one kind of fame. What has father gained in all his years of striving?"
Magnus' eyes widened, and he looked around him almost in fright. "Let him not hear you say that!"
"I say what I will," replied Olaf steadily, "though most times I find it best to keep my own counsel."
Magnus scratched his head. "You're an odd one."
They paced for a while, talking of other matters. Magnus tried to speak of the battle at the Niss like an old warrior, and of the girl he had lately bedded as if she were the hundredth rather than the first, but had an uneasy feeling that his brother held back a grin.
A door opened in the ladies' bower, and Elizabeth came out with her daughters and a couple of servant women. She smiled shyly at the boys. "Good day," she said.
Magnus nodded stiffly, he had long ago taken his mother's side, but Olaf showed her the same aloof courtesy he gave all the world. Ingigerdh said: "We were weaving in there, but it got too dark. Hoo, it's cold today!" She rubbed her hands: a plump apple-cheeked girl of fourteen, neither fair nor ugly, the one who was always only half remembered.
Maria outshone her too much. In eighteen years she had reached the full bloom of her youth, tall and slender, white skinned and high - breasted, with lustrous sorrel tresses and a face carved thin and lovely. There seemed a sadness on her, though she did not speak of it.
"Best I go in," said Magnus frostily. "The king is talking privately with the Danes, but he may have need of me." He walked off stiff legged.
Elizabeth's lips twitched, and she was surprised to see the same smile hover on Olaf. "Know you how the talk fares?" she asked.
"No," said Olaf, "no man knows that."
"I hoped . . ." Elizabeth sighed. "No matter. Let him decide; none else can do it."
"My mother ..." Olaf stopped, reddening.
"Yes?" said Elizabeth gently.
"My mother counsels war to the end," he blurted. "She should remember it's not an affair for women. ... I meant no offense, my lady."
"None taken, Olaf. It's truth you speak."
He mumbled some excuse and followed Magnus.
Elizabeth looked after him. "When that lad grows up, he will be a wise man," she said. "I think already he knows how much may be done simply by waiting."
"As Svein E stridhsson has waited?" said In gigerdh.
"Yes." The queen dismissed her servants and began to walk the courtyard. Her daughters accompanied her on either side. Snow scrunched beneath their feet, otherwise the court lay frozen into silence.
"I wonder if King Svein does not have tomorrow with him," she went on after a moment. "He uses his head."
"Father is a man of deep mind," said Ingigerdh staunchly.
"Yes . . . deeper, perhaps, than anyone knows, even himself. Who can tell what he means to do, or how much he has already done? It's a lonely work he has—the last and greatest of the Vikings, seeking the end of the Viking age. I know not, I know not. . . ." Her voice faded away. A few snowflakes swirled down to lie on her cowl.
"If we get peace with Denmark," said Maria, "then Thora will be ill pleased." More than a little malice was in her tone.
Elizabeth flushed. "Peace would be best," she said, "but peace or war, none of us is to say a word against it. A woman who can wait—a lifetime if she must—and stand by her man in good and ill, wisdom and madness—which Thora cannot—such a woman has hope."
"Waiting!" said Maria bitterly.
Elizabeth gave her a glance of compassion. "Yes, it is the hardest part," she said. "To wait, and not to wish death on anyone else, but to accept God's will—it is no easy thing to be a Christian."
The girl looked away. "Think you father will end the war?" she asked in a hurried slur.
Elizabeth's hands writhed together. "I know not. Never a word will I say if he chooses to fight, but—Christ give it be peace!"
3
In spring, Harald and Svein called out goodly fleets and made a stormy passage to the Gota border between their kingdoms. Men knew the meeting would be to discuss terms,
J.A. Konrath, Bernard Schaffer