Welcome to CHAPTER 43 of the Kinsmen Die podcast, home of fantasy fiction based on Norse mythology that’s written and read by me, Matt Bishop.

In this podcast I read my first novel, Kinsmen Die, one chapter at a time. And, with each episode, when it makes sense, I provide some commentary about the source materials I’ve referenced in the text.

In chapter 39, we were with the Jotunn warband Helveg as it descended into a huge cave beneath...or within...a glacier. Using a device that looks like a divining rod, they found a doorway to another place. Vaft went through it -- and stayed on the other side.

In chapter 40, we were with Frigg who tended to her wounded husband, Odin, after he sought counsel with the taciturn Norns and then fought a mysterious water spirit. This was the preamble to the council of Aesir at Ithavoll. There were a lot of white moths fluttering around.

In Chapter 41, we were with Odin at the council. Everyone at the magical fruits, the more you eat the more you...uh...get younger. But, Odin and Frigg only ate half of their fruits while Odin dropped one into a bag and sent Geri away with it. Ignoring all the white moths, the council discussed Baldr's dreams -- the reason Odin was summoned back in the first place. Odin said he would figure it out with giving specifics. They also discussed the attack on Hals -- the how's and why's. Nobody could figure it out. But we did learn a bit more about the world and how much Odin hates the Jotunn. Next the discussed the broken, scorched "device" that Vidar had been working on. They thought that maybe it was that stick that prompted the attack.

In Chapter 42, we were with Loki. Turns out, he's been around since Odin descended along Yggdrasil to Ithavoll. Loki left the council in moth form, then he transformed into an owl…and then he passed through a doorway, which was a pool of water, on one of Yggdrasil’s branches, and reached Utgard. He then paused to think a bit and then went to meet the Skrymir of the Jotunn. As a reminder, Loki's two sons Vali and Narfi are with Helveg. Loki watched "the work" occurring -- sleeping Jotunn being dragged out of the frozen lake and brought into the nearby cave. He then saw many Jotunn in a huge cave far below Utgard just kinda chillin and waiting for orders. We learned, also, Loki's nefarious plan: Murder Baldr. Why? We're still not entirely sure, but it sounds like revenge. Loki expected the Skrymir to say that the Jotunn would NOT attack when they'd promised...which kinda ruined Loki's plan...but he did not expect the Skrymir to ask him to proceed with Baldr's murder...which would also ruin Loki's plan because, as Odin says in the Havamal, only the live man catches the cow.

This week, we're back with Odin.

So, let’s get to it.

Chapter Forty-Three
Odin
Odin kept his expression stony. Frigg was right. They would have to deal with Saglund. The man stood there respectfully enough—they were in Gladsheim’s main hall—but his every response was contradictory.
“No, battle does that,” Odin repeated, his words clipped. “Something the Einherjar have seen too little of these past winters.”
“With respect, Sigfather, we haven’t been at war since long before you left,” Saglund said. “The ongoing training is critical to maintaining the Einherjar’s fighting edge. Every warrior fights every day. They feast and rest at night, then rise and do it all over again. And if I may, they fought well when they faced your son with you.”
“Fair enough. But how would they have done without my charm to bolster them?”
“They would have held, Sigfather. Or fought and died. All through this long peace, I’ve had them training with your baresarks, as you ordered before you left. They have a sense for how to stand against foes with superior strength.”
Odin thumped his chair. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, Saglund. Having a sense of it is vastly different than living it. Say this skirmish in Vithi blossoms into the bloody flower of war. Are you telling me that all the Einherjar stand ready?”
“I believe they do, Sigfather, despite the ongoing peace.”
He gritted his teeth. All this talk of peace and training. Einherjar were born in battle, tempered in blood.
“Hersir, you do remember how the Einherjar came to be, yes?”
“Of course, Sigfather.”
“How many warriors now join the Einherjar each year?”
“About three dozen, give or take.”
“That rivals the number I added to the original Einherjar during the entire First Jotunn War, which lasted nearly ten winters.”
“With respect, Sigfather, those who try to join the Einherjar are already among the very best warriors in Asgard. I take only the very best of those.”
“Becoming Einherjar isn’t about being the best,” he said, staring evenly at Saglund. “Training and practice cannot prepare anyone for that moment when they must choose to keep fighting, standing alone above the bodies of their fallen shieldmates, and holding off an enemy wild to exploit the opportunity. As you well know.”
During the Last War, Saglund had earned his place among the Einherjar by standing beside Baldr and holding the Old Bridge after Hodr had been blinded while he himself was badly wounded.
“The Einherjar are the spear’s blade; me, my sons—and my baresarks—at the very point,” he continued. “Yes, they kept my son at bay. And yes, maybe they are good with weapons and keeping formations. But do they have what it takes here?” He tapped his chest.
Saglund nodded immediately. “Sigfather, I ask that when time permits, you watch the Einherjar drill at any of the three compounds inside the walls. Or elsewhere. They will impress you, I promise.”
He hid a frown. Was Saglund oblivious to his point, willfully or otherwise? Either way, this wasn’t how he remembered the man. But the warrior before him was twenty winters older, grayer, and stouter. For himself, the time had passed like a pair of heartbeats to him—less, even, after eating Yggdrasil’s fruit.
The hall’s side door creaked. White-haired Fimafeng shuffled in.
“Even a well-kept sword will turn in the hand if it’s disused,” Odin said, his voice even. He thumped the arms of his chair and stood. “Hersir, you will prepare plans for the Einherjar to join the army on regular patrols of our border with Utgard. I will review them tomorrow.”
“Very good, Sigfather.” Saglund clearly understood that the meeting was over. “And if I may, please convey my best respects to the Almother.”
“Of course. Thank you, Hersir.”
Odin gestured for the waiting Fimafeng to approach as Saglund left.
“Your pardon, Alfather, but the envoy sent a runner with his deepest regrets. He will be late for his audience with you and the Almother.”
He turned. “Did you hear that, Frigg?”
“Of course. I heard all of it.” Frigg stepped out from the darkness behind the platform, screened by hangings from the hall’s main area. “What reason did he give, Fimafeng?”
“Only that his own daily communication with the Skrymir was delayed. He is waiting to make sure he has the most current information.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “Fimafeng, Hersir Saglund was...?”
“Your last obligation of the day, Almother. Until evening, of course.”
“So we have plenty of time to accommodate him,” Frigg said. “Please tell the envoy we excuse this imposition on our time and that we expect him to present himself when he does receive word from the Skrymir.”
“Yes, Almother.” Fimafeng bowed, took a step back, then made his slow way back to the side door.
When the door had closed, Odin turned to her. “You’re too lax with these Jotunn.”
She shrugged. “What would we have gained by making him come now? We still would’ve had to wait while he hurried here. When he arrived, he would have been annoyed and claimed that he couldn’t answer because he hadn’t spoken with the Skrymir. Which would further annoy us.” She smiled an overly bright smile. “And just think, we now have plenty of time to talk about that idiot who just left.”
“Fimafeng?” He gave her a teasing smile.
“Very funny. I meant your Einherjar hersir.” She settled into her chair.
“I know,” he said. Saglund had grown too confident in his role, evidently forgetting the Einherjar hersir served the Sigfather.
“You made him hersir what, two winters before you left? Without you here, he realized if he did whatever he wanted, no one could stop him—not completely, at least. I’ve made him stumble as much as I could.”
“This doesn’t sound like the man I promoted,” he said, sitting beside her.
Her dark-eyed gaze, warm though it was, seemed to suggest that the Gladsheim to which he’d returned was a great deal different now.
He rubbed his face and sighed. He did not want another argument. “All right, Frigg, your thoughts? On Saglund.”
“Remove him from command,” she said at once.
“Just like that, eh?” He smiled. “I am concerned about how the ranks have swelled, but I’m not sure that warrants his removal.”
“What use is a quiver of warped arrows?”
He looked at her sharply.
“Have you noticed how young most of the Einherjar are?”
He pursed his lips and thought back to the column of warriors he’d led to Vithi. “I’d assumed they were relatively young, based on what Gulfinn told me. The aktaumr of the column I led to Vithi were older. Experienced.”
“Yes, and most in their last winters of service, I’m sure,” she said. “Gulfinn told you about the testing the warriors go through to become Einherjar?”
He nodded. “He said that Saglund was recruiting from the army. What are you getting at?”
“That as of maybe twelve few winters ago, most new Einherjar are the same age as children fresh from service in their garrisons. In many cases, Saglund’s swelled the Einherjar’s ranks at the expense of the army.”
That’s not what Gulfinn had told him.
“Before you get upset, Gulfinn didn’t know. Most don’t. Except for Tyr and Ullr, of course. They told me.”
“So what are you telling me, Frigg? I’ve already decided that these new Einherjar don’t deserve the distinction.”
She shifted in her chair and leaned forward. “That’s the least of it. We’re looking at a generation of warriors—of Einherjar—who are personally loyal to Saglund, not to the Sigfather.”
He snorted. “That won’t last long.”
“Odin, Saglund’s established sixteen garrisons around Asgard, four within Gladsheim’s walls alone, with one hundred Einherjar per garrison—”
“That’s more than ten times larger than when I left.”
She thumped the arm of her chair. “And that’s not even counting all the support staff—cooks, grooms, blacksmiths, armorers and the rest. You see the problem.”
What he didn’t see was how this could have happened. “How did he grow the ranks so swiftly?”
She laughed. “It’s your fault, Odin.”
“What?”
“You gave the Einherjar hersir direct access to collected tariffs. Not only has trade with the Vanir and the Alvar continued to grow, but dozens of new towns have sprung up along the road to Ifington, along the Silfr, too, downstream and even upstream to the summer pastures near the Franangr. Trade with the Jotunn is also surprisingly strong.”
“But they have nothing of—t”
“Not true.” She raised a hand and began ticking off the key products. “Ivory and bone, pelts and leathers, gems...”
“And what goes into Utgard?”
“Mostly food and drink.”
He shook his head. “That is not good.”
“And here I thought Baldr had convinced you to give the Jotunn a chance,” she said with a faint smile.
“We can discuss that later. For now, let’s stick to the Einherjar.”
“All right.”
“So Saglund’s access to gold allowed him to swell the ranks and build all those garrisons.”
“His unrestricted access, yes. Obviously, I stopped it when I became aware of it, but by then he’d amassed quite the stockpile. In a way, I understand how it started. Without a war, the Einherjar ranks would dwindle—”
“That’s exactly what I intended,” he said. “The Einherjar were meant to exemplify the very best qualities of our warriors. Just knowing how to swing a sword and hold a shield isn’t the point.”
“I know that,” she said, “but you put an ambitious man in charge of a powerful organization. He made it bigger and, in his mind, better. I don’t think his intent was, or is, malicious. I just think it’s become more than it needs to be. Far more. I’ve hampered most of his plans, and now that you’re back, we can finish it.”
“And you’ve done what so far?”
She smiled. “I declared all land property of Gladsheim. All land, everywhere. Anyone who wants to use land for any reason—a new town, a road, a wall, an Einherjar garrison—must get my approval first. Or yours, of course. And then pay us.”
He couldn’t help but smile back. “Bold. Clever. How do you enforce it? Tyr and Ullr?”
“Yes. And Heimdall, when he’s sober. Your baresarks have helped, too, though only Ráta and Gulfinn are here in Gladsheim.”
“Even so, can I assume that Saglund’s still increased the number of Einherjar?”
“Yes, but it’s slowed. He can’t claim more recruits than he does already, since that would pit him directly against Tyr and Ullr. And he doesn’t want that.”
He glanced out into the shadowy hall, lit only by what sunlight streamed through the gap between the two roofs. Clearly, he had to rein in the Einherjar, and the Aesir needed to expand their borders. The solution was obvious. “So you heard me order Saglund to have the Einherjar join the army in patrolling our border with Utgard?”
“Yes.”
“Based on what you told me, I’ll place those Einherjar under the direct command of Tyr and Ullr.”
She sat back. “That won’t sit well with Saglund.”
“No, it won’t. But the Einherjar are mine. The sooner Saglund recalls that, the better. Beyond that, I’ll order some of the Einherjar garrisons closed down, and those warbands will be sent out into the wilderness from which I’ve just returned.”
“Under whose command?”
“You think they’re not loyal?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, Odin. But I think it makes sense to be selective about those we do send.”
An ill thought that was—disloyal Einherjar. “Agreed.”
“And you’ll replace Saglund?”
“Why bother? He won’t live forever.” He shrugged. “And I’d rather have him where I can see him.”
“Maybe, but as hersir, he could still drag his heels, take months to prepare or brief subordinates, hamper supplies and preparations—anything to delay. Probably in the expectation that you’re likely to soon leave Gladsheim again. He’ll just wait you out.”
He wagged a finger at her, trying to keep the gesture playful. “Now, now, let’s keep this friendly.”
She went along with it, answering with a wicked grin. “There is precedent.”
“Fair point. Barring me leading a warband into the wilds, I really don’t think it makes sense to remove Saglund. I hear what you’re saying, but I’ll keep an eye on him.”
"It’s not as easy as that. Believe me. We may keep ourselves young, but I think we miss how important the little things are. The lives of those around us go by so quickly.”
Now that was an interesting way to put it. And how did those they ruled see their rulers? We must seem as constant as rocks in a fast-flowing river. 

OUTRO
Well, folks, that was CHAPTER 43 of Kinsmen Die. I hope you enjoyed it. 

A bit of payoff in this chapter as Odin confronts the hersir — which just means “general,” basically — of the Einherjar. We get a little more detail on why Odin created the Einherjar and what it means to be one. And how Saglund turned the Einherjar into his own thing. And, soon, Odin and Frigg will speak with the Jotunn envoy about the attack on Hals.

The Einherjar in my series are living men and women who distinguished themselves in battle. In Norse myth, the Einherjar are dead warriors who are “chosen” by the valkyrie and brought to Valhol.

Both in my series and in myth, the Einherjar train all day and feast at night. The major difference is that mortals train without killing each other. Dead warriors train to death…and then they rise again, feast, and do it all over again.

If there’s one thing to keep in mind when listening, or reading, it’s that my Aesir, Vanir and Jotunn are not yet the beings we know about from Norse myth. Part of creating this series involved creating an arc for each of these characters, with my main assumption being that we know how they end up but we don’t know how they got there. That’s what I created.

Next week we’re back with Frigg as this conversation gets a little heated. Until then, if you have the time and inclination, please rate and/or review the podcast — that helps boost the show’s visibility. As does sharing it.

And if you’re so inclined, shoot me an email at mattbishopwrites@gmail.com.

I’d love to hear from you.
  
As always, I’m going to read from both the Bellows and Larrington translations of the Havamal, the sayings of the High One, Odin himself.

Bellows, Verse 43

To his friend a man a friend shall prove,
To him and the friend of his friend;
But never a man shall friendship make
With one of his foeman's friends.

Larrington, Verse 43
To his friend a man should be a friend and to his friend’s friend too;
but no man should be a friend
to the friend of his enemy.
 
No cows were caught or harmed during the recording of this episode.

Thanks for listening.