23
Fern
“For years we stayed in Norvergr, fighting for Harald Fairhair. Twenty or thirty summers, I think.” Svein glanced at the wolf who waited outside as if looking for confirmation.
I sat near the fire, watching the snowfall, half listening to Svein continue his story.
“Then we boarded dragon-headed ships and crossed the sea. There were some islands the king wanted to conquer. North of here. Do you know why they called the king ‘Fairhair’?”
“Because he had blond hair?” I guessed.
“That and he refused to cut it until he conquered all he could. Some promise he made to a lady.”
“Did he ever cut it?”
Svein shrugged. “He was the king. He did as he pleased.”
Outside the lean-to, the wolf slumped in the snow. The blizzard had dumped more onto the already massive drifts. I wished Dagg
