The Blood-Tainted Winter Read Online Free Page A

were two Raef knew personally, Brandulf Hammerling of Finngale, Vannheim’s neighbor to the north, and Hauk of Ruderk, whose lands lay far from the western sea. But more were strangers to him.
    One by one, each candidate consented or refused to stand. The ale and spirits were flowing freely by this point and cheers and shouting followed each acceptance. Only three men refused and these three were mocked and insulted, two more good-naturedly than the last, as their banners were lowered, leaving twelve in the rafters.
    The Great-Belly’s bludgeoner started up with his staff again, and a measure of silence was regained. “The first selections,” the Great-Belly said, gesturing to the men behind him. “We will resume tomorrow. Tonight we feast!” This was met with a roar of approval much louder than any lord had received. Platters of food emerged and the eager warriors set to work demolishing venison, suckling pig, and quail. Those who could not reach the long tables pushed their way forward to claim their portion and a careless man stood to be trampled if he delayed over a joint of venison for too long. Raef was content to move away from the table, letting the Vannheim warriors enter the feeding frenzy.
    A pair of warriors, tall, black-haired brothers, joined him at the rear of the hall. One, Asbjork, was licking grease from his fingers while ale sloshed over the rim of his cup. The other, Rufnir, was juggling a piece of flatbread, a leg of pheasant, and his own ale.
    “Let me be of assistance, Ruf,” Raef said, plucking the crispy-skinned pheasant from him and ripping into it with his own teeth.
    Rufnir scowled but did not protest. His brother grinned, his cheeks pink with the flush of ale and the heat of the hall.
    “Did you hear?” Rufnir asked Raef. “That son of a maggot-infested cow, Urhild Makkersson, means to take a ship west. You would think the ship was his wife, the way he speaks.” The scowl again. “He vows to conquer the sea road, says he will return with his sea chests brimming with riches and wonders we have never seen, and those who sail with him will be beloved of the gods.” Rufnir spit, narrowly missing Raef’s boot. “The whoreson thinks to beat us.”
    “When do we sail, Raef?” Asbjork asked.
    Raef was quiet for a moment. The brothers were strong and eager, his friends since childhood, and had tread the deck of a ship since they learned to walk. Long had they dreamed of the sea road and the renown they would win. They had been the first Raef had approached when he, two years ago, began to plan his journey, and they had helped build the swift, sleek ship that would carry them over the waves. They burned for it as much as he did, and now he must disappoint them.
    “The sea road will wait,” Raef said. “The gathering has tied us here.”
    Asbjork frowned. “But the gathering will only last a week at most. There is still time to sail.”
    “My father will have need of me in the days to follow,” Raef said, though he did not know if this was true. “We will sail in the spring.” The looks of dismay bore down on him. “Let that bastard Urhild try the storms of autumn,” Raef said, his voice fierce now, “let him seek the new lands and let him be dashed upon the rocks. We will etch our names in the history of our people, we will catch the eye of Odin.” The words seemed to hearten Rufnir and Asbjork, though he knew the sting of waiting for the spring would chafe them as much as it did Raef.
    It was Rufnir who recovered first, raising his cup of ale. “Then we will wait. And we will follow.” He took a drink, then offered it to Raef, who emptied it while Asbjork, too, drank. Raef gave the brothers a nod, clapping a hand on their shoulders, then pushed his way to the closest table just as fresh platters arrived on the shoulders of red-faced servants. Raef filled a hollowed-out loaf of bread with chunks of venison rich with garlic and a cup with golden mead. As he turned to go to his