Islands in the Fog Read Online Free Page B

nectar again." Hermind slapped the table and chortled, spit flinging from his mouth. Others laughed again, only Hardar refrained, barely fitting a trite smile on his swollen face. Ulfrik realized the assumption of his holding the festival again rankled Hardar. He pressed Hardar's sore spot.
    "Indeed we should. But if you wait until next year, we will have perfected the brewing of it. Next year when you return it will be even better."
    "Truly a fine feast. I am humbled by the skill of your people." Hardar spoke overloud. "Let me toast your wife's skill at the hearth once more."
    Everyone raised a mug or horn to Runa, who smiled demurely. Ulfrik put his arm about her waist as he raised his own. "To the best cook I've ever known!"
    Hardar and Ulfrik watched each other over the rims of their mugs. Hardar's wife and daughter sat beside him, shrinking into his shadow. They had not spoken the entire night, unlike the wives of other jarls. Hardar's wife Ingrid, her skin still clear and tight for her age, had seemed outgoing when they first arrived. But now she fluttered like a ghost vanishing from sight. Hardar's daughter behaved the same.
    "You have made yourself rich in a land where sheep outnumber men. It's no small feat." Jarl Ragnvald now turned the conversation down a new track. He sat opposite Ulfrik. Both he and his wife were soft and gentle folk from the northern islands. Ulfrik had liked him the moment they met. "Your name as a hero of Hafrsfjord has brought you many followers, even to these distant rocks."
    "Men follow success, don't they?" Ulfrik sent his words straight at Hardar, glanced at him, then laughed. Runa elbowed him gently for his immodesty, which drew polite laughter. Hardar wore a smile like a day old corpse.
    "As I know it, King Harald destroyed all his foes at Hafrsfjord. Odd to call utter defeat a success." The quip came not from Hardar, but from the morose and unfriendly Jarl Vermund sitting at his side. It was the first Ulfrik had heard from this man since his arrival.
    Faces of those who could hear above the celebration glanced at each other, then expectantly turned to Ulfrik. He held his smile as he chose his words. "I escaped with my life and the lives of my sworn men. I made no claim for glory on that bloody day. The success I referred to, if Jarl Vermund had been listening, was the rebuilding of Nye Grenner on this island."
    Ulfrik held Vermund's gaze, but knew Hardar was studying him closely. Vermund, for his part, gave the faintest smirk. "I apologize, Jarl Ulfrik. I must have misunderstood."
    Ulfrik nodded, still holding Vermund's gaze until he finally turned away. It seemed a signal for Hardar to interject his thoughts. "This is an interesting point, though, Jarl Ulfrik. You arrived here with a ship full of men and their families. The freemen of this place got you started on the path to your current happiness."
    "I owe the free families who dwelt here everything I am. I feel my work here has bettered their lives. Wouldn't you agree?"
    "Certainly," Hardar picked a bone from his plate and turned it over in his hands. He swept his gaze over the other jarls. "But I wonder if they feel that way?"
    Small conversations halted, and smiling faces froze. Ulfrik straightened himself, peering at Hardar with slit eyes. "And why would you wonder such things? Do you not see the prosperity here?"
    "When you arrived, you were but a few boatloads of people. Now this island is filled with fighting men. Warriors who make claims on the land, desire their own fame and wealth. We people who have lived in the Faereyjar all our lives value the peace of our island homes. It is why we stay here."
    "And peace has remained. I still don't understand your question, Lord Hardar."
    "Perhaps Lord Hardar has drank too much tonight and is tired," Ragnvald interjected. "Surely the question was just ill-framed."
    "What Lord Hardar means," said Vermund, as his smile spread on his gaunt face, "is that Lord Ulfrik has built an army of