Grettir had a difficult conversation with his wife, Kistin. They had been happily married for nearly twenty years. She had born him five children and been his faithful helpmeet in ruling Sequarl. She loved him, he knew, and he had grown to love her. What he had to say was a bitter pill for her to swallow and there was no way to sugar-coat it. To become King of Telemark, Grettir would have to wed Ella Finehair and take her as a second wife. Kistin, raised as nobleman’s daughter, was taking lessons in statecraft from her father, Yithmac the White, when Grettir was still herding goats and pulling weeds in the family vegetable patch. She understood the politics, and could see the benefits as well as he. Eventually, she sighed and said, “Look Grettir, I can see that you are set on this and I will not stand in your way, but have a care lest my old age become a vale of tears.”
By comparison his conversation with the King on the same subject was straightforward. Grettir had feared the King might be sensitive about such a change in the balance of power in his realm. He knew it would not be popular with the other magnates who watched each other like hawks over changes to each other’s powers. “A capital idea!” says the King. “Why don’t more of my vassals come up with such good ideas as you Grettir. All I hear from them are complaints about tariffs and taxes and demands for more licences to collect their own. You bring me solutions! I hear Ella is a fine-looking woman, you lucky dog!” Then, taking a slightly more serious tone, “I don’t suppose Kistin is too happy about it, but I’m sure you’ll win her round. You’ll certainly need that fancy flying steed of yours if you are going to keep both wives sweet, and it’ll cost you a fortune in flowers. Good luck and let me know when the happy day is. Oh, you haven’t asked her yet? Big, dashing, handsome chap like you; I’m sure you won’t have any difficulties in persuading her. Do let me know if you need any elven love potions!” he winks at Grettir who shuffles his feet at this and takes his leave.
The conversation with Ella herself was tougher than he expected. He had rather flattered himself that Ella would leap at the chance of a marriage to one of the foremost Heroes of the Age at the height of his powers. So he was taken aback by her manifest reluctance. In the end, as with Kistin, it was the political arguments that seemed to sway her. By marrying Grettir she would retain her position without becoming a pawn in a game played by any number of drunken vikings, including Skirmir’s unsavoury sons. Grettir at least was a known quantity, experienced as a ruler as well as a warrior. She also seemed to Grettir to be motivated by what she thought was best for Telemark, as well as herself. She was insistent that Grettir agree that any children they had would inherit Telemark from him. Grettir agreed but knew that dynastic progression was not the way in Telemark – otherwise they would not have been having this conversation in the first place. With the Hand of Osiris upon him, Grettir had not aged physically for the last ten years. He might fall in battle but otherwise he did not think that he would have to concern himself about the succession any time soon. Their betrothal was announced a few days later, with the wedding planned three weeks after that.
Grettir had an easier time with his next conversations. Lief Eirikson and Kolvin of Dollarside gave him their support without even trying to strike bargains They appreciated his support against the Legion and plainly saw Grettir as an alternative to a potentially bloody interregnum. They were a little hesitant about setting the date for an Allthing in the middle of summer, just after the planned wedding, when so many Telemark warriors would still be away raiding, but the argument that the Legion could not be guaranteed not to return swayed them. Harvald almost fell over himself in relief to accept Grettir as his lord and become his huscarle. He was definitely more a follower than a leader, at least at this time in his life. Deygulf, could not, of course, be found to be consulted. Skirmir’s sons were surly and belligerent, but surprisingly content to be bought off. They left Telemark shortly after in a well-fitted out longship.
The wedding was a splendid affair. The ceremony itself took place in the castle, attended by invited guests and officiated by a priestess of Freyja, after the local custom. It was followed by a mounted progress through the town. Twenty thousand commemorative silver pieces, struck in the Chittagong Royal Mint, were scattered in their wake, each of double weight and purity and featuring the likenesses of the happy couple. The most spectacular display of fireworks ever seen in the northern world was teleported in by Paradoxides and Ubaron, the gift of the Queen of Basi. A sweating Paradoxides could be seen afterwards, drawing heavily on the cigar with which he had lit the fuse and holding a large brandy in a shaking hand. Shiploads of free ale and wine were shipped in from Sequarl. The occasion was only slightly marred by some rowdy behaviour, fueled no doubt by the barrels of cheap licquor sold on the fringes by a rogue landlord, called Trevillion, whose day job was supposed to be Grettir’s chief of security.
At the Allthing Lief Eirikson and Kolvin of Dollarside proposed Grettir as King of Telemark. Grettir made a speech (carefully polished, along with his delivery, by Rune-Injalf) in which he emphasised his own role in the recent war against the Legion, the possibility of their return and the need for leadership and stability if they did. He also made much of his prior experience and success as a ruler in Sequarl. None spoke directly against him, but there were some who said that there were many other potential candidates still at sea who yet had to hear of the events of the early summer. Perhaps one of them might be yet more favoured of the Gods. Some wag in the crowd shouted to the effect that they could hardly be favoured by the Gods if they weren’t here today. This got a good laugh from the crowd. A figure stood forth brandishing a battleaxe (in clear contravention of the custom that attendees should be unarmed) and shouted “Grettir for King!”. It was Deygulf. The cry was taken up by those around him and rippled from there through the crowd. Soon Grettir was being raised upon a shield and proclaimed King. There may have been dissenters but they were not vocal. Thus Grettir by acclaim became the King of Telemark.
Grettir was formally enthroned a few days later and crowned with the Iron Crown of Telemark, an ancient relic from Imperial times upon which was inscribed the cheerful motto: “Heavy hangs the fate of the nation”. Apparently, it had not been much in vogue amongst Telemark Kings to wear it recently, and Grettir could understand why – it was heavy, uncomfortable and had a rather sinister feel to it. He could sense the power residing in it, though it did not appear to have any active magic. However, in the absence of the sword it was an important symbol of Kingship.
Looking around the room he could see his youngest child Cirgan was conversing with a tall dark, heavyset man. Alone amongst his five children Cirgan had insisted on attending the wedding – the others had plausible excuses and had deployed them. He had stayed for the Allthing and was now here at his father’s coronation. Grettir joined his son: man he was speaking to was Deygulf. They were discussing the Black Years – the aftermath of the fall of the Empire and the establishment of the Northern Kingdoms. Cirgan was remarkably well informed for an eleven year old. When he was born there was much talk about him being the fetch of Cirgan Stone-Eyes, a Prince of Sequarl from those days. Deygulf was equally knowledgeable and said that the Iron Crown was that of the Turni the Merciless – another ruler from those dark times. Grettir mentioned the loss of the Skirmir’s sword, but he shrugged and said that it was an evil thing and that they were well rid of it. Grettir thanked him for his support and the spoke a while. When they finished talking he seemed to just melt into the shadows. Cirgan seemed to see him more clearly than anyone else and appeared to have formed a bond with him. Grettir thought he had something of the look of the shape-shifting family of first men to which Styrbjorn and Valakar belonged – and there was something of the wolf about him. They were long-lived and it would not have surprised him to discover that Deygulf had been there in person to witness the Black Years.
G-27
OE Date: July 695
Characters: Grettir NPCs: Deygulf, Cirgan and a Cast of Thousands
Real World: June 2012; Where: Maisemore
See also Ubaron’s Diaries