Úlvhild donned her white catskin gloves and her lynx fur cloak, grasping her moonstone staff near the wall by the heavy oak door.
Together, they exited the castle and headed toward the grassy path that led down to the pebbled shore, where a crowd had gathered to see the nine ships set sail for Paris.
Into the small fire which crackled inside a circle of stones, Úlvhild tossed juniper berries, meadowsweet, and thyme. The crisp, cleansing scent of herbs mingled with the salty spray of the sea.
At the top of the cliff, Elfi bid Njörd a tearful farewell, for she was much too heavy with child to follow the treacherous path down to the shore. Njörd reluctantly withdrew from her embrace, descended the path, and leapt onto hisDrakkÍúlfrship.
Ylva, Vivi, Skadi, and Skjöld bid goodbye to Tryggvi, at the helm ofVindbjörn—Wind Bear—the fierce black bear on the vivid blue sail snapping in the gusty wind. They embraced Skårde, whosedrakkar,Thor’s Roar, bore the image ofMjöllnir, its hammer crackling with jagged streaks of lightning—a bold reminder of the Thunder God’s mark upon the commander of the ship.
In the harbor, ready to sail to the mouth of the Seine with Njörd, Úlf stood at the helm ofHrafnvarg, while Hrölf Redbeard commandedSköllrökr.Atop the mast of eachdrakkar, the heraldic banner of theWolf of the Nordic Seas—a fierce white wolf on a field of deep green, outlined in embroidered silver runes—flapped and snapped in the briny breeze.
Haldor bid farewell to theBlóðsmiðrcrew aboardFreyja’s Falcon.Abovethe carved image of Freyja at the prow—a spear clutched in her right hand, a peregrine perched on her left—the iridescent silver and blue feathers of the dark brown falcon in flightglinted across the pale cream sail. While Gråskegg andBjarni stood on the deck, Yrjar waited with watchers on the shore, for theberserkerwould ride into battle alongside Haldor and Skjöld.
Skjöld spoke to Hjálmarr and the crew ofDragonfire, the blue dragon woven into the Sámi sail of hissnekkjaas fierce as the sinuous beast coiled around his neck beneath the white bearskin cloak. Billowing in the briny breeze, the blue beast on the sail roared above the dragon prow carved by Gunnar, skilled woodcutter of the dwarf Dvalinn. Nearby, his new shipHrímdrekifloated on the white-capped waves, the silver scales of thefrostdragonon its blue sail and proud prow shimmering with iridescent violet in the misty morning sun.
On the shore, Haldor inscribed runes in the sand with the end of his Dwarven spear. Skjöld joined him, drawing Sámi symbols with bare, calloused hands and softly chanting ajoik.
As they had done to bless the ships sailing to Ísland, Ylva sliced the bodies of three fish, and Vivi collected the sacrificial blood in a sacred silver bowl while Úlvhild thumped her moonstone staff on the rocky beach strewn with seaweed. The trio of their melodic voices echoed off the white chalk cliffs, floating over the Narrow Sea.
Therapt crowd watched as Úlvhild removed her catskin gloves and carried the silver bowl of sacrificial blood to the ninelongships beached upon the shore. Dipping her bare fingers into the red liquid, she anointed the dragon prows of eachship, invoking the blessing of the gods.
“O Rán and Njord, by the sacred blood of this sacrifice, I bind these ships to you. May your waves grant them safe passage, your winds fill their sails, and your divine blessing guide them to victory at sea.”
Úlvhild poured the sacred blood from the silver bowl into the waves lapping at the pebbled shore. Vivi tossed fragrant primrose blossoms and sweet violets into the frothy sea. And Ylva poured mead from the same silver chalice they had used in crafting the protective talismans which their men now wore beneathglinting armor as they sailed on the tide off to war.
Single ships carefully maneuvered out of the sheltered port, their dragon prows cutting through the churning surf as they formed ordered pairs behind Njord’s flagship,Drakkúfr. When Kjártan blew the long horn, its deep note echoed off the white chalk cliffs, signaling the fleet’s departure. Oars slapped against the rolling surf, sails flapped in the salty wind, and the ninedrakkardisappeared on the horizon, sailing west to the mouth of the Seine.
As the main fleet sailed west on the outgoing tide, Skårde sailedThor’s Roareast to his clifftop castle ofChâteaufort. There, he would disembark and lead an army of three hundred mounted warriors to meet their allies in the dense forest east of Lâon, where they would await the arrival of Jarl Rikard and Hugh Capet.
The crowd that had gathered on the shore to watch the fleet depart now climbed the grassy path to the top of the cliff. Amid snorting steeds and stomping hooves, Thorfinn’s fifty knights prepared to ride southeast to meet Jarl Rikard’s forces in Rouen.
As the early spring wind whipped cloaks and banners, the tangy brine of the sea mingling with the crip pine scent of the nearby forest, Úlvhild watched Haldor mount his magnificent chestnut Friesian, Bruni.
O, Freyja, how I love him. May the talisman which carries your blessing—bound in my blood and breath—shield him in battle. And guide his flight home to me.
Ylva brought Úlvhild a silver bowl which contained the blood of a goat which had been sacrificed at dawn, for her to bless the mounted warriors riding to Rouen. Along the rim of the silver bowl, etched runes and embedded gems glittered in the morning sun.
As she, Ylva, and Vivi chanted avardlokkurto summon spirits and the gods in blessing, Úlvhild dipped bare fingers into the coppery blood, anointing each warrior who would ride the harrowing trail to war. Mounted knights leaned forward in their saddles as she touched foreheads and talismans, the sacred blessing passing from hervölvahands into their valiant Vikinghearts. Ylva and Vivi moved along the line, tracing protective runes on shoulders, shields, and swords.
Úlvhild fought back tears as she blessed Thorfinn, who led the column of men to Rouen. Each of theLjósálfarriding with Thorfinn into battle— Lugh, Ildris, Aryndor, and Veldar—leaned down to receive the blood blessing of Úlvhild’s sacredtouch, the shimmering scales of theirfrostdragonarmor glimmering in the early spring sun. She anointed the foreheads of Bodo and Flóki beneath the thick fur of their wolfskin cloaks, their lupine nostrils flaring at the coppery tang of fresh blood.
Vivi handed her brother Skjöld the garnet talisman she had crafted for Jarl Rikard. “Please give this toGrand-pèreand tell him I sealed it in blood and breath with the blessing of Tyr.”
“I promise.” Skjöld accepted the black leather pouch, securing it at his waist beside Haldor’s gifted dagger with its glittering lapis lazuli stone. He leaned down to kiss Vivi’s and Ylva’s cheeks, then waited for Úlvhild to anoint his forehead, thetrollkorstalisman that Elfi had given him, and the lapis amulet imbued with hisMaman’sbreath and blood.
Úlvhild blessed Skadi next, then Luna and Njáll, the amber eyes of his black wolfskin cloak gleaming with fierce lupine light. At Luna’s slim waist,leather pouches of healing herbs,gildirstarstones, and flasks of sacred water from the Ísilwen Spring ofÁlfheimhung from herdragonscalebelt.
When she anointed Haldor’s fiercely painted, beloved face and the sacred amber talisman, Úlvhild’s legs shook under her deep purple gown.
As his ardent lips met hers for the last time, theseiðfjáðrrune burned at her breast, and the babe in her womb stirred at herfaðir’stouch.“I love you, my Falcon,” she whispered. “May Freyja’s blessing—sealed in my blood and breath—bring you safely back to me.”
Gulls and gannets squawked in the pale sky, the pungent scent of herbs from the sacrificial fire wafting into the salty breeze. Úlvhild’svölvavoice floated over Thorfinn’swarband, invoking the blessing of the watchful gods.
“By Odin’s eye, Thor’s strength, and Freyja’s favor,” she intoned, her chant carrying across the snowy glen and the chalky cliffs. “With this sacrificial blood, I bind you to victory on the fields of battle. May your swords strike true, your shields hold fast, and your courage never falter. Return safely to thePays de Caux, and may your valor echo through the ages.”
Waves crashed against the cliffs.
Salt spray stung her cheeks.
