said. “Hakon Jarl has always been a hard master. I don’t think he would like to be ruled by anyone else.” After a brief pause, he added, “It is a shame that he doesn’t understand what is best for him and his people. We’ll show him who rules next summer. Or next spring, even. Before he expects it.”
“I’ll make him understand,” King Olav snarled. “I can’t run the country while I wait for him to assemble an army.”
Valgard’s face felt hot, and his heart hammered in his chest. The chance was here, right now. He cleared his throat. “Then why wait for spring?”
He barely managed to stand his ground when King Olav turned toward him. “What do you mean?” Fury was burning in the king’s eyes.
“Hakon is a savage. We all know it. He has been ruling the north for longer than I can remember, and he is by all accounts a strong chieftain.”
Jorn frowned. “Why are you telling us this? We know—”
“But where do you fit into Hakon’s world, your Majesty? What are you to him?” Valgard continued, addressing the king and ignoring the dirty look from Jorn. “An upstart? One of many challengers? Someone to be squashed? Or someone to be feared?”
“More than five thousand men follow me. And the word of Christ,” King Olav said.
“And why do you think he had your messenger killed?” Valgard said. The longhouse was suddenly very silent. “You knew he wouldn’t step aside. He certainly knows it. He also knows that autumn is here and winter is on its way. So he gambles. He decides to send a statement of his strength, to taunt you and eliminate the one man who could have told you what his forces are really like. While you stew down here, he gathers strength. Word will get around that he defied you; when winter clears, his stinking herd of miserable sheep may have grown significantly.”
King Olav watched Valgard intently. “So—?”
“Take it. Take his challenge—but take it now.”
Jorn nearly jumped out of his seat. “That’s foolish! You could never—”
“Stop.” King Olav’s calm voice cut Jorn off. “Listen. You should listen more.” The Prince of the Dales slumped back in his seat, and the king sat in silence for a little while. When he spoke again, he sounded almost curious. “Go north in autumn, you say.” His words were directed to Valgard, but he looked to the sky. “I will . . . think about this. Leave us.”
Valgard followed Finn toward the door. The look on Jorn’s face as they left was not lost on him.
“A-a-and then what?” Runar said.
“He just sat there. Didn’t say a word. Then he got up and went over to his little prayer table with the Bible, knelt down, and started mumbling. He kept looking up at the roof. After a while I just left. I don’t think he noticed,” Jorn snapped, whittling at a stick.
“Th-this does not sound good,” Runar said. He paced in the hut they’d been forced to share. Five thousand men were squeezed together in and around Stenvik, growing more hungry and restless by the day. “But we n-need to th-think about this. There may be opportunities.” Outside, someone saluted as they passed by but got no reply.
“But when? When do we do something? Anything?” The knife bit into the stick and sent wood chips flying into a growing pile at Jorn’s feet. “I’m sick and tired of playing nice. Poisoning the food didn’t work, and—”
“W-w-wrong,” Runar stammered. “Poisoning the food worked just f-f-f-fine. Little f-food for them-m, n-n-n—” Runar took several deep breaths to get the words out. “No b-blame for us,” he added, smiling. “A-and we m-move when the moment comes. You’ll know,” he added. “Y-you’ll know.”
“This doesn’t feel very heroic,” Jorn grumbled. “I’m not doing anything. The men will not think I’m doing—”
“Th-th-that’s good, th-th-though. Because right now, K-King Olav is making a m-mistake. Or at least he’s thinking about it.”
Jorn sighed and rose. The house they’d been given was wooden, well made but simple, with only a few trophies mounted on the walls. They’d cleared out the dresses and a strange collection of leather bottles and had found a chest under the bed containing an impressive assortment of blades, axes, and mean-looking spearheads—killing tools. They had kept these for themselves.
“You forgot that there’s also less food for us,” he grumbled.
Runar shrugged. “That’s no problem. You were s-s-starting to get fat anyway.” He grinned. “Now all w-we need to do is w-wait until he decides how to