“Ja. Ja!”
“Can you sail? Are you too ill?”
“I can sail. But even if Helje agrees to come with us, what good are three swords against Ivor and all his men?”
“I do not know.” The words came heavy with regret. “I have wrestled with it in my mind. It comes to me that I need to try. For if Ivor does come home bragging about having sacked the settlement, if I think of that young woman perhaps attacked or killed by Ivor’s wolves, and I have done nothing to prevent it—”
“Ja,” Hulda said again, softly. “The heart wants what it wants.” She studied her friend. “Will your brother agree to go?”
“He is eager to do so. He does not like Ivor Larsson.”
“If we buy this wreck of a boat, it will use up most of what we earned.”
Garik shrugged. “What are riches for, if not spending?”
They put the matter to Frode soon after, who looked dubious.
“Freyais nearly finished,” he told them. “If the three of you help us with her, we can have her back in the water in no time.”
“We cannot sailFreyawithout a crew,” Hulda protested.
“You have a crew, foolish girl.”
“Not one willing to return south now.”
“You help me, and we shall see.”
Frode put them to work, Hulda laboring hard despite her condition. As the day progressed, two miraculous things happened—gifts from Freya herself, they might have been. She began to feel hopeful, the occupation of her hands perhaps lifting the uncertainty from her mind. And slowly, slowly, the members of their crew drifted into the bay. They came one by one, or two together, bored young men with one season’s sail behind them. At first Hulda thought they came out of curiosity or just to visit. But Frode assigned them all jobs and they fell to working.
Garik, looking as surprised as Hulda felt, went about speaking to them. He soon gestured to Hulda.
“The crew,” he told her, not wasting words, “is reporting to sail.”
“What?”
Hulda looked around at the men. They gathered in a ring around her and Garik, looking at her seriously.
“You are all willing to sail—now?”
“Well,” Varg quipped, “just as soon asFreyais back in the water.”
“We figure if we put all hands to it,” Brynjar added, “we can get her out on tomorrow’s tide.”
“Staying in port is boring,” Helje added, making an exaggerated face.
“But—” Hulda struggled with her emotions. “We do not go to raid or to gain wealth. This is something far different.”
“My sword,” said Helje shortly, “thirsts for Ivor’s blood.”
“You gave us a chance,” said Brynjar, “when no one else would. If you need us now, well—then we are here.”
“I need you now. And I am grateful.”
“By Odin’s eye,” one of them teased, “do not start weeping. Or how can we follow you?”
“Get to work,” Frode ordered them brusquely. And they did.
Chapter Fifty-Four
