7 Chapter 7

Freydis tugged on the hood of her cloak, so that her face was hidden. Her red hair was pulled into a tight knot today, unlike her custom, and likewise hidden beneath the hood. The cloak itself was good and warm, trimmed with fox fur, but made in dark, inconspicuous colors, and concealed the contours of her body. Thus Freydis hoped that, even if anyone should see her, she would be difficult to recognize.

She hurried through the narrow streets, lifting up her cloak and skirts so that they wouldn't get wet in the half-frozen slush, the result of the many cold autumn rains. Trondheim was a town founded not long ago, and most of it was a collection of cramped wooden houses that grew thick around the king's dwelling, and the better-looking houses of some of the earls. Though it was noon, the town was half-dark due to the heavy clouds that hid the sky. People passed by Freydis, hurrying upon their business. Once or twice, an earl rode by on his horse and the commoners were plastered against the walls, to free the way for him. No one paid any attention to the woman in the dark cloak, whose face was covered and whose steps were quick and cautious.

She hastened her steps and hurried over to a large wooden building, which had black smoke coming through its smoke-hall. The door was open, inviting the comers and goers to enter the inn, and Freydis crossed the threshold of the large, dark common room, dimly lit by the weak glow of oil lamps that spread a reek of fish.

The landlady, a tall, wide woman whose hair had already begun to turn grey, came over to have a look at her, and Freydis threw back the hood of her cloak so that her face could be seen, and the landlady nodded and led her down a stone staircase into the cellar.

The cellar was even darker than the upstairs room, and was lit, likewise, by lamps burning with fish oil, but its floor was made of neatly scrubbed wooden planks, and upon the table stood a clay jug of wine and two goblets. Freydis looked around her, her eyes still getting used to the shadows, and for a moment she anxiously thought she must be alone. But then the man who was waiting for her stepped forward from the shadows, and placed himself in the circle of the faint, flickering light cast by the lamps. Like her, he was dressed in a long, heavy cloak with a hood thrown over his face - which he now uncovered and gave her his mysterious smile that was supposed to express warmth. Freydis smiled back, but as she looked at the long, lean figure of the man, her heart beat with fear and excitement at once.

"Freydis Eriksdottir," said Ingvar Haraldson, "it is a great pleasure to see you. I am glad you could make it."

"Of course," said Freydis, looking about her at the damp-stained walls and the thick, dented wooden table, "though I must say I was surprised by the time and place you suggested."

"I didn't want us to meet anywhere at court, because every wall there has ears," explained Ingvar. "And as for the hour, it is much easier to get away during the day without raising suspicions, while nightly wanderings will undoubtedly look very strange if anyone should take notice. Come over to the table, Freydis, and allow me to pour you some of this wine. The inn is very humble, but that is precisely why I use it for meetings I don't wish to make public. The landlady is a loyal, discreet woman, and for a little extra pay she orders especially for me some tolerable wine, not the murky water she usually serves."

Freydis took a sip of the wine. It was sweet and strong and burned her throat. Ingvar sat by her side on a rough wooden stool and drank deeply from his goblet, emptied it, and poured himself some more.

"Honesty," said Ingvar, "is a necessary component of successful partnership. Tell me true, then, Freydis - have you mentioned our meeting of today to anyone?"

She shook her head, and her eyes narrowed derisively. "I am not that foolish," she said.

"Of course not," Ingvar replied mildly, "but I thought you might decide to tell your brother."

"Leif tends to be excessively cautious whenever people he doesn't know well are involved in the matter," said Freydis. "Not to mention that he - acting upon the best intentions, no doubt - is insufferably controlling of every step I make."

"That is how elder brothers are, for the most part," said Ingvar, "but I hope this will not bother you too much during your stay at Norway."

"I like it here," said Freydis, "and I like to compare what I see to what my parents had told us. I have got the impression many things changed here in the past decades. King Olaf rules undisputed, towns are built, commercial ties grow stronger - and the Christian priests appear at every turn and corner," she finished contemptuously.

Ingvar nodded understandingly. "The Christian rule of King Olaf is one of the reasons why life in Norway is going to become more and more suffocating. Mark my words, soon a free man will be unable to go about his business if he doesn't frequent the church pews."

"I understand you aren't Christian, then," said Freydis.

"I was baptized," Ingvar shrugged indifferently. "I do not mean to speak openly against what is now prevalent at court. But I must say I like the Old Way much more, at least because it isn't full of righteous sermons about sin, atonement, and punishing the flesh to elevate the soul."

"Yes," said Freydis, "this is one of the obvious advantages of our life in Greenland. It's cold and empty there, and sometimes very lonely, but a man may be free."

"Make no illusions," Ingvar warned her, "the arms of the Norwegian throne will reach you too, together with Christianity. Iceland, of course, will accept the New Faith before you. But I fear your father does not have much time left to continue enjoying the freedom that has been his due all these years. And if it comes to open conflict, he should be wise to submit and swear fealty to the king, for otherwise the consequences can be lethal."

His words hit the spot. He knew it when he looked at Freydis, who paled instantly, even though no muscle moved in her face. She really is a very handsome woman, he thought in a detached way, despite these odd eyes of hers.

"The king has nothing to seek in Greenland," said Freydis, and gained Ingvar's respect by how steady her voice was. "We are a distant, poor province - and to think that things might come to an open conflict between my father and the king's men, well, that is preposterous."

But before her eyes appeared once more that terrible vision she beheld in her youth, in the flames of a fire and the clouds of smoke that made her eyes burn and water. Ships, ships and more ships, arriving at Greenland's familiar shores, carrying people of fair skin and hair, people of the Norwegian king. Her father, Leif, Thorvald and Thorstein, and Thorbjorn and Thorvard and old Harald and the rest, gearing up for battle. The cries of the warriors are making the walls shake, and the women weep as they are being carried away as trophies underneath the dark grey sky. Flames lick the abandoned houses, and the settlement is burning like one enormous torch of fire and blood. And then the cries cease, and the silence takes over, and she alone, Freydis, walks between the soot-blackened, smoking ruins, and looks at the remnants of those dearest to her through a veil of blinding tears.

She shook her head, forcing herself to come back to the present. Sometimes fortune-telling is only a warning, she told herself. Strong people can take their destiny in their hands and change what is to come. And she, Freydis, the daughter of Erik the Red, will do all that depends on her to ensure that the terrible prophecy will remain but a warning, a horrendous supposition that will never come true.

"King Olaf is an ambitious man," said Ingvar, pretending not to notice that Freydis's hands were shaking while she poured herself more wine. "He dreams of expanding the influence of Norway, annexing more territories - up to uniting with the Swedes and Danes, and conquering the lands of the Finns to the east. With this purpose in mind, he even offered himself as a bridegroom to the queen of Sweden, and I must say such an act probably demanded the utmost determination of him, for the queen is ugly in a way impossible to describe, and her mustache is far thicker than mine. But she rejected him because she is a devout believer in the Old Way, and cannot abide Christians. I have no doubt the king is concocting a plan to annex Greenland, though it might very well be a plan for the more distant future. I think that at first he will try, probably, to bring about the change from inside, by influencing your brother Leif - but if this doesn't succeed, his resources are plentiful, and he will not shun the use of brutal power."

"You paint a rather dark picture," said Freydis nonchalantly, but her heart constricted within her.

"Not at all," replied Ingvar. "I am being realistic. If there is one thing kings find hard to tolerate, it is the independence of those who might have been, in some way, considered their vassals. Your father was exiled from Norway and from Iceland, and it was expected of him to spend his entire life as a miserable outcast. Instead, he made great success by settling a new land, in which he is the only authority and dictates the rules, and where people are loyal to him. For this, he deserves respect. But the settlements of Greenland are small and sparse. If things come to an armed encounter with Norwegian forces... I am sorry to tell you this, Freydis, but your chances to win will be very slim indeed."

"Should I understand we are doomed, then?" asked Freydis sarcastically. "Should we wait helplessly for the moment when we are made to swear fealty to the king and accept his direct interference in all our affairs - or to confront him and see our home burn?"

"If that has been the case," said Ingvar, "I wouldn't waste my time on this conversation. But you are a clever, strong and brave woman, Freydis - and will, of course, be able to recognize a solution that is right before your eyes."

Freydis said nothing, and only signaled for him to go on. To herself she thought, if I had known how to make sure the greedy arms of the throne do not reach us, I would have no need of you.

"Your father, Red Erik Thorvaldson," said Ingvar, "must crown himself. He must be king."

The notion was so ridiculous Freydis laughed openly. "Is that your brilliant idea?" she asked derisively. "The king of what? Of a few scattered settlements along the coast of a frozen land?"

Ingvar sat thoughtfully for a moment or two before going on. He poured what remained in the jug into their goblets and took a sip out of his. Freydis followed his example.

"I know many people," he said eventually, "some of them quite important, so I will refrain from mentioning their names for now - people who are tired of King Olaf's rule and would sail west with all their households, if only they knew they can expect freedom of faith and uncontrolled running of their own matters, and good, spacious territories to settle."

"The areas of Greenland which can be settled are very limited," said Freydis, "and most of them are already taken - as you probably know."

"Of course," he gave her a piercing look, "but I have heard rumours that to the west and south from Greenland, not too far, there are good, empty lands, which are only waiting for people to come and take over them. Of course, this is only a tale. I have no idea if it is true, and where exactly those lands are, if they even exist."

He fell silent, looked at her, and waited.

This was the moment of truth, Freydis knew. Can she trust this man? Leif would probably say that she can't, but on the other hand, she cannot act alone either, she thought bitterly. She does not have the means or the influence, and she needs a partner like this Ingvar Haraldson, a glib, well-connected type, one who knows just what to say to the right people at the right moment. And she decided to make her bet.

"What you heard is true," she said. "My brother Leif sailed to this land, along with me and some others. It is a good, fertile land, with fields full of wild wheat and vines of wild grapes, a green land crossed by rivers in which many fat salmon can be found in season. The climate there is far milder than in Greenland, and even than in most of Norway. It is a fine place for a settlement, but," Freydis's eyes suddenly acquired a harsh, metallic shine, "the land isn't empty. It is populated by bloodthirsty natives, Skraelings who murdered in cold blood some of the people who came with us. During that journey we were too few to confront them, but we left knowing that if we wish to return, the natives will need to be destroyed."

She decided to omit Leif's words, which were too soft in her opinion, about a possible agreement that could be reached with the local people.

"It need not bother you," Ingvar promised her, waving his hand generously. "What are Skraelings compared to Viking warriors? We will get rid of them so that nothing is left to remind us they once existed."

A strong flush of desire for revenge effused Freydis's face. These were the words she wanted to hear, but she attempted to keep her voice mild when she made her reply to Ingvar:

"Do not make light of them. They are cruel, fearless people, and they elders know a lot of some branches of magic."

"Sorcerers and sorceresses do not frighten me," said Ingvar with a slight smile. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be sitting here with you. For, unless I am very much mistaken, you too, lovely Freydis, know quite a bit of magic."

"I have learned a thing or two," confirmed Freydis, and a dangerous smile curved the corners of her mouth.

"So I thought. Well, listen what we must do. We have to collect the group of people I mentioned, rich and influential people who are sick of the king and of Christianity, and will be very glad to hear they will have a possibility to live as they see fit, in a new and promising place, under the official but not intrusive rule of your father, who will be called king, and your brother Leif. We shall take care of the natives, and soon a new kingdom will rise. The news will find their own wings, and people will flock west."

The blush in Freydis's face grew deeper. Her father, a true king! They will not depend upon the mercy of Norway, the prophecy will not come true, and she will avenge Helgi, Tur and Gudrid. Still, her next words were cautious.

"King Olaf will go mad with fury when he hears of this."

"He will not hear of this," said Ingvar. "At least not until there is nothing he can do to stop it. The western lands across the sea will slip from his hands. Of course, I assume he will try to do something to prevent our success, perhaps even a military move. But you must remember one more thing, my dear Freydis: the king will not live forever, and Prince Sigurd does not have even a fraction of his father's boldness. Therefore, all we must do is gain time. Trust me, what I offer is a very good, sensible plan, in the course of which we will all gain. We need each other. We shall need guidance to reach the new land and begin settling it, and help from the Greenland settlements during the initial period. Your father, at the same time, needs many brave people close enough to him so that he need no fear an invasion from Norway. He is a brave, ambitious man, according to what I know, and doubtless will agree that such a move will serve to the advancement of him and his family. Leif, too, will understand, of course, how important it is to have a well-based settlement in the new regions as well as in Greenland."

"I cannot promise my brother will take a liking to this plan," said Freydis.

"There is no need to mention it to him just now," Ingvar said placidly. "First we shall need to collect the people who will be ready to send all their possessions and households across the sea, and when your brother will see that their number is impressive and their intentions serious, he will be convinced."

Ingvar got up from the table, and so Freydis understood their meeting is at an end.

"I will leave Trondheim for a while," said Ingvar. "The king will not be happy, but I will come up with some excuse or other to give a satisfactory explanation of my absence. When we will all be ready to meet, I will send you a message so that you might come as well. Prepare yourself."

"Do not take unnecessary risks by sending messages," said Freydis. "I shall know where and when to meet you."

Out of the folds of her clothes, she pulled a ring and put it on her finger, to the astonished eyes of Ingvar. It was a ring made of white gold, studded with an enormous black amethysts, expertly worked, and in its deep darkness a blood-red sparkle seemed to appear for a moment.

"Queen Geyra's ring!" Ingvar nearly choked in his astonishment, and Freydis didn't fail to notice the greedy shine of his eyes. "How did it fall into your hands?"

"It is a long and tedious story," said Freydis with affected boredom. "I searched for it for years."

"If I were you, I wouldn't wear it in public," Ingvar advised her.

"Naturally," she replied, and hid the ring in her clothes again.

On her way back to the castle, nagging doubts began to haunt her again. She felt she was far too exposed before a man she did not really know and could not really trust. But what else could she do? In order to succeed, one must sometimes take risks, she told herself. On the other hand, she was filled with a delightful vision - how wonderful it will be if the plan works! A true kingdom in Vinland and Greenland, not just a few settlements - and her father will be king, and Leif after him... and she, Freydis, will also gain the position and influence she deserves to have. And the accursed Skraelings will lose their land forever, and will flee or die. She need not fear for the future of her home anymore.

Still, her heart was heavy. She never told anybody of the prophecy she saw as a girl. She knew no one would believe her, that she would be laughed at, or warned once more not to contact the Skraelings. I was there, I and no one else, Freydis thought savagely. No one but me saw the terrible prophecy inside the fire lit by the old witch.

Now she pinned her hopes upon Ingvar Haraldson, a man she met but recently, and who - she had to admit to herself - was not the most trustworthy type. She had no love for him, no more than he for her, but they might be useful to one another.

In one thing she knew she had an advantage over him. The secret knowledge she had gained throughout the years was not in vain. It gave her something - sometimes, the hidden became open and clear for her. All she had to do was hope that this would be one of those times.

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