loud amorous attention in an obvious attempt to rattle Bodo and ruin his aim.
Rather than hurling his dagger at the target, Bodo flung himself at Áki, hisLjósálfarblade poised for a potentially lethal blow.
With the preternatural speed of theÚlfhéðnar,Úlf pounced on Bodo, spinning him away from Áki, who had drawn his own dagger and lashed out in a defensive strike. The Byzantine blade sliced Úlf’s forearm instead of Bodo’s throat, while Njörd restrained the enraged Dane in a grappling hold around his bulging neck.
Livid with fury, Áki struggled against the vicelike grip, his teeth bared in a snarl.
“Stand down!”Njörd bellowed in Áki’s ear. When the Danishhuscarlfinally grunted in gruff acquiescence, Njörd released him warily.
Without a word, still seething with fury, Áki stomped across the clearing and—joined by a dozen warriors from Ribe—stormed off toward the Viking longhouse where Njörd and his men resided.
Amidst murmurs of shock, outrage, and dissatisfaction with the unexpected turn of events, Hrólf Redbeard shouted above the clamorous din. “Áki and Bodo are hereby disqualified for fighting. I declare Njáll the winner!” He gestured to the silver pieces on the table before him, representing the stakes placed on the contestants. “Those who wagered on Njáll—come collect your earnings!”
While the disgruntled crowd slowly accepted the dubious resolution, the musicians resumed their play, the frenetic beat perfect for inviting wild abandon. Warriors and widows flocked to the bonfire, swirling around the leaping flames. As the mead flowed freely, the throng was jubilant once more, the altercation soon forgotten.
Ylva, Úlvhild, and Luna were tending Úlf’s injured arm as Elfi joined them at the edge of the clearing. Surrounded by concerned onlookers, Skårde, Njörd, Bodo, and Njáll watched the healers bandage the bloody wound.
“It’s not deep—just a narrow slice on the surface of the skin. I’ve cleansed it with mead and applied a garlic and honey salve.” Ylva, the Celtic healer with Druidic knowledge of herbs, wrapped Úlf’s injuredarm with strips of soft white linen, which Úlvhild secured with a snug overhand knot. “It will heal quickly.”
“Odin be praised! We finish loading the three ships tomorrow— and depart at first light the following morn. Úlf will sail onDrakkúlfrwith us,” Njörd announced to Elfi and Úlvhild.
“The voyage will take two to three weeks, so he’ll be fully healed by the time we arrive in Ísland. I’ll bring my satchel of herbs and ointments. With plenty of linen to change the bandages and keep the wound clean.” Úlvhild tucked the jar of salve into her leather satchel and rose from the bench where she had been sitting beside Úlf.
“Come, I’ll take you back to the longhouse.” Njáll glanced around at the dwindling crowd. Although some couples were still dancing, most of the guests had gone back to the village or had filtered into the castle to sleep on benches in the Great Hall. “The feast is over. Everyone has gone home. And you need to rest.” When Njáll turned to say goodnight to Luna, Elfi sensed a sizzling current spark between the luminousLsósálfarhealer and the darkÚlfhéðnarwarrior as he took hold of her pale hand and lowered his bearded lips to bestow a respectful, grateful kiss. “Thank you for healing him, my lady.”
Luna’s dark green eyes glistened like deep emeralds. “You are most welcome.” She watched as Njáll rose back up to his full, towering height. A radiant smile illuminated her lovely face. “I shall also sail onDrakkúlfrto Ísland--to help Úlvhild keep an eye on our patient.” She grinned atÚlfbefore returning her verdant gaze to Njáll. “Perhaps you can voyage with us as well.” Her expectant look conveyed just how much she would enjoy his company on the long sea voyage.
“I’ll make certain that I do.” Promise shining in his dark eyes as he held Luna’s gaze. Njáll slipped an arm under Úlf’s shoulder and hoisted him to his feet. “Goodnight, everyone. See you in the morning.” With Hrólf Redbeard and Flóki close behind, Njáll helped Úlf across the clearing, toward the longhouse near the castle that theÚlfhéðnarshared.
Ylva and Skårde, weary from the exhausting day, thanked Oda, Elfi, and Njörd for the welcoming feast and retired to their guest chambers, escorted by castle servants. After Oda said goodnight and headed into the castle with Vilde, Sif joined Bodo, standing at Njörd’s side.
“The tables are all wiped down, the dishes taken to the kitchen for cleaning. Everything’s done for the evening.” She grinned at Elfi. “I’ll escort you up to your chambers, as if I’m getting you ready for bed.” Her large brown eyes widened with excitement as she looked at Bodo. “You and Njörd come into the castle through the tunnel. I’ll unlock the door at the bottom of the stairs.”
Elfi and Sif each kissed their men and watched their wolf warriors leave before heading into the castle. When they entered Elfi’s chamber, Sif stoked the flames in the hearth and descended the hidden stairwell to unlock the heavy door while Elfi unbraided her own hair. A few moments later, when the anticipated knock sounded behind the tapestry, Sif grabbed a torch from the hall and departed with Bodo while Njörd entered Elfi’s room.
As slivers of moonlight streamed through the window on a crisp saline breeze, Elfi and Njörd spent the delicious night in her sumptuous feather bed.
****
When Njörd returned to his longhouse in the morning, Áki and several Danes were finishingdagmálof baked cod, barley porridge, salted pork, andskyr.At the sight of their jarl coming through the open door, the men inclined their heads in respect and dispersed, leaving Njörd and his second in command alone at the table.
“I’m leaving on the outgoing tide,” Áki announced, deliberately avoiding Njörd’s gaze. “Now that Skårde and his men have arrived fromChâteaufort, you no longer need me here to defend Étretat.” He downed the rest of his ale. “I’ll take two ships—with a crew of thirty warriors each—and return to Denmark.”When Áki finally looked at Njörd, anger blazed across his livid, bearded face. “We didn’t come to Normandy to repair castle walls, till farmlands, or harvest crops. Thor’s balls, Njörd! We came here to fight the Franks!” He leapt to his feet, ready to depart. Indignation and resentment sharpened his steely tone. “I’ll take sixty men back toHeiðabýr.” Áki scoffed in disgust. “Skårde the Scourge is no longer theDragon of Denmark. But his brother, Sweyn Forkbeard, is the new king. Andheis raiding and conquering lands— in East Anglia, Northumbria, and Mercia. Battling Saxons, Christians, and Franks!” Spittle flew from Áki’s furious lips. As he swiped the sleeve of his tunic across his beard, a frantic messenger appeared in the doorway.
“Jarl Njörd…Lord Áki!” The winded servant struggled to catch his breath. “Lady Elfi has summoned you both to the castle. Come at once to the Great Hall!” He pointed to the sheathed blade strapped upon Áki’s hip. “My lord,” he stammered, “she requests that you bring your Byzantine dagger. Please hurry!”
Chapter 30
A Trinity of Ljósálfar Healers
Near the roaring flames of the massive stone hearth, Úlf was lying on a straw pallet upon the floor of the Great Hall where Úlvhild and Ylva knelt at his side, examining the injured arm. TheÚlfhéðnar,several knights, and castle servants hovered nearby, watching with Oda, Elfi, and Skårde as the two healers tended the atrocious wound. Even from this distance as Njörd entered the vast chamber, he could see that the ugly gash had poisoned.
