I am afraid, may not be as fatherly as he once was. He might not actually be my father, come to think of it. And my fortune is all on the side we sailed from.” The merchant’s face turned scarlet and he sputtered, struggling to choose the right curse-words. “The horse I left with the fisherman should be payment enough.”
“Th-that old nag is not worth even a day’s rations!”
“That’s no way to speak of your wife, brother Hedin,” Ulfar admonished as he leapt over the side of the boat and set down on the beach. The fat merchant appeared to consider going after him, but Ulfar put his hand on the hilt of his sword and shook his head just a fraction.
Hedin deflated. “You’re a shit,” he spat.
Ulfar just shrugged, turned his back on the merchant, and walked inland, followed by fading curses.
The sun set and somewhere up above, the stars told him where to go.
Soon Hedin’s angry face was nothing but a memory. He found what could charitably be called a road or track of some sort that appeared to go in the right direction, so he followed it. His stomach rumbled, but he paid it no heed; when it started cramping, he chewed on leaves. A brook on the way provided fresh water. Ulfar let his feet lead him and tried not to think about anything.
Some time later, when he saw the lights on the road ahead, he thought long and hard about whether he should avoid people altogether, considering how it had gone so far. Eventually, however, his rumbling stomach settled the matter. He drew a deep breath and walked toward the settlement.
EKARSTAD, WEST SWEDEN
LATE OCTOBER, AD 996
Make them like you. The thought echoed in Ulfar’s head along with the coarse laughter, bad singing, and assorted other noises of the hall. Make the bastards like you. Lead the lamb to the slaughter. Something lurched inside, but he pushed it down, held it together, and didn’t let it out. Instead he focused his efforts on looking like his opponent had stunned him with his last move.
It worked, too. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the trader’s friends winking at him. One went so far as to pat the stocky man on the back. Playing along, Ulfar tutted, frowned, and shook his head. “Serves me right,” he mumbled. “I should never have offered you double or nothing. I knew I was lucky in the first game.”
The man, a root-faced Swede from the north, nodded and grinned, revealing rotting teeth. “Maybe you did get lucky,” he said. “Or maybe I was just stringing you along.”
It was all Ulfar could do to keep the smirk off his face. If that’s the truth, you’re twice as smart as you’re ugly, he thought. Discarding the easy win, he picked the second-best move. Root-face was still on his way to a slow and painful death on the board, but it would not be as obvious. Ulfar sighed as he pushed his piece away from the other man’s king. “I guess this is the best I can do,” he added.
With barely a moment’s thought, his opponent walked into the trap, smiling while he did so. “That should teach you soft southerners never to play a Northland man in games of smarts,” he crowed.
Ulfar nodded apologetically. The next couple of moves were obvious, but they needed to be played right. He’d purposefully taken small sips of his mead to keep a clear head.
“I know, I know,” he said. “The men of Uppsala always brag about how they’re smarter than the thick moose-fuckers from up north, but we all know that’s just bluster.”
Root-face hawked and spat on the floor. “Only too right, whelp,” he snarled as he pushed his king exactly where Ulfar wanted it. “We see you when we come south with furs, smirking at us when you think we’re not looking.”
“Oh, but I never did,” Ulfar protested meekly as he made his move. “I was always afraid of Northlanders, to be honest. They all looked like they could wrestle a bear.”
“You mean Northlander women,” an onlooker quipped to roars of laughter. Even Root-face seemed happy about this and moved quickly. Mugs of mead clinked around him. “Now come on, boy. Give up and hand over the silver.”
Careful, Ulfar thought. Scratch the animal behind the ears before the knife comes out. “Is it okay if we play a couple more moves . . . ?” he ventured cautiously. “I want to learn as