She doubted that. No question but Faðir merely wanted to harangue her. He himself—though once a fierce fighter and avaricious viking—had not sailed since before Jute’s death, preferring to remain at home and direct others.
“I will come in the morning,” she said carelessly, “if I have time.”
They meant to sail as soon as they could gather and load supplies.
The man looked pained, but he went away and bothered her no more. Not till the morning, when Hulda awoke in her despicable lodgings with a lamentably sore head, did she remember Faðir’s request.
Or had it been an order?
She lay and wondered whether to grace him with her presence. The fact that he was family might well make her owe him that. Besides, she would like to see Móðir before she sailed.
TheFreyamight be lost. Not every boat that went viking returned.
She contemplated wearing a dress for the visit, and decided to go as the woman she now was—the commander of her own boat. She carried some pride when she entered her faðir’s house to find him sitting at his breakfast, beside the hearth.
“So,” he grunted at her, “you come in your own time.”
“Ja. I am here. Where is Móðir?”
“Not yet risen. I do not think she slept all the night.” To be fair, he looked as if he had not, either, face drawn and eyes holding an expression Hulda could not quite define. “She fears losing another child.”
Hulda shrugged. “It is you who sent me to sea.”
“I did not send you, dottir. I gave you permission to go. From a little child you have wanted a sword in your hand. I thought to let you work that out of your spirit and settle.”
That made Hulda raise her eyebrows. Was it so? “You let me launch the last voyage—”
“Ja. I thought you needed that to stem your grief over Jute. I understand that grief. By Odin’s eye, I share it.” He fought down his emotions. “But you returned without the vengeance you sought. It is enough.”
“It is not enough for me.”
Anger joined the other emotions in his eyes. A reasonable man, usually, he hated to be crossed. “You have bought this boat of which I hear? Where did you get the means?”
“I have been viking from the age of sixteen. I put my wealth aside.”
That made him grunt. Approval? Derision? She no longer needed his approval.
“An investment in a boat and crew is not a bad thing. Do not sail with them, though. Stay here and direct the venture.”
“I sail.” Away to the south. Toward Murtray.
“I forbid this.”
“I am no longer a child. You cannot forbid me.”
He got to his feet suddenly, visibly trembling. “It will cause your móðir pain and worry. Care you naught for her?”
“I care. To be sure I do.”
“Then stay and glean riches off what your crew brings home. If they succeed. I hear they are very young.”
“Very eager.”
“And a hacked-together boat.”
“TheFreyais sound.”
“Why must you do this, dottir?” It came as a cry.
