TLV - 02 - The Road of the Sea Horse by Poul Anderson Page B

Harald was alone in the hall, burnishing a sword, when she entered. Dusty sunlight streamed behind her, making the brown hair a halo at the edge of her cap.
    "Good day," he said, startled. "What brings you here?"
    "I saw this chance to speak to you in private." Her voice was taut, but she faced him unwavering. "Well, then, sit down. What's wrong?"
    "Nothing for me, Harald; nothing that can be healed; but for you." He sighed. "Well?"
    "I have, at last, become friends with some of the ladies hereabouts, and even my maids speak freely." Elizabeth smiled. "I know not why, but they come to tell me their troubles, and I am an outlander. So I've seen how discontent is waxing. The land grows restless, Harald."
    "Bah! What do women know of such matters?"
    "More than you think. Husbands often talk to their wives, whether you believe it or not. They speak of law flouted, and unjust decisions, and grinding taxes. ..."
    "They should have been down in the empire." He laughed. "Then they'd not complain of me."
    "But they do. They even mutter—"
    "Of war?" He leaned forward. "Have no fear of that. I know what I'm doing. True, when a case has two sides, and most do, I give judgment in favor of the men I think most true to me. Isn't it better to keep them thus than try buying a weak friendship? And I am careful in how I clamp my will on the yeomanry. No one thing is worth fighting over. A fine here, a tax there, a threat of outlawry if anger speaks too loud—little else—but bit by bit, the strength of my enemies is whittled down."
    She reached out to him, then withdrew the hand. "Why would you not liefer have the love of the people? That's a horrible name they've fastened on you, Hardrede. I hoped, when first we came here, I hoped you would be called Harald the Good."
    "The Weakling, the Unready, the Milksop." He snorted. "Can't you see I have a kingdom to forge? Hammer blows are needful."
    She looked at him for a while, then nodded, as if to herself. "You are only half a man," she said. "The rest is a storm wind. I must believe God sends the gales."
    He made no answer. She could still surprise him.
    Rising, she smiled, a closed curve of lips, and brushed her fingers across his hair. "When a woman cares for a man, she must take him as he is," she said, and left.
    He half rose to follow, but sat back down. He knew not what he could tell her.
     
    3
     
    At midwinter, Ulf's wedding stood in the cathedral. Harald was there and at the new home, some hours' ride from Nidharos, with both his queens and large gifts; this was a time for gorging and drinking and making merry. Jorunn Thorbergsdottir had filled out somewhat, though she was still pale and slim. She met every gaze boldly. Already the first morning, she and her sister were laughing and whispering together. None could doubt what they told, and Elizabeth threw them a look of scorn.
    Afterward Harald took a few men on another long hunting trip. Nidharos was dreary in the cold months unless you cared for an endless round of feasts and threadbare thoughts; and his leman Thora was too near her time to be much comfort at night. They had good luck and got far north, up among the Finns. Those were thought to be great wizards, and Harald's followers crossed themselves as they bought lucky charms. Several weeks passed before they turned home again.
    As he rode into town, Harald thought eagerly that Thora's child would soon be born. He hoped the new church he was building would assure it was a boy, and healthy. And he turned a blind eye to one of his men who cut runes that the elves might be appeased.
    She was waiting for him at the hall, and they went into the little house that was her own to be by themselves. "You were long gone," she said. "I'd begun to think the child would be born without you here."
    "He wouldn't dare," grinned Harald. "I am the king."
    Her mouth drooped. "It was lonely, though. I care not for sleeping by myself."
    "I fear you must often do so, till these wars are