Saga took a deep breath. Vigdis made sense, but it didn’t feel like the best solution.
“Maybe if you knew more about these men and their way of life,” Vigdis said. “Will you at least listen to what they have to say?”
Her sister always had a way of convincing her to do things to which she was first opposed. Was there any harm in listening to them?
* * *
To say Giric was impressed was an understatement. Gunnar had not only invited him and Osgar to stay for the evening, he also invited his men to join them and feast at his table. That would begin at sunset, a couple hours from now. Being the onset of the harvest celebration, they were already prepared to feast for the next three days. Now they walked slowly back toward the hall and Giric’s interest in the way these people lived was piqued.
“We are well protected here, and we are well stocked,” Gunnar said.
“You’re wondering how you may gain if you enter into an arrangement with me.”
“Ja, that has crossed my mind.”
“The other settlement here, are they friend or foe?”
“You already know the answer to that,” Gunnar said as they reached the entrance to the hall.
“And what will happen when they discover the lands on this side of the island are richer?”
“They already know that.”
“They’ve been here?” Giric asked.
“They have.”
Giric had only known this man for a few hours, but already sensed a common understanding with him. He was worried. For all his burly, invincible outward appearance, the man had insecurities—as any good leader would.
“Are you well defended?”
Gunnar’s eyes narrowed. “Do I trust you enough yet, Giric MacDomnail, to show you how well defended we are?”
Gunnar changed direction and walked ahead along a well beaten path to a round stone structure with a grass roof. It was similar to other structures he’d seen but the difference was this one had no windows. Smoke billowed from the top and a clanging sound welled up from within. The smell of burning peat met him as he entered the structure. From the dim light afforded by the wall torches, Giric could make out a thickly statured man hammering away at something on an anvil. A fire burned hot on the ground near him while a young man alternated pumping bellows in the corner of the room to keep the fire burning hot.
“This is Ragnar. He is the finest blacksmith in,” Gunnar turned to Giric with a smile, “well, anywhere.”
Ragnar ceased his hammering and mopped his brow with his sleeve leaving a black mark in its wake. He took a deep breath and placed both his fists on the anvil. The younger man in the corner ceased his efforts as well and sat back.
“The task is nearly complete,” he said to Gunnar.
“That is good news, Ragnar. This is Giric who is a Scot. He wishes to forge an alliance with us.”
Ragnar grinned, the play on words clearly not lost on him. “Does he now? And what does he offer for this alliance?”
“He offers peace,” Giric said. “It is clear to me you are self sufficient here. In truth I am quite in awe of your feats of structural design between your dwellings and your ships.” As he said this, he noticed the hole in the roof of the forge and a small window behind Ragnar. With the window slightly open, the smoke naturally drew up. Clever. “But there are others who want this land.”
Giric could not help but notice the irony in the fact that Gunnar’s clan was under potential threat from their own kind, not those whom they had presumed to conquer.
“Ragnar, show our guest what you have been working on,” Gunnar said.
Ragnar nodded and tended to his fire before leaving the forge. Giric and Gunnar followed him around the back to another stone dwelling with a grass roof, but this one was rectangular in shape and larger.
As they entered, Ragnar flicked something and lit a torch, then another, and another. The illumination revealed what Giric estimated to be several dozen broadswords, axes, crossbows, and hundreds of metal-tipped arrows. Round wooden shields of all colours with various spikes or rounded metal bosses at the centre were stacked in the far corner.
Gunnar crossed his arms over his chest and raised one eyebrow. “I will ask you again, Giric, with full respect. What do I gain from an alliance with you?”
At that moment, Osgar, who had been seeing to the men, entered the armoury. “You had better take some of those,” he said pointing to the swords. “We have company and your sisters do not look too happy about them.”
