Hakon seemed to turn inwards. For a moment, there was no sound but the crackling fire. Then he straightened, took a deep breath, and said, “From our pasts, let us hold onto their memories, for they make us who we are. Butourbeginning—you, and me—that happened yesterday. I don’t think we need to concernourselves about other men, other women. Now we have each other, and that’s what matters.”
Sif felt a kind of lightening of a load, as if something heavy had been lifted from her shoulders.
“It’s true,” she said. “Now, we have each other,” Sif repeated. “This is our beginning.”
They smiled at each other.
“So, when it comes to beginnings,” said Hakon, “was there anything you learned from the Ironwood?”
Sif shook her head. “I had more to tell them than they had to tell me.” She kept Baedi’s doubts about Sif’s relationship with Hakon to herself. She asked, “And what about you? Did you speak with Thorfin?”
Hakon sighed and fiddled with a branch on the fire. “No good news there at all. My father told me that crews like Thorfin’s sail for gold and glory but little else. He was right. Thorfin and his crew will not sail against an unknown threat with no prospect of fame or profit.”
“So we are alone,” said Sif.
“Gunnar is with us,” said Hakon. “That’s not nothing.”
“You’re right,” agreed Sif. “Two swords are better than one.”
“In some circumstances,” said Hakon, with a hint of mischief in his tone.
The two stared at one another for a moment, and then they both fell into laughter.
“I’m only going to say this once,” said Hakon, grinning. “You will only ever see one sword in the bedroom, and that is mine.”
“Yes, my Lord,” replied Sif, laughing.
Hakon’s expression grew somber. “We’re really doing this, Sif. Venturing off together to face an unknown enemy.”
Sif nodded.
Hakon got to his feet and stepped around the fire. Sif got up as well, moving into his arms.
“If this is my fate,” whispered Hakon into her ear, “I can think of no one else I would want to share it with.”
Shutting out the rest of the world, the pair fell into a deep and passionate kiss, letting their love serve as a shelter from the uncertainty of their future.
***
Hakon wrapped his cloak more tightly around himself and Sif, who was snuggled into his chest. Straywisps of golden hair escaped the little tent that Sif had made with Hakon’s body and his thick wool cloak.
The wind off the sea was brisk. The crew of the longship had wrapped themselves tightly against the unseasonable cold. The sky was grey, the sun hidden behind a screen of dark clouds. Hakon watched his brother walk back and forth before the ship’s mast, rubbing his hands and stamping his feet.
“Bit cold for this time of year, isn’t it?” said Gunnar to Egil, the ship’s captain.
“So it is, lad. Bit of a blow coming down from the North. Happens,” said Egil.
“Hmm,” replied Gunnar, neutrally.
“I don’t remember this voyage being so cold,” mumbled Sif into Hakon’s chest. “But I do like it right here.”
“So do I, my love,” said Hakon, snuggling Sif a little tighter and reflecting on the glow of happiness her closeness brought to him. Hakon was no stranger to sea travel—days had spanned to weeks on the Long Road to Miklagard and back—but he had never travelled while sheltering a beautiful woman in his arms.
There is much to recommend this as a way to travel.
That night, as he looked up into the sky, there were no stars to be seen. The clouds lay as thick as they had through the day.
“How will Egil steer our course, with nothing to guide him?” said Hakon.
