Wilam and Kirstie let go and looked a bit embarrassed at having behaved as they did, even if most of the crowd just smiled at them. Alm had his arm around Yrsa, and she had her arm around Soren. Inga and Brant looked around and saw the captains Olaf and Jarl headed for the village. Kirstie saw Rune and Harrold head there as well. Mother Vrya and her cane limped beside Chief Kerga, who limped some himself after all those years.

Kirstie quickly distracted herself by reaching for Soren. She knelt down to her son and saw the welt around his eye, and it made her more determined than ever to tell Kare to leave and never come back. She picked him up and set him on her hip before she turned. “Soren,” she said. “This is Wilam.” Soren looked before he turned his shy head into his mother’s shoulder.

“Come on,” Brant said.

“A good son,” Wilam said and brushed the boy’s hair from his face. “Let me see that eye.” Soren would not look up to show the man. “That looks like a real black eye. It must have hurt.”

“Start walking,” Inga said, and the couple began to shuffle slowly in the direction of the village.

“A shock, I think,” Kirstie answered. “And one of many reasons why I am getting a divorce as soon as possible.”

“I had my share of spankings when I was growing up,” Wilam admitted.

“More than his share,” Brant said, with a knowing smile for Inga, who returned the smile.

Wilam continued as if not interrupted. “But my father never hit me. I knew when I did wrong and deserved a whipping, but my father never hit me.”

“Soren did nothing wrong. His father was angry, and he lashed out. He knew if he hit me, I would kill him, so he took his anger out on the child. I have no use for a man who hits people when he does not get his way. I especially want nothing to do with a man who hits children.”

Wilam raised a hand like he was taking an oath, and he said, “I promise to always respect you and the children for as long as I may live, so help me God.”

Kirstie looked down to watch her feet. She said nothing until they reached the door to the big house. Then she said the word that stood out in her mind. “Children?”

Wilam apologized. “I’m sorry. You are all I have thought of for three years. I feel as if we are already married. I’m sorry.”

Kirstie stopped. She set Soren down and let Yrsa take his hand again. She looked again in Wilam’s eyes and hardly knew what to say. She surprised herself as much as Wilam when she finally answered him. “A little girl would be nice.”

“Inside,” Inga said, and took Kirstie by the hand.

“Wilam,” Brant spoke in a tone of voice that got Wilam’s full attention. He motioned toward the doorway, and Wilam nodded and followed him in.

The first order of business was to open a keg of the local brew and get some food cooking almost as an afterthought. Kirstie once wondered why men had to get drunk before discussing business. It seemed an odd ritual, but it was the way it was done.

Yrsa and Buttercup kept Soren outside and occupied. They would eventually take him to Hilda’s where he could play with his friend Hodur. The other three women, Mother Vrya, Inga, and Kirstie sat off to the side in a special area where women were allowed. The women were not supposed to speak unless given permission, though they did not always play by that rule. Certainly, no one stopped Mother Vrya from speaking when she had something to say.

Once the atmosphere was subdued, Chief Kerga began with the introductions.

The strangers were seated where they faced the chief, sort of in the center of the room. There were five of them, Captain Olaf, Wilam, Brant Svenson, and two men who carried a small chest between them. They looked like rough men who kept their eyes on the chest, and that made people curious.

The three ship captains sat up front by the chief. They were all on a slightly raised platform that allowed them to see the whole hall. A dozen elders, mostly men with big, productive farms sat around the strangers, and some other men sat behind them.

“Captain Olaf Sturgeson, mostly Danish from the town of Lucker in Northumbria, English land. My Skipper is Brant Svenson, a fine Norwegian lad through his father Sven. My navigator is young Wilam Halfdanson, the last son of Halfdan Ragnarsson before he sailed off to Ireland to be killed in battle.”

Olaf had to stop as the talk went around the room. Everyone knew about Halfdan Ragnarsson, son of Ragnar Lodbrok, who with his brothers, Bjorn Ironside, Ivar the Boneless, and Sigurd Snake-in-the-eye, raised a great army and invaded England. Only the West Saxons stopped them from conquering the whole island. When the room settled down, Olaf got ready to speak again, but Wilam stood, and the room quieted. He spoke to Kirstie.

“My mother became pregnant days before my father sailed off to try and retake Dublin. By the time I was born, he had already failed and died in battle. So, you see, I never knew my father, and though I carry his blood in my veins, I do not make it a big thing.” He sat.

Olaf added, “Most of the crew call him Wilam, but some, sometimes call him Halfdan out of deference to his father.”

“Thank you,” Kerga said, with an extra-long look at Wilam and a long glance at Kirstie. “Do we have any who will vouch for the captain?”

“I will,” Jarl stood. He told the story of sailing to Normandy and being captured by the hag. Everyone there remembered how frightening the hag of the Vanlil had been, so they did not doubt the horror of the experience. He told about being caged beside the men from Northumbria while he left Old Man Skarde with Kirstie and her maid on the ship. He told how angry he had been at first, not that the three left the ship, but that once again Kirstie would get credit for saving the day. Then he exaggerated the confrontation with the hag beyond belief, but he ended with saying Captain Olaf and his crew stood beside them ready to fight as friends.

“When I found them off the coast of Nidaros, I hailed them, and they said they were on the king’s business. Brant spoke for his crew and said they were looking for Strindlos. I thought it was my duty to escort them here and see what king’s business they had in this place.”

Captain Olaf stood. “Our business is two-fold. First and most important, we are merchants in search of honest trading partners. I was told the people of Trondelag have need of quality crafted ironworks, plows as well as swords. We also have cows in the hold if you have the desire for such. We will take grain, but we would prefer furs such as are scarce in the English countryside and hides that may be worked into many made items.” He stopped speaking because the men began to shake their heads and make noises about not understanding the man. Brant stood, because his Norse was not tainted by such a heavy Danish accent.

“Our business is two-fold.” He took it from the top. “We are first of all merchants in search of fair and honest trading partners. You have the hides and furs that are hard to come by in our home. We have some finely crafted ironworks that you will find interesting and useful. But we can discuss trade a bit later. First, we have a duty to the king. Let me tell you the story.” He glanced at Kirstie and looked at Inga, who smiled for him, and it made him smile.

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MONDAY

Kirstie is rewarded for her work in Northumbria and then needs to figure out how to get a divorce from Kare the Jerk. Until Monday, Happy Reading

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