Chapter Thirty-one

"There you are!" Freya shouted. "What took you so long?"

"You can go next time," Tyr answered, swinging one of their baskets in his hand almost like he was about to toss it at her.

"Did you get enough?" Ivar asked, his voice rough and strained, his eyes peeled to the door of a little shed.

"Yes."

"Good, hurry up and clean them. It's almost ready."

A little while later and the fish were done, this time strung out on thick leather straps and twine in rows, and Ivar wrapped a cloth around his mouth and nose, opening the door to the shed and dashing in and out. When he came back he coughed a little, his eyes red and watering as he rubbed them with his fingers.

"What are you doing?" Enid asked, and he looked at her, his face cold and stiff as the others laughed.

"You didn't think Ivar would really hunt for you all winter, did you?" Freya smirked, bouncing Frigga on her hip.

"Smoking keeps the fish for longer," Tyr said.

"You're smoking the meat?" Enid asked, before her eyes flicked back to the shed. "You know you don't have to light the fire before you put the fish in, right?"

For a long while no one spoke, for a long while the air around them seemed to grow heavier and darker, but then the children laughed again, this time doubling over, this time that hand covering Freya's lips.

"Ivar…!" Freya gasped. "You did all that for nothing?"

"That's how my uncle did it!"

"Your face is all red, far!" Tyr said, and Enid almost laughed too, watching his shoulders go so stiff and only growing stiffer, his eyes still red and watering and darting between her face and the shed door, but soon they all froze and turned, those smiles and laughter gone as a voice came closer.

"Ivar! Ivar, I want to talk to you."

Enid saw it, that crease grow and deepen on Ivar's forehead, scrunching up his face in a slight scowl as he watched the man come closer.

"What do you want, Olaf?"

The man hiccupped, ruffling Tyr's hair between his fingers and smiling as he tried to stand still. "I'm hungry," he said.

"Then you'd better go home."

"Don't say that, Ivar…" the man grinned. "I heard you're leading your own raids this summer, I want to come with you."

"Why would you want that?" Ivar asked.

"Why?" Olaf laughed. "You made us all very rich last time, Ivar. I want you to do that again."

Ivar studied him a moment, those cold, blue eyes unblinking, his mouth a thin, tight line and for a moment Enid thought he might strike and she almost found herself inching forward to pull Tyr away.

"You can come," Ivar said. "You and your brothers, but only if you go home today."

"Yes!" the man growled, throwing his arms up in the air and swaying, but it was just that yell, that sudden burst of power behind his voice and that bright light in his eyes that made Enid flinch. Suddenly she was back on the boat. Suddenly her hands were clenching into tight fists at her side. "We should drink to this!"

"No," Ivar grunted. "And take whoever is left with you before I change my mind."

Olaf's arms fell, that wide grin on his face melting away as he stared at Ivar and Enid watched, unable to take her eyes away from them, unable to even breathe. Which one of them would win if this came to blows? And would she be able to reach Tyr before anything happened to him?

Olaf laughed again, throwing his arms up and turning around. "Arne, Anas! Let's go to town! I'm missing your wives!"