Chapter 6: King Harkon (1)

Einar listened intently. Afterward, he stared into the flames. A silence stretched while he considered what Yngvar told him. Finally, he looked up and met Yngvar's eyes.

"What troubles me most is the loss of your sword arm. That cannot be easily repaired."

Yngvar shrugged. "My life depends on my strength in combat. I could never wield a shield properly without two arms. But I have learned to fight with only one."

"Yet you seem quite skilled with a blade despite that handicap. Perhaps there is more to you than meets the eye."

Alasdair raised his hand. "Lord, you are too kind."

"Not so," Einar said. "As a leader of men myself, I appreciate both skill and courage. Your bravery is obvious. Now tell me why you came here."

"We seek passage across this great river," Yngvar said. "But we need supplies. Food and weapons especially."

Einar scratched behind his ear. "Well, you certainly picked a poor place to ask. This area belongs to another king. Are you aware of any local lords? Maybe I know one."

"King Harald Bluetooth rules here now," Yngvar said, suddenly realizing his mistake. "I mean no disrespect."

"None taken," Einar said. "Harald is indeed a powerful man. He is also known as Bluetooth, which means 'the loud voice.' There used to be many kings who ruled all of Scandinavia. They fought amongst themselves for supremacy. Today, however, those kingdoms are either under Harald or allied with him. I imagine if you asked anyone, they'd say he is the greatest warrior alive."

"If he can defeat Erik Bloodaxe, then yes," Yngvar said. "That would make him a worthy ally to our cause."

"I see," Einar said. "Then let me show you the way out of town. You may leave through the gate just ahead. Be careful when crossing the bridge. If you're caught alone, you'll be killed. King Harald does not tolerate traitors to his rule."

They left Einar's house and passed between rows of low buildings built along wooden frames. The streets were narrow and crowded. Most people wore plain woolen cloaks that hung past their knees but did nothing to hide their bodies from view. Many carried spears, axes, swords, and shields hanging from leather straps slung over their shoulders. Those few women among them wore modest dresses made of coarse cloth dyed red and blue. All the children played together, running about naked.

The main road led straight toward the center of the city where the tall stone walls enclosed the grounds of King Harald's palace. Beyond the wall, Yngvar saw a massive fortification dominating the landscape. It rose above the other structures around it, making it appear larger than anything else in sight. Its towers were blackened with smoke, suggesting recent fires within.

At the gates, guards stopped them. These men wore chainmail shirts and bore round metal helmets with horns pointing upward. Each held an iron-tipped spear. Behind them stood several mounted crossbowmen holding longbows.

"State your business," said the guard nearest Einar. He spoke in Frankish, which surprised Yngvar.

"Are you blind?" Einar shouted back. "These fine fellows stand before us!"

The guards turned to each side, looking at the faces of their companions. One stepped forward. His face was dark beneath his helmet and beard. His hair fell down onto his shoulder, tied by a strip of white linen. He studied Einar and Alasdair with narrowed eyes.

"You speak Norse?"

"Yes, lord," Einar answered. "And these fine young warriors do as well."

"Very well," he said. "Follow me inside."

The guard opened the heavy oak door and ushered them into a large courtyard paved with smooth stones. At its far end loomed the palace itself. Guards lined the walls atop high platforms. Their faces were hidden behind iron masks that resembled devils' heads with gaping mouths full of sharp teeth. Spears pointed outward like pikes. Crossbows rested against the parapets.

Crossing the open space felt like being swallowed by some giant beast. The closer they drew to the palace, the wider the spaces became. The sun had fallen below the horizon, casting everything in shadow and deep purple light. Yet the heat remained oppressive. Sweat trickled down Yngvar's brow despite the cold air.

Finally, they reached the doors of the fortress. Here, the guards allowed them entry while closing off the path leading away. Inside, the interior hallways seemed even darker than outside. A single torch burned on every third post supporting the arched ceiling. Every second archway was decorated with gold leaf, though none matched the gilded splendor of the central doorway. That entrance sat wide enough to drive two wagons abreast. Two huge statues flanked it, their expressions grim and fierce.

A servant met them there. Like everyone else, she wore simple clothes of gray homespun and her head was covered with a scarf wrapped tightly around her forehead. She bowed deeply to Einar and gestured them to follow.

Yngvar followed closely behind Einar and Alasdair. Both looked nervous to enter such a grand building. Yet the halls were empty except for servants moving quickly about their tasks. None paid attention to them until they arrived at a set of stairs that went up three stories. This time they ascended without meeting any others. Once again, Yngvar marveled how small Norway could seem compared to the rest of the world. How big must this kingdom be to have so much room?

At last, they came to another ornate door. Again, the servant knocked twice. When no answer came, the woman pushed the door inward.

She gasped in surprise. Her hand flew to cover her mouth, revealing a gap where one tooth should be. Everyone stared at her, including Yngvar. His heart beat harder at seeing something familiar yet unexpected.

"What is wrong?" Einar asked.

Her smile faded and she lowered her hands. "King Hakon has ordered all foreigners banned from entering his presence. I am sorry if we frightened you."

Einar nodded then smiled. "We understand. We are not here seeking trouble."

He waved Alasdair ahead and entered the throne room. The servant closed the door behind him.

Once more, Yngvar found himself awestruck by the size of the place. Though he knew it would only take half an hour to walk across the length of Jelling, he spent ten minutes just staring at the walls. They stretched out overhead, disappearing into shadows beyond the reach of the torches. Tapestries hung between columns carved from blocks of stone. The colors were muted but still richly colored. Gold thread gleamed among blue and green.

Yet nothing prepared him for the sight when he finally made it to the dais where King Hakon sat upon his raised chair.

This was no man sitting on a wooden stool. He reclined in his seat, legs crossed over his chest. His arms lay along the armrests and he stared straight ahead with bright golden irises visible through thick black lashes. Black hair flowed down his shoulders and draped his lap. It reminded Yngvar of raven feathers. He imagined a crown resting above those locks.

Behind him stood a row of men dressed similarly to the king. All were older and most showed signs of battle scars or other wounds. These were men who'd seen hard years in life. But the king alone radiated power. Even seated, his aura emanated strength.

The silence grew long after Yngvar and his companions walked toward the dais. Only the creak of leather armor broke the quiet. Finally, the old warrior beside the king cleared his throat.

"Hail, King Hakon!" he called.

His voice echoed throughout the spacious chamber. Yngvar stepped forward eagerly, eager to hear what news they carried. As he did, the king turned his piercing gaze onto him.

For the first time, Yngvar saw fear on Hakon's face.

***

Yngvar blinked. For a moment he wondered whether he dreamed. Then he realized King Hakon had spoken directly to him.

"Who speaks?" The words snapped back like ice breaking underfoot.

All eyes fell on him as soon as he spoke. His stomach flipped. Fear shot up his spine. Why was he speaking? Wasn't he meant to kneel before the great ruler of Denmark? Shouldn't he bow low to show respect?

But the questions fled his mind as King Hakon continued to stare at him. What was happening? Had he misunderstood? Were these people enemies of King Erik Blood-Axe? Could they be allies? Did he really want to know?

Then the king smiled. Not a warm smile, but a thin line of teeth bared against cold air. He seemed amused rather than pleased.

"You speak Danish," said the king. "And Norse too. You are well traveled and brave enough to risk your lives in strange lands."

Despite being addressed by the powerful man seated on the high throne, Yngvar felt naked standing there. A chill ran through him. Where was Bjorn? Would Thorfast stand beside him now? With every step closer he took to the platform, his body became heavier. He wanted to run away and never return.