Giants of the Frost Page 29

  “You were a warrior, Vidar,” you said, smoothing my hair from my brow as we lay beside the fire in the dark little cabin, “and now you are a lover. What you have been matters far less than what you’re becoming.”

  Your words awoke something within me. You were right: I could become something different. I wasn’t constrained by my blood. I had a free will. If Odin wouldn’t let me bring you back to Asgard, then I would simply stay in Midgard with you. The solution was so blindingly clear that it took my breath away.

  And still you said, “Wait, Vidar. Let’s enjoy these last weeks and not talk about the future. Be here with me now.”

  This made me suspicious. “Don’t you see a future for us, Halla?” I asked. “Is your love for me only now?”

  You touched my face with your soft fingers and an expression of deep sadness filled your eyes. “Oh, no, my love,” you said, “this love is past, present and future. This love is eternal and mighty, but I dare not long to be so happy beyond a few short weeks. You are different from me, and I fear that difference will drive us apart.”

  Whatever struggle I felt between familial duty and the call of my heart, I didn’t realize for a long time that you were struggling too. You rarely mentioned your family, and when you did you were dismissive. Every afternoon, you dutifully returned home to them, though I sensed your reluctance growing greater and greater as the weeks passed.

  One afternoon, three short weeks before winter’s date, you were in a somber mood without explanation. I allowed you to be silent, and I was silent too. Shared silence with you was sweet and warm.

  “We should watch the sunset,” you said. “This might be the last clear day for many months.”

  So we walked out through the golden haze that misted between the trees, until we found the beach. You turned to me, nestled into my body with your ear against my heart.

  “What troubles you today, Halla?” I asked over the roar of the sea.

  You didn’t answer for a very long time. I held you and the sun fell into the water, fracturing into golden shards. As the last of them dissolved into the ocean and night spread from the east, you looked up, and you said, “I want to be with you always.”

  “And I want to be with you always.”

  You stepped back and took my hands. “To be apart from you is to fall all to pieces. There would be no center left inside me. You are my heart, Vidar.” Your eyes went to the sea. “You are my heart,” you murmured.

  I couldn’t think of words enough to answer, so I stayed silent.

  “Tonight, I will not return to my mother. Tonight, I will spend next to you, and give my body to you as I have already given my soul.”

  Your words warmed my blood to fever and I found myself laughing.

  “Are you mocking me?”

  “No, my love. I wonder at how you have managed to make an Aesir warrior feel like a blushing virgin.”

  You laughed then, and fell into my arms. I squeezed you hard.

  “Tomorrow, when I wake in your arms, we’ll make plans,” you said, your voice muffled against my chest. “Plans for the rest of time.”

  “Sensible plans?” I said.

  “Yes,” you said, “in spite of our stupid families.”

  I took you back to my cabin in the woods, and as night fell and a chill deepened among the trees outside, you laughed and said you were “wicked” for missing the evening meal at home, and I couldn’t keep my lips or my hands away from your warm body. And when the time approached, you knelt before me and you unfastened the clasps on your clothes and slid out of them as easily as a petrel takes to the sky from the treetops.

  “I love you, Vidar,” you said, sinking into my arms.

  “I love you, Halla,” I replied, losing myself in your warm skin.

  The wind moaned outside and the fire cracked and popped beside us. It was the last moment of true happiness that I knew. Before we could proceed another moment, I was alerted by thumping footfalls in the woods.

  Your eyes went to the door. “Who is that?”

  “Halla, you must get dressed. Someone’s coming,” I said.

  You sat up and felt around for your clothes while I went to the door. A man, fair and broad with a bushy beard, stood in the trees about twenty feet away.

  “Who are you? Where is my cousin Halldisa?” he said.

  “Halldisa is safe,” I answered. “She is here with me.”

  You appeared at the door then, flustered and disheveled. “Asbjorn!” you exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you, harlot. How dare you bring such shame on your family with a heathen man?”

  You looked at me with raised eyebrows, barely taking him seriously.

  “Well, Asbjorn,” you said to him, “it would hardly be the first time, as you know.”

  He advanced and I saw that he had pulled out a sword. I grabbed you to push you back inside, but you fought me off.

  “Asbjorn, put down the weapon, you fool,” you said. “Vidar, ignore him. I’ll go home with him, and I’ll explain that I intend to take you for a husband, and they’ll all just have to accept it. Don’t worry. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  Asbjorn looked glum, his sword pointing impotently at the ground. “You bring great dishonor to Church Island, Halla,” he said.

  “Yes, yes. Come on, let’s not waste any more time. It’s cold.” You took his arm and turned him around, smiled at me over your shoulder, and mouthed the words, “I love you.”

  The struggle with my impulses, which dictated I should seize Asbjorn and hack off his limbs, kept me silent. I said nothing as you left. Nothing. That nothing has plagued me for a thousand years. I wished every day that I had said, “I love you, Halldisa. I will be yours forever. No matter what happens I will make certain that we are together. Do not be afraid, not of death, nor of silence, nor of my father. I will find you, I will bring you back to me, this I promise you with all my heart.”

  But I said nothing.

  You didn’t return the next day, but I allowed that you needed time to explain your intentions to your family. I passed the long lonely hours in carving, keeping my hands busy so that my heart and mind couldn’t plot against me. When you didn’t arrive again the following day, I quietly dressed and, with axe and spear, strode off to find you.

  When I walked into Isleif’s camp, two of the little girls were playing in a tree house, Isleif was talking to a woman who I guessed was your mother, and Asbjorn was fixing the beam over the door to the church. One of the girls saw me first and came running over, shouting, “Where is your horse today?”

  I put my hand out to stop her coming near me, and I must have looked serious and frightening enough because she pulled up and glanced uncertainly from Asbjorn to me.

  “Come here,” Asbjorn said, and the little girl went to him. By this time, Isleif and your mother were watching me. Isleif said something inaudible, and your mother seized the little girl’s hand and took her inside. Asbjorn stayed on my right, trying to look threatening.

  “You visit us again, Vidar,” Isleif said, smiling. This time, though, I could see something beneath the smile. Fear, yes, but also self-righteous piety.

  “I want Halla,” I said.

  “You can’t have her,” Asbjorn said. “She belongs to our family. Go back to whatever heathen place you came from and leave us be.”

  I ignored Asbjorn; he was not the person who held the power in this community. “Isleif, Halla and I are in love and intend to be husband and wife,” I said. “Hand her over to me. You hold her against her will.”

  “Her will has been infected by you,” Isleif said. “Halldisa is a Christian woman, and as soon as her right mind is returned to her, she intends to take my dear friend Ulf as husband. You must leave the island so that Halla can recover her senses.”

  Anger burned brightly inside me and a flash glimmered behind my eyes. I knew that feeling too well, the rush of blood to my brain before battle, where images and sounds became sharp and hot. “H
alla is mine,” I said. “As I am hers. Bring her out here to explain.”

  “No, she is with her family. She will not see you again. Return to . . . your home. Work no more of your devil’s magic here on Church Island.”

  “It is Odin’s Island,” I bellowed, and Isleif took a step back. My hands tightened on the haft of my axe. I knew precisely how it would feel to lift it and split Isleif’s head open with the blade. I knew the exact weight of the swing, the sound it would make, the shudder of resistance vibrating up to my shoulders . . . Then I thought about you, somewhere inside, held against your will and commanded to keep very still and quiet. You would not want me to kill Isleif. You would want me to be sensible and try to solve this problem with my brain.

  I took a deep breath and forced my arms to relax. I could see Isleif relax too.

  “I will return,” I said, “and I will make Halla mine. But I won’t spill your blood, Isleif. Tell Halla that she need not fear me.”

  “Give yourself to Christ, Vidar,” Isleif said. “It’s the only way.”

  I bit my tongue and walked away. Shame tickled my face and neck. If my brothers could see me, backing down from a fight, letting a Christian bully me into meekness! Then I realized what my brothers thought of me was no longer my concern, and I felt liberated. Under the most pressing of circumstances, I had kept my wits and I had controlled my urge to kill. This meant for certain that I was shedding the curse of my blood. This meant for certain that I was worthy of your love and trust, that I was becoming.

  I had never turned from a battle before, nor had I ever tried to reason with my father. The first experiment had been successful, and that success heartened me for the second.

  Wisdom is not a lover’s strength.

  As soon as the sun sank I returned to Asgard. The long hall at Valaskjálf was alive with fires and music and chatter. From one end to another, members of my family, their friends and servants, warriors visiting from Valhalla, captives, concubines and Vanir slaves talked, laughed, sang, cooked, scowled, kissed, fought, ate and drank. These were our golden days, when my father’s hall was bursting with warmth and company, not the unhappy place it is now. Smoke from the fires collected in the cavernous ceiling, escaping slowly through small holes in the silverwork. I stepped inside and looked around for Odin. He was nowhere in view and I grew irritated. I wanted to speak with him while my nerve still held, while the carefully rehearsed address was clear in my mind.

  My eyes found my brother Vali across the hall. I weaved through the tables and the people and laid my hand on his shoulder.

  “Brother!” he exclaimed, grabbing my hand and squeezing it firmly. His tongue slurred on the ale he was drinking. “You are returned. It has been too long since we have seen you. Come, sit, drink.”

  “Vali, I need to speak with Odin.”

  He fixed me with an amused gaze. “Really now? It sounds very serious.”

  “It is serious. Where is he?”

  “Indisposed.”

  “Drunk?”

  “We’re all drunk.” He gestured around the room. “Perhaps you wouldn’t feel so serious if you were too?”

  He was gazing at me unevenly, a smile on his lips. I returned the smile. “It’s serious enough to wait until he’s sober. I’ll speak to him in the morning,” I said.

  Vali pulled me down next to him. Two Midgard warriors were demonstrating a combat routine to a small group. I watched them battle, their spears and axes glinting in the firelight. One ran the other through and a great cheer went up as the victim fell to the floor with a crash and a groan. The victor reached for a mug of ale while his companion was dragged out in a smear of blood.

  The entertainment over, Vali turned to me. “So, brother, what is this serious business? Something to do with the Christians on Odin’s Island?”

  “Yes, and no. They are bothersome, but not all Christians. There is one woman in particular . . .” I had no idea how to articulate to my brother what I felt. I knew that every attempt would sound to him like I was speaking a foreign tongue.

  Vali grinned suggestively. “Pretty, is she?”

  “I should like to take her as wife.”

  “A Midgard woman?”

  “I’m in love with her.” I couldn’t meet his eyes, braced myself for the barrage of mockery.

  “He won’t let you,” Vali said dismissively, draining his mug.

  “He has to let me,” I said.

  “Why can’t you find somebody here?” Vali said, indicating those around him. He singled out a dark-haired woman near the roasting spit. “How about her?”

  “She is nobody. She is anybody. Halla is irreplaceable; she is always and forever all I will ever love.”

  “Good luck,” Vali said coldly, with a derisive snort.

  “If he won’t let me bring her here, then I’ll go there and stay,” I declared, pounding a clenched fist on the table. “I’m not a prisoner.”

  “Of course you’re not,” Vali said, meeting my gaze unevenly.

  I pulled myself to my feet. “Brother, I will save the rest for Odin. I have no heart for celebrating, so I’ll go to my bed now.”

  Vali nodded, already turning away. Another fight was about to commence. “Sleep with your problem, Vidar, and perhaps by morning it will be solved.”

  My room was in an outbuilding at the western end of Valaskjálf and north a hundred paces. I lit the fire and lay down next to it, watching the flames for many long hours while I turned my problem over and over in my mind. I missed you wildly. I hadn’t known that somebody’s absence could create such an ache in my bones. I had to be with you, and in order to be with you, I had to gain my father’s permission to bring you back to Asgard. Isleif could not attempt to control you here in my father’s hall, nor could your actions bring dishonor to your family. I closed my eyes and imagined you next to me. Despite the echoes of revelry that occasionally drifted to my ears on a gust of sea air, I fell asleep.

  When I woke, it was with disquiet in my belly. A sound had disturbed me. What was it? It was still dark, but birdsong told me day was bare moments away. Then the sound again.

  Dogs.

  Wild dogs, released from the pit. Odin’s dogs, his war companions; four feet at the shoulder and ravenous for warm flesh, and only Odin could control them. Their savage loyalty meant that anyone else who approached would lose at least a limb. If the dogs were loose, their master was not far behind.

  I started upright, leaped to my feet. Odin’s horn sounded. The dogs barked in frenzy. I ran to my door, but found my way barred by some unseen object. I turned to the shutter and lifted it, eyes straining to focus in the mist.

  A blur of animal bodies streamed past. Then Odin, on top of Sleipnir, twice as fast as any other horse known to the Aesir. His torch glimmered off his helmet, his hunching shoulders were clothed in fur, his axe gleamed. Vali, my traitorous brother, rode in his wake.

  “Odin!” I cried, hoping vainly that he wasn’t taking the dogs to Bifrost. To Midgard and Halla. The last shred of night was unraveling, Bifrost would be closed at any moment, and the door defied every attempt I made to open it.

  “There is no love, Vidar,” Odin called, and his voice whipped behind him on the wind. “There is only fate.”

  * * *

  How can I describe to you the agony of anxiety that day brought me? By the time I had hammered my way out of the room—an oak table with a boulder upon it had blocked the door—it was daylight. Bifrost was closed.

  I saddled Arvak and waited all day by the gleaming stone towers for the first shadow of night to come. Thoughts burned in my brain amid confusion and terror. Somewhere, under layers of hope and denial, I knew you were already dead, but still I constructed detailed fantasies, where Odin killed every member of your family but spared you. The sun sank behind me. Heimdall arrived, grinning at me knowingly. My panic was too focused to allow another thought in. The bridge opened, I plunged down its colored contours toward Midgard.

  The world was all torn to
pieces.

  I could smell smoke and blood. Ice hung from the trees. A wind howled down the ragged corridors between their trunks. My heart weighed in my chest like a stone, sick and frozen.

  “Odin?” I called. “Vali?” I tentatively moved Arvak out of the wood, toward the camp. There was a horse’s screech behind me, the whimper and thump of brainless dogs. Somebody laughed, then the laughter faded. My family, disappearing to Bifrost and home.

  The panic was hot and heavy in my mind. Arvak broke the cover of the trees and the camp was laid out before me.

  There was hardly a thing left of it. The three cabins were razed and smoldering. The church burned slowly. I dismounted and moved closer to inspect it. My father or my brother had soaked the wood on the west wall so that the flames were low and green. Hanging from the wood, pinned up with spears, was Isleif’s corpse. I kicked open the door and peered inside, then turned instantly and tried to forget what I had seen. The women and children, hanged and burned, like ghastly dolls. Among them, no flash of white hair. You weren’t there. I felt my lungs expand. Perhaps you had escaped.

  I moved through the choking ruins toward the fjord and down into the trees again. I found the remains of the men near the water. Had they tried to fight, or had they stood like hapless deer while Odin’s dogs ripped them to pieces? A groan nearby made me catch my breath and spin around. Asbjorn, pinned to a tree. The dogs had started on him but not finished. I approached. His pale eyes met mine, but there was no recognition in them. He was not dead in body, but I suspected Asbjorn had long since ceased to be in mind. I carefully placed the tip of my spear over his heart and ended his suffering. He shrieked and twitched, the last mortal instinct, then fell slack against his bonds.

  Still, I had not found you.

  I took a deep breath. “Halla?” I called. “Halla?”

  Maybe you were with my father and brother, a captive in Asgard. Even though I knew how captives were treated at Valaskjálf, the thought gave me joy. Alive, I could help you, I could speak to you and hold you. Dead, you were separated from me forever.