INTRO
 
Welcome to CHAPTER 69 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.

This week, we’re back with Frigg. In her last chapter, Frigg presided over a murder inquiry. A young man, Harald, was accused of raping and murdering his ex-wife, Bera. Frigg had presided over their divorce.

Harald’s brother-in-law, Klakki, had intervened too late in the grisly event. Klakki’s wife Yelena — who we met during the divorce — was present in the immediate aftermath of the Harald’s ugly deed and she also testified against him.

Klakki had been wounded by Harald and was taken to be healed by Frigg’s son Baldr. Frigg halted the trial proceedings and went to speak privately with Klakki to get his side of the story.

That’s where we find her now.

Chapter Sixty-Nine
Frigg
Frigg pulled back the cowl of her falcon-feather cloak and nodded to the warden standing outside the longhouse where Baldr treated the sick and injured. Beside her, Nanna wrung her hands.
“So, Nanna, are you ready for this?”
Nanna shrugged. “I suppose. You’re just getting the husband’s version, right? To check it against what his wife and the killer said?”
“Are you so sure Harald is a killer?”
“It seemed clear to me, Almother. He certainly had reason enough to want her dead.”
“You were also at the divorce with me. Did he seem like a killer then?”
“He struck his wife several times, and in public,” Nanna said. “That suggests he can be violent.”
So could Odin, though that wasn’t fair. The spirit within him had been in control when he’d attacked her. “I don’t dispute that. But murder? It certainly can happen—I’ve seen it—but I’m not entirely convinced Karl Harald is as guilty as he appears.”
“That’s not what the witnesses said.”
“No, it wasn’t. But tell me, Nanna, did anything at the questioning strike you as odd?”
To her credit, Nanna thought before replying. “The sequence of events seemed disjointed.”
“How so?”
“Well, if Harald left the way house when he said he did, he likely could have spent a long portion of the night alone with his former wife. The crime wasn’t discovered until well after midnight.”
“True, and a good point. But there’s more, too. First, Harald was struck a heavy blow above his forehead.” She tapped a spot above her right brow in her hairline. “When the wardens took him from the hall, I had Gná look, as well. She said the back of his head had dried and crusted blood, which you’d expect if he was struck by surprise from behind.”
“Maybe he was hit first from behind but not hard enough? And when he got up, he was hit in the face. Or the wardens hit him at some point.”
“Maybe, but it could have happened the other way around, too. He entered the longhouse, like he said, got hit, spun around, and then was knocked out by a blow to the back of the head. The wardens said the club had hair and blood on it.”
“But that would suggest that Karl Yelena and her husband were lying about something. Why would they do that?”
Frigg spread her hands. “I don’t know. But that’s why we’re here. I’m hoping the husband, Klakki, will let something slip.”

***

Frigg settled into a chair a long arm’s length from the bed where Yelena’s husband, Klakki, lay propped up. His side was bandaged and his face was very pale and drawn. Sweat beaded his brow, his eyes darted from her to Nanna to the warden in the shadows by the door and back again. He wiped sweat from his upper lip and wiped it on the blanket covering him. Baldr assured her that he was well enough to answer questions, yet something was clearly not right with Klakki.

She’d met many lawbreakers over the past hundred winters and had sat in sole judgment of thirty-one in the past twenty winters alone—thirty-two, including Harald. That wasn’t even counting the judgments she watched her father mete out when she was a child.
This man stank of guilt and, if she wasn’t mistaken, fear. But of what? She herself was hardly intimidating, but she could have him killed. Or worse.
“My son says you’re recovering quickly, Klakki,” she said, offering a warm smile. “Before we begin, can I get you anything?”
“Begin?” His eyes darted from her to the door and back again.
 “I wanted to ask you about what happened last night.”
“But without anyone else here to speak for me?”
“Do you need someone to speak for you?”
Klakki coughed and glanced sideways at Nanna who gave a comforting smile. “No, Almother, of course not. But I want my wife here. Because, you know, she was there, too.”
“But she said you ran ahead because of her condition?”
“Her what?” His eyes flicked toward the door. He wiped the sweat from his lip.
“Your wife’s pregnant,” Frigg said, letting a hint of amusement waft into her voice.
“Oh, yes, that. Of course,” he said with a weak laugh.
“So did you get to Karl Harald’s house first?” she asked again.
“Yes, Almother, I did.”
“Good. That’s what I’m interested in. You’re the only one who saw Harald raping Bera.”
He flinched. “My wife said that?”
Now that was interesting. Frigg leaned back in her chair, thumb tapping on its arm. “Not directly, but she implied it, saying you got there before her because she was moving so slowly.”
“But Bera’s house is right next to ours. Yelena was right behind me. I wasn’t by myself for very long.” He flashed a quick smile.
Frigg frowned slightly. “I admit to some confusion, then. You’re saying she was with you the entire time?”
“Can you send for her, please? If she was here, we could clear this up right away.”
“Was Harald raping Bera when you walked in? Or had he finished and was killing her?”
Klakki’s face went even paler than it was; sweat dripped down his temples. He hunched in on himself. “Look, I tried to stop him. I did. And I took this”—he leaned to his right, presenting his wounded side—“when I was trying to get him off her.”
“I understand that—and thank you for it—but I’m trying to better understand what actually happened in that house from the only person who was there besides the man who did the deed.”
“My wife told you what happened.”
“What she saw, yes. But she said you got into the house first and implied you were there for a short time by yourself, aside from Harald and your dead sister-in-law. You seem to be saying that’s not accurate, that your wife was there the entire time.”
“Not the entire time, but she couldn’t have been more than a few steps behind me.”
She wasn’t getting anywhere with these questions. Still, she had the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. He was too uneasy, too defensive, too insistent on having his wife present. What man wanted his wife present to speak for him—especially one who’d subdued a rapist and murderer. He didn’t seem proud of his actions. Perhaps he was ashamed that he hadn’t stopped Harald? Either way, she needed a different tack.
“Did Harald and his wife fight often?” she asked.
“What?”
“When they were married, did they fight often? Yelling, screaming, hitting, that kind of thing.”
“I don’t know. No more than any other who’s newly married, I guess.”
“But with your houses so close, you probably would’ve heard them, right?”
“The houses aren’t that close.”
He had just said their houses were next to one another. “But you and your wife said you heard Harald’s wife screaming?”
“We told you, the door was open. I’m sure that’s why we heard it.”
“Then why didn’t anyone else hear the screaming?”
New sweat leaped to Klakki’s brow. “I’m not lying, Almother.”
“I didn’t say you were, Karl Klakki. I’m just curious as to why, if the screams were so loud, none of your neighbors heard them.”
He shrugged and glanced at Nanna, then at the door and back at her, all in a heartbeat’s time. “It was late. They were probably all asleep.”
“Of course,” she said. “I’m sure that’s it. But the open door still confuses me, since it seems unlikely that a man intent on having it out with his former wife would leave the door open. Wouldn’t he have made sure it was closed, expecting that shouting would be involved?”
“He was drunk. Maybe he forgot.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“That’s quite a thing to forget, not closing the door before an argument, or worse, starts.”
“I don’t understand why I’m being questioned, Almother. I caught him. I wish I’d gotten there sooner, but I didn’t.”
And there it finally was, the bit of spine she’d expected. “That’s why I asked what was happening when you ran into their house. Was Bera still alive?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get a good look at her. And what does it matter? She’s dead now.”
It mattered because there was something not right here. “To get Harald off your sister’s wife, what did you do?”
“I don’t really remember. You know how fights can be.”
She nodded. “Indeed I do. But surely you remember some of it. Did you grab him by the shoulders or hit him or maybe throw yourself against him?”
Klakki’s eyes flickered toward the door. “Could you send for my wife, please? She was just steps behind me. I’m sure she could say exactly what happened.”
“When my servant arrives, I’ll send her to fetch your wife.” But Gná wouldn’t arrive until she heard Frigg specifically tell her to step into the house. And that was assuming Gná had finished what she’d been asked to do.
“What about the warden outside?” Klakki asked. “He could get her, right?”
Frigg stood abruptly. “Who rules here in Gladsheim, Klakki?”
He seemed to shrink into himself. “You do, Almother.”
“I’ve been lenient with you because you’ve taken a wound in stopping a lawbreaker. But you’re not answering my questions, and that’s not only making me curious, but it makes me think I’ve been lied to. Have I been lied to, Klakki?”
“Aren’t I allowed to have someone speak for me, Almother?”
She let her frown deepen. “Are you guilty of something? You’re the hero here, right? You caught him, you and your wife. He’ll hang because of you.”
“Hang?” Some emotion flickered too quickly across his face for her to identify.
She forced a tight smile, the icy kind her husband used often enough. “That’s the punishment for murder. If I could, I’d hang him a second time for the rape. It happens often enough, but rarely do we have a chance to make an example of them. Perhaps a blood eagle, then. Those always seem to calm the waters for a while.”
Klakki’s gaze dropped like a stone to the floor.
“Look at me, Klakki.”
He gave no sign that he heard. He pawed at the side of his head, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and rocked slightly back and forth.
She glanced at Nanna, who was resting her arm in the crook of her elbow, one hand cupping her chin. Frigg gestured slightly toward the man.
Nanna looked questioningly at her, so Frigg repeated the gesture. Comprehension dawned on Nanna’s face.
Nanna edged forward in her chair and touched the man’s arm. In a low, gentle voice, she said, “Please tell us what happened, Klakki. We’re only after justice, we’re not looking for you—”
Klakki’s eyes snapped open and, in an urgent voice pitched far too high, said, “You have to protect me from her, please. You can do that, right?”
“Of course, we can, Klakki,” Nanna said in tones she might use to comfort a child. “You’re safe here. The warden’s right outside—”
His laugh held a tone of hysteria. “The warden? After what she did to Bera? She could tear him apart if she wanted.”
Klakki’s voice dropped to a whisper. He banged the side of his head with his unbandaged hand. “She’s a seidkonur. She cast her net over me and made me do things I didn’t want to.”
Frigg frowned. There were any number of minor witch-women selling charms and cures, some of which might even work. Genuine witch-women who commanded seidr like Freyja and Odin could were rare among the Aesir.
“Like murder Bera?” she said.
Klakki’s surprise was nearly comical. “No, Almother, by Aegir, I swear I didn’t. It was Ye—” he coughed “—her, I mean. It had to be.”
“You saw your wife kill her sister?” Nanna asked, sounding nearly as surprised as Klakki had.
Klakki’s mouth snapped shut. His gaze flickered to the door and back again.
“She can’t reach you here,” Frigg said.
“What if she’s listening? She can do things. She knows things. Things she shouldn’t.”
She needed to put his fear to rest, even if it meant a lie. “Hear me, Klakki. The Alfather wove charms into the very beams of this house. No mere seidkonur can pierce them.”
“Really?”
She ignored Nanna’s surprised expression. “Absolutely. Now please, tell me what you know.”

***

Klakki set the cup of wine aside and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked calmer, but his eyes were still a little too round, like a spooked horse. He glanced nervously up at Frigg, ducked his head in an odd sort of bow, and then looked at Nanna.
Frigg smiled at him as if she were soothing a wounded man even as she edged out of the overlapping circles of wavering yellow light by the bed. Klakki had responded better to Nanna’s gentleness than her own impatience.
He spoke after a long exhale. “I remember meeting her last Midwinter. You know how it is. One thing led to another, and by summer we were married—Midwinter to Midsummer. I remember joking about it, but even those memories are hazy.”
“Just tell us what you do remember, even if doesn’t seem to make sense,” Nanna said.
Klakki rubbed his temples and grimaced. “I remember going with her…Yelena…to her sister’s house to meet her parents. But then I also vaguely remember her telling me last Midwinter that she was an orphan. When we walked into her family’s house, the folk sitting around the fire looked shocked. Harald stood and reached for his knife, but my wife,”—Klakki shuddered—“lifted her hand. And then that’s it. That’s all I remember.”
“Until now?” Nanna asked.
He shook his head. “There’s other bits and pieces. I remember being on a drive with Harald and when I got back, Yelena had picked up a bag of...” He closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly, thinking hard. “It’s odd. I remember most of the cattle drive with Harald, but as soon as I set eyes on Yelena, the memories jumble and fade. Everything’s broken up like the pieces of a shattered cup.”
Nanna continued her soothing tone. “That’s all right. If they’re clear enough, describe those pieces. With enough of them, we may put that cup back together. And I know the Almother will be grateful for anything you do remember. Even the smallest piece may help.”
But none of this seemed at all related to Bera’s murder. Nanna had the man talking, but she needed to focus him on the relevant events, not his life story.
Klakki nodded. “I’m not sure when it happened. During the day, I think, because the door was open. We were sitting around the fire, eating and talking like family does. Then Yelena, her belly big like the baby was near, stepped in. I’m not even sure when I got her with child. I don’t remember any of that—not finding out or her being sick or anything.”
He reached nervously for another sip of wine. “Another time, we were in the market. Evening had just fallen. Still enough light to see by, though. We passed through the old quarter where the houses are tight together. She made me turn around and watch the street while she did something.”
His face twisted as he tried to remember.
“Do you know what she was doing?” Nanna asked.
Klakki shook his head, eyes squeezed shut. “There were voices. Deep. Two or three, maybe. I wanted to turn around—thought she was in trouble—but I couldn’t. Literally couldn’t move.”
“Did you hear what they were saying? Or maybe they passed by—”
“No, none of that. Just the deep, hushed voices. Some clinking, too, I think. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.” Nanna patted his arm. “Maybe your memories will come back the more you rest.”
“More are coming back just being away from her,” he said with a weak grin. “But I do remember what happened after that. I think it was the same night, but I’m not entirely sure.”
He licked his lips and looked down at the floor, thinking hard.
Frigg took the opportunity to catch Nanna’s attention. She made a rolling motion with one hand and mouthed, “The murder. Get him talking about the murder.”
Nanna nodded—and smiled reassuringly at Klakki when he looked up at her.
“It was a hot, moonless night,” he began. “I remember how much I was sweating. I was carrying a bag that clinked with every step. We were going slow, making sure not to be seen, which was unlikely because it was late.”
She suppressed a sigh. This had nothing to do with the murder.
“Was it the same sound you’d heard when your wife spoke with those men?” Nanna asked.
“Maybe?” His voice rose slightly.
“Don’t worry about that now,” Nanna said. “Do you remember where you were going?”
His gaze flickered back up to Frigg, then back to Nanna. “We went into Idunn’s Grove.”
Frigg’s heart skipped a beat. All her impatience drained away. There was no law against entering the grove, but to do so stealthily at night? That was suspicious. Or was she suspicious just because of what she and Odin had hidden there?
“We stopped at a tree. I don’t remember anything else except Yelena smiling at me, singing softly. My stomach was twisting like I’d drunk too much.”
Frigg came off the wall, swamping the light. “Which tree was it? What did it look like?”
He shrank back into the bed. “I... I don’t know. It was just a—wait, an oak, I think. Yes, it was an oak tree.”
An icy hand gripped her around the throat. She knew what he was—
“And it had mistletoe in it, high up, and she...”
The flames of a vision roared to life above Klakki’s head. This time, she willed the flames to burn higher. She needed to see. Maybe they’d show her a...
... man crouched behind a shield wall, spear in hand, the other arm braced against the crumpling, headless body of a warrior right in front of him. Even as he drew back his own spear to throw, another spear caught him in the chest and flung him back, coughing blood. A Jotunn warrior stomped a boot onto Klakki’s side and yanked the spear free.
“No,” she murmured.
Seeing this man’s death was useless. She needed to see where he’d been and what he’d done and who his wife had met in the dark. She tried to keep the vision flames alight, but they flickered and withdrew.
Clarity rushed back along with the warm yellows painting the longhouse’s interior. She found herself leaning against one of the columns. Klakki wore a horrified look, while Nanna’s was creased with concern.
She pushed herself off the column and tugged at the hems of her sleeves. “I’m fine. But Klakki, I need to know more. What else happened at the tree?”
Like a fish breathing air, he gaped at her, eyes comically wide. He glanced at Nanna, who gave a quick, encouraging nod.
“Well, I’m not sure. Yelena stopped singing. She told me to drop the bag and catch what she dropped.”
Frigg ignored the cold sweat that had gathered on her lip and brow. A heavy bag that clinked? Drop what she caught? Staring up at mistletoe? The picture was drawn for her. This man and the witch who’d trapped him were the ones who’d cut her son’s mistletoe.
But she asked anyway. “Do you remember anything else?”
“No, Almother. Just a few fragments: walking back, how heavy the bag was, collapsing into my bed.”
“And the bag, where did it end up?”
“I don’t know, Almother. Between then and now, there’s just more fragments. Staring at a blank wall while Yelena sang. She might have been sitting on the floor naked. I remember that because her belly was flat.” His face twisted with worry. “Is any of this helpful, Almother? I’ll do whatever I can to make up for whatever I did.”
“Whatever you did, it was not by your own choice,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm while a shriek scrabbled at the back of her throat. “Nanna, would you keep Klakki company? I need to speak with Gná.”
“Of course, Almother,” Nanna said, smiling past the confusion in her own eyes.
That confusion would be stark fear if Nanna knew exactly how important these bits of memory were. She had just uncovered the plot against Baldr.

***

Outside, the moon had dipped low. The cold night air slapped Frigg hard in the face, banishing the house’s warmth.
A pair of wardens stood next to a pair of witchstoves. Gná rose and the wardens saluted even as Frigg gestured for Gná to join her a few paces away.
When they were alone, Frigg leaned in close and said, “Just before dawn, take a warden with you and go to the sister’s house. Tell her that her husband woke, confirmed everything she said, asked for her, and then passed out. Jarl Baldr said he’d be fine and that she may see him at midday tomorrow. Instruct her to be at the Lower Hall at dawn. That’s when I’ll pronounce sentence against Harald. Tell her that exactly.”
“Yes, Almother,” Gná said with a quick nod.
Frigg gripped her arm. “Say nothing else to the sister. Nothing. This is extremely important, Gná—and make sure the warden stays beside you. Give the message, and then leave. From there, fetch Karl Harald from the stocks and bring him to the Lower Hall. But come through the back entrance. We will meet you there.”
“What’s all this about, Almother?”
With a quick shake of her head, Frigg gave Gná a reassuring smile. “It’s best I just tell you when we meet at the Lower Hall. Oh, and Gná, once you’ve brought Harald to the hall, find Gulfinn and Ráta. I don’t care if they haven’t found Heimdall yet. I’m going to need them.”

OUTRO
Well, folks, that was CHAPTER 69 of Kinsmen Die. I hope you enjoyed it.

It appears that Klakki and his wife Yelena — who is a witch — were directly involved in cutting out the heart of Baldr’s mistletoe. Frigg is shocked by this discovery and sets events into motion so that she can learn more.

Klakki specifically said that Yelena is a seidkonur — that’s a compound word meaning, basically, “woman who uses seidr.” I had Frigg question Klakki’s assertion since, in her experience, an actual seidkonur is someone like Freyja who is truly powerful and can do many fantastic things with seidr. As can Odin.

I used Frigg’s questioning to imply a hierarchy of magical ability in this world I created. There are other examples of similar hierarchies scattered throughout this book and the next.

Next week, we’re back with Hodr.

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.
  
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 69
All wretched is no man, though never so sick;
Some from their sons have joy,
Some win it from kinsmen, and some from their wealth,
And some from worthy works.

Larrington, Verse 69
No man is completely wretched, even if he has bad luck; one man is blessed with sons,
another with kinsmen, another has enough money, another feels good from his deeds.

Thanks for listening.