The bishop took his turn praying and spreading the thurible’s fragrant incense over me. Then, upon my father’s command, I stood and received my new sword, reading the bold engraving on the blade: Be slave of all.
The king repeated the Testing commission for Kresten. All the while, from the corner of my eye, I assessed the stately group of men standing at the right hand of the king’s throne, attired in their long white robes trimmed with lynx and fox fur. The council was composed of officials who represented the thirteen most populated districts in Scania. Many of them were older than the king, having been chosen to be on the Lagting long ago in ceremonies similar to those required of the princes.
I’d known the council members my whole life, but only within recent years had I taken the time to seek them out individually and learn under them with the hope I would grow in my own wisdom.
Why had they chosen slavery for me? I guessed there was a profound purpose, that the meaning was just as cryptic as Mikkel’s engraving. Whatever the case, I vowed to complete my challenge to the best of my ability.
As Kresten received his Testing, I wasn’t surprised to discover he would have to go to the Great Isle too. He was tasked with living in Mercia’s Inglewood Forest as a woodcutter, and the engraving on his new sword stated: Deny Thyself.
After the last prayer of the ceremony, the gathering erupted into cheering and clapping. My brothers and I hugged and backslapped each other. Then we took our places at the head table with the king and queen for a final feast that would last well into the night, ushering in the first day of May. We would not get much sleep before our ship set sail for the Great Isle, but I didn’t mind. I would gladly relinquish slumber for the chance to say farewell to friends and have one last night of entertainment before the months of toil and deprivation.
After we finished eating, I pushed back from the head table and stood. “I would like to make a toast.” Empty platters and trenchers spread out before us, the mutton picked clean, the greasy bones all that remained of the meal.
I lifted my chalice of spiced mead. The laughter and talking tapered to silence, leaving only the crackling of the large hearth fire at the center of the hall. Though the room was dimly lit and hazy with smoke, I could still see the approval and love on the dozens of faces directed my way. Friends, fellow knights, and the most important men in the country. Already they saw me as their future ruler. The Testing would confirm it.
“My dear countrymen,” I said once all eyes were upon me. “On the eve of the Testing, we want you to know that we willingly go out into the world and place ourselves in the severest circumstances in order to prove our worthiness to you.”
I glanced to Mikkel on one side of me and Kresten on the other, and they both nodded their agreement. Mikkel’s features radiated somberness. As usual, he’d likely taken more time to ponder the dangers and difficulties we would encounter in the days to come. Kresten, on the other hand, boasted a wide grin, eager for the challenges and adventures.
While we three princes were decidedly distinct, we each shared many characteristics forged during the rigorous training and education we’d been given in our childhood and youth. Most importantly, the king and queen had instilled the value of our brotherly bonds, that our friendship with each other must supersede any claim for the throne.
In truth, I could say that even if I lost the Testing, I’d harbor no bitterness or ill will toward my brothers. While I might be disappointed in myself, I admired them and would serve underneath them if that’s what the Lagting decided. And they felt the same about me, although of late, I’d sensed more tension with Mikkel.
I lifted my chalice first toward Mikkel and then Kresten. “I wish the best for each of my brothers. May God grant you wisdom and strength in the days to come.”
They lifted their chalices in return before we sipped. Then I raised my cup toward my father and mother sitting at the center of the table. “I wish for the king and queen long life. May God grant you many more happy days.”
My father nodded his acceptance and my mother smiled, her eyes radiating her pride in my brothers and me. In her snow-white gown, with the traditional Scania headdress covering her long blond hair, Queen Joanna was exquisite. Crystal beads and jewels dangled from the circlet around her head and made a tinkling sound every time she turned. The Great Isle was known for its beautiful women, and she was no exception.
“Finally, to all the citizens of Scania.” I shifted my chalice toward the long room and the full tables. “We pledge our loyalty, our love, and our lives to you.”
After a chorus of affirmation, I drank from the cup and envisioned myself as king one day, standing in this spot in the great hall and drinking another toast to the peace and security of the country and people I cherished.
When the last of the guests had fallen asleep on benches or stretched out in the rushes on the floor, I allowed myself to rest for an hour before I rose and retired to my chamber. After grooming with the help of my manservant, I strapped on my new sword alongside my seax. The curved knife was my weapon of choice, since I’d long ago perfected its use. While I’d have to leave my sword behind once I was bound as a slave in the mines, the seax I could easily sneak inside, concealing it in the hiding place in the thick sole of my boot.
Still sated from the feasting of the night, I didn’t waste time breaking my fast. Instead, I spent my last hour amongst my closest friends and servants, saying my farewells. As they accompanied me down the mountain, the light of dawn broke over the eastern crags. I drew in a deep breath of the frigid spring air thick with brine and allowed myself a moment to appreciate the landscape.
Bergenborg Castle had been built two centuries ago on the high bluff overlooking the fjord. Thus, it provided not only a strategic advantage against anyone daring enough to attack, but it afforded the most stunning view in all of Scania. The inlet’s deep-blue mouth was calm and glassy, reflecting the tall cliffs on either side. The recently thawed waterfalls on the north side cascaded down the steep rock face.
Towering in the distance beyond the cliffs, the mountain ranges were still covered in thick layers of snow and ice that would linger well into the summer, but whose runoff would eventually turn the rivers and fjords even clearer and bluer. The evergreens somehow managed to find places to grow here and there amongst the jutting rocks, with clumps of pine and spruce interspersed with scrub consisting of dwarf birch, juniper, and all varieties of willow bushes.
No doubt Mikkel had spent his last hour walking the trails that led out onto the cliffs. As I scanned the surrounding area, I half-expected to see him standing tall and proud on a nearby outcropping. But if he was out admiring the beauty of our homeland one last time, I didn’t see him.
Kresten, on the other hand, had already arrived at the waterfront. He stood on the wharf talking with several sailors, clearly eager to be on his way. If the weather cooperated, we would have several days and nights of hard rowing before we reached the Great Isle. If we were able to catch the wind, we might be able to raise our sails and make better time. But with the unpredictability of the East Sea during the spring, we could take no risks.
As my companions and I descended the trail, their cajoling and friendly banter kept me from thinking too gravely on my imminent departure. At this early hour, the streets were mostly deserted. The fishermen had already departed for the day in their boats, determined to catch their fill of the salmon, cod, and pollack that entered the fjords during the spring. A few tradesmen had begun the process of opening their shops, and the scent of smoked salmon permeated the air.