Islands in the Fog Read Online Free PDF Page A

occupation. In five years, under our noses, he has constantly added hirdmen. His forges spit out weapons and mail fashioned from imported iron. What for, Lord Ulfrik? Peace?"
    "Well asked," Hardar agreed, dropping the bone to his plate. His wife murmured to him, and he held up his arm to her face. "Why are you building up such military power? None of us have done as much."
    Ulfrik sat back on his bench, short of words. He looked into the expectant faces of the other jarls, most were blank, others shocked, but all waited on his answer. Runa inhaled to speak, but Ulfrik clamped his hand atop hers, pressing it to the table. He did not look at her, but gave a reassuring squeeze.
    "Men have come to me of their own will. Many have fled the oppression of Harald Finehair. Others still seek lords to serve after being scattered at Hafrsfjord, even to this day. It is right that I should arm them, house them, and reward them for their oaths. Can you question that?
    "I have traded honestly with my neighbors. Been fair with fishing grounds. Never has one of my men wandered into another jarl's lands to make trouble. We are at peace here. My men take up spear and shield to raid the dog-shit King Harald and take back what he stole from us. Maybe your people, Hardar, have not felt the sting of oppression like the folk of Nye Grenner. But we know the worth of a strong army to protect our homes and freedom, especially after how you greeted us."
    Ulfrik's arms trembled. He only now cast his gaze to the other jarls. Ragnvald smiled in admiration, while Hardar and Vermund were predictably unmoved. The other jarls appeared mollified. No words passed at the high table, the carousing from within and without the hall more than covered the silence. The merriment behind Ulfrik contrasted with the coldness before him. He finally withdrew his hand from Runa's and relaxed into his bench again. But Hardar was not done.
    "Fine words, but we shall see. How long can an army be entertained raiding sheep? How long before they seek new lands? Our lands!"
    Ulfrik shot to his feet. Hardar smirked triumphantly as his wife hissed at him and other jarls turned disgusted faces at him.
    "You insult me in my own hall? I will defend my name and honor! Your face is already swollen like a rotting fish. Do you want me to show you what more I can do? "
    Hardar tried to get to his feet, but Ingrid and his daughter held him down. Runa stood, Gunnar in her arms. "Ulfrik, calm yourself! He is clearly drunk, and you are too."
    Others stood, though they seemed confused as to why they did. Ragnvald and his wife nearly leapt over the table to intervene. "Please, let us not soil a wonderful festival with drunken threats. Lord Ulfrik, Lord Vermund, please sit. Forget these things, I beg you."
    Ulfrik glared at Hardar, whose puffy face reddened as he struggled with his wife and daughter. He turned his threatening gaze at Vermund, his oily smile unmoved. Then he looked at Runa, her eyes wide and pleading. Gunnar had fallen asleep over her shoulder. His son's peaceful repose brought an unexpected chuckle to him. How can he remain asleep through this? Finally he acknowledged Ragnvald with a nod and sat.
    Hardar wrested free from Ingrid and stood alongside Vermund. "I need air," he proclaimed. He stalked off the high stage and pushed his way through the drunken crowd for the hall door. Vermund followed without a word. Ingrid and her daughter sat stricken.
    Ulfrik was sorry for them, and shook his head. "We have all drank too much tonight, Lady Ingrid. Please forgive me."
    A wave of murmured agreement rippled around the tables. Ingrid simply bowed her head in shame and studied the table before her.
    Ulfrik then turned to glimpse Hardar and Vermund exiting the hall. A tiny smile showed on his face. He had become strong enough to elicit jealousy. Ulfrik was drunk, but the part of his mind that remained sober told him that this was nothing to celebrate.
     

CHAPTER THREE
     
    Toki stood upon the