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“Always,” I vowed, turning my attention their way as they said their final farewells to loved ones. Even though tears were shed, there was also great hope for a bright new future in their rightful homeland. A sense of returning to their roots that I intended to nurture in the coming years.
Fortunately, the skies were fair and the cold wind less gusty when we set out shortly thereafter and made our way down the mountain. Given how well they transgressed the paths no matter their age, I suspected my new people would have done just as well had it been stormy.
As we did with our people back in Norway, Tove and I fell into the role of shared leadership with ease, spending the day with our newest tribe members, getting to know them. Yet all the while, I longed for my new wife to be in my arms again and knew she felt the same during our occasional glances at one another. In how our gazes caught before we returned to our individual conversations.
Despite my new tribe members being mountain dwellers, many also had experience on the water, so I felt confident they would do well on the journey home. And those who had little time on the seas seemed eager to learn.
“’Tis quite the blade,” King Magnus praised at one point when we walked together. He eyed the Norse dagger sheathed at my waist. “I cannot say I have ever seen the likes of it.”
“’Tis very old and of my tribe.” Sensing it best for now and not entirely untrue, I remained vague. I had found it, so some might say, that made it mine, even if I knew better. “Given to me by my grandmother for safekeeping.”
“Might I look more closely at it?” he wondered, seeming taken by the hilt, in particular.
“Of course,” I said. What else could I say? No, I refuse to part with it now, and I cannot entirely say why, given that’s how I felt, and strongly at that.
Even so, I handed it over.
“’Tis as I thought,” the king remarked, his eyebrows perking the closer he looked at the symbols. “These are an ancient form of runic symbols.” The corner of his mouth shot up, and he handed it back to me. “And I happen to be in possession of something that might very well help us decipher them if you wish?”
While the symbols could very well be a message meant for me and me alone, when Tove’s talisman warmed, I knew I should accept his offer, and so I did.
Little did I imagine what it would say when he deciphered it that very evening.
Chapter Seventeen
Tove
Nothing surprised me more than discovering the gray wolf that had delivered mine, and my sisters’ talismans had delivered one to Knud meant for his grandmother, along with the dagger itself. We’d long been under the impression that the dagger had transformed into our talismans, but evidently not.
Rather, the dagger had been meant for Knud.
I could admit that it suited him well, even if it might not remain at his side permanently. Either way, there could be no doubt it was meant to be there now, given what we learned from King Magnus that evening at his castle when he translated the dagger’s symbols.
Having seen our new people fed and settled in for the night, Freya, Knud, and I joined the king in his study to share a nightcap and see if we could figure out the writing on the blade. He’d just brought out an ancient-looking scroll, and, fortunately, it had what we needed to decipher it.
“This has been in our dynasty for centuries.” He gingerly turned the aged parchment pages while seeking the correct symbols. “Brought from the mainland by our ancestors.”
“So, what does the blade say?” Freya wondered, as curious as Knud and I after Magnus finished.
“If I’m understanding it correctly, it says death will precede three kings coming face to face.” His gaze rose to Knud. “Kings born of Scots and Vikings alike.” He clenched his jaw, as if in defiance, before going on. “It claims a great ending will come, and the beginning of a new era. Two kings will fall, and one will rise.”
A chill rippled through me at that and once again a great gust of wind sounded outside, holding the roar of the polar bear. Knud would never rise, nor would he want to under the King of Norway’s rule, as he considered him the sole and rightful monarch of our homeland, so that could only mean he would fall.
“Could there be room for misinterpretation in your translation?” I wondered, struggling to ignore my racing heart and consider everything logically. Think like the earl that I was, guided by reason rather than emotion.
“There is always room for error with something like this, I would assume,” King Magnus said, however unconvinced he sounded before swigging his ale as if needing it.
“I agree.” Freya looked at me with reassurance, knowing I worried despite trying to appear strong. She also subtly reminded me that these words were of the gods, so our mere mortal interpretation could be faulty. “It could just as easily be some sort of riddle we’ve yet to understand, however much it might seem to coincide with our circumstances.”
“Given death did just happen on the mountain yesterday, I think ’tis more than coincidental,” Magnus reminded, frowning. “And now. three kings could soon come face to face.”
“Then might it be you who rises up,” Knud said dutifully if not selflessly. King Magnus’s fall would mean the end of a dynasty, considering he had no sons.
“Might it be,” Magnus echoed softly, no fool. “However unlikely, with the Norse’s diminishing stronghold in the isles and the mainland already lost to us despite having held a good portion of it for centuries.”
Even though Knud and I offered no response to that, choosing to speak of less dire things while finishing our drinks, we revisited the conversation later while front of our own fire. It was the first time we were resuming our routine of nightly ale and discussion, not only as earl and second-in-command but as two people bonded in love and by the gods, and nothing had ever felt so right. We’d chosen to stay in my lodge and give his to members of our new tribe.
I might be desperate to have my arms around him again, but this was our timeless tradition, and the first whilst married, so it held great meaning for us.
