INTRO
 
Welcome to CHAPTER 23 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. Every TEN chapters, or so, I recap the key plot points and provide some insight into the myths I’ve referenced in the book as well as some of the creative choices I’ve made along the way.

Before we roll into Chapter 23, in which we’re back with Frigg, here’s a quick summary of what’s gone before.

The Jotunn attacked the town of Hals which is west of Gladsheim. Vidar was on hand to deal with the trouble…and then proceeded to get himself into deeper trouble.

Baldr, the son of Frigg and Odin, is having terrible dreams which render him corpse-like come morning. Frigg summoned her husband Odin back from his wanderings to figure out what was going on. And, Frigg’s visions of the future have returned — she’s not liking what she sees.

No sooner was he back home than Odin rode back out to help his son Vidar repel the Jotunn. Or so he thought. When he arrived, he had to save Vidar from the spirit — the disir — which had possessed him.

Hodr Odinsson is serving drinks in a pub and talking to merchants. It’s not clear what’s going on there but I promise clarity will gallop in.

Vafthrudnir, high shaman of the Jotunn, met with the Skrymir, high chief of the Jotunn, and his childhood. They have a nefarious plot concocted which involves Loki and stealing supplies from the Aesir.

Finally, we met Loki, his second wife Sigyn, and their two sons, Vali and Narfi. We don’t know what they’re up to, but it does not involve fiery hot magma or, sadly, sharks with frickin lasers. 

And on that note, we now join Frigg, the Almother of Gladsheim.

Let’s do this.

Chapter Twenty-Three
Frigg
This morning, it was a divorce, one that had turned nasty as they too often did—at least in her experience after presiding over dozens. And so Frigg sat in the Lower Hall, Nanna beside her, listening to the wide-eyed, disheveled man gesticulating in front of her chair. He was big, heavy in the shoulders, with the weather-beaten look of those who spent their days and nights outside. She’d asked him to tell his story, how he’d come to beat his wife so badly.
The man, Harald, looked more shocked than anything else, saying how he couldn’t have—wouldn’t have. He’d known his wife, Bera, wanted a divorce because he was gone all the time—he was a drover—and because he’d struck her once. In public. Yes, he sometimes drank too much, but he loved her. He did. He thought they were working it out, that everything was getting better, but he’d returned the prior night to learn she’d gone ahead with the divorce after all.
“I’d stopped by the hall before coming home, Almother. I had a few cups with friends and then come home to find her packing. I knew what she was doing, and something broke inside me—but to beat her? By Aegir, Almother, I wouldn’t have.”
A likely story. It made more sense that he’d returned home, realized that this Bera was leaving him, and then taken his rage out on her.
Frigg regarded Harald’s wife. She was blond, slight, and pale-skinned but not washed-out like the pregnant woman standing protectively on her left. They looked similar enough to be sisters. Beside the pregnant woman stood a tall man, lean and dark of hair and beard. And beside him was an older couple, jaws slack and eyes glazed as if they couldn’t believe this was happening to their daughter.
Bera herself stood silently, one arm in a sling. She had a huge bruise purpling one cheek and swollen, split lips. Judging by her smoldering dark eyes and white-knuckled, clenched fists, she would fight back the next time. Not that there would be a next time.
It was clear to Frigg that as far as Bera was concerned, this divorce was final.
She raised a hand and indicated Bera to Harald. “How do you explain her face and arm, then?”
His dark blue eyes wide and wild, Harald glanced at his former wife and stepped toward her, hands outstretched.
Beside her, Nanna flinched back in her chair. Frigg frowned slightly—it didn’t look threatening to her—but before she could lift a finger, Ráta had slid forward. Lean, tattooed arms corded with muscle unfolded from behind her back.
The drover’s advance faltered.
Frigg raised a hand; the gesture quieted the low rumble of the witnesses. “Answer me, Harald.”
Harald faltered, eyes flitting from Frigg to the baresark and back again. He shrugged. “I can’t explain it, Almother.”
As she thought. She beckoned to the wife. “Bera, please approach. Before us all, give your reasons for wanting this divorce.”
“Yes, Almother,” Bera said in a voice like fresh honey. She took three steps forward, turned toward the crowd of witnesses, and spoke. “Harald and I were married for three winters; it would’ve been four this Midwinter. He’s always been jealous—angry when I spoke with men of any age at the market or in the trade shops. Just buying simple things and smiling in thanks would earn me a slap if he saw it. And he’s slapped plenty before, but always in private, and never where the bruises would show.”
Frigg couldn’t tell if the mutterings from the crowd expressed agreement or outrage. Violence between spouses or among family members was uncommon, but it happened, particularly in the winter months when there was less to occupy folk.
“Just before he left on his last run south,” Bera continued, “I met a childhood friend in the lower market who’d just returned from service in the army. Harald saw it and, later, accused me of having an affair with him. I denied it and explained what had happened. It didn’t matter. He still beat me, but this time in public. Many others saw him do it.”
Now the crowd’s murmurs sounded more like agreement, so perhaps others had truly seen it. Frigg glanced at Harald, but he just stood there, head hanging, eyes squeezed shut. No one stood beside him. Was this shame, then? Acceptance? Or was he just acting like a man who’d never grow so angry that he’d beat his wife where others could see? If he ever did, by some wicked cut of the Norns’ chisels, then maybe his shame would look just like this.
Aegir knew she’d seen enough of these divorces to know when a man was lying, but Harald seemed genuine. If this was an act, then he was as good as Loki.
“I told him then I would divorce him. He just laughed and said I didn’t dare—but I do dare.” She advanced on Harald, her good hand raised to strike him.
Frigg motioned with her chin, and Ráta unhurriedly caught Bera by the wrist and around the waist. The woman struggled, but Ráta lifted her off the ground and set her back down like she might an unruly child.
Low laughter came from the crowd, along with calls of “that’s right, get him, girl.” Ráta swept her eyes across the crowd, cutting the din by unspoken threat.
Bera’s chest heaved and her cheeks were red. Her pregnant sister stood close, rubbing her back and whispering in her ear. Frigg happened to catch the sister’s gaze, and she suppressed a shudder at the black look in those pale eyes. A hard woman, it seemed, though the parents, frail, white-haired, clung to each other and seemed more befuddled than anything else. Only the sister’s husband appeared wholly present, and even he chewed on his lower lip while the fingers of one hand fidgeted at his belt.
“So that’s why I want this divorce—why I declare myself divorced from Harald,” Bera shouted, her voice cutting through the crowd’s dull noise.
Frigg sat forward in her seat. “And your divorce is witnessed, Bera. You’ve already announced it before friends and family at your home?”
“Yes, Almother,” Bera said with a quick nod.
Frigg turned to the husband, keeping her tone neutral. “And what do you contest about this, Harald? Every woman has the right, particularly under these circumstances, to demand a divorce.”
Voice husky, he met her gaze. “Nothing, Almother. Though I still say I couldn’t have beaten her. I’ve struck her, yes, to my shame. But not this.”
He’d admitted to being a drunkard and too free with his fists. If he was honest in that, then why lie now? From the humiliation of being caught out? Bera was quite certain that the marriage had been unhappy, and she’d clearly been beaten. “Her sister and her husband witnessed you attacking her, Harald. They stopped you from doing worse.”
His shoulders slumped and he shrugged again, looking down at his feet. “I know, Almother. I don’t understand. I’ve no memory of it—no memory at all until I came to myself, shackled and under guard.”
Frigg glanced at Nanna, taking in the younger woman’s sad expression. She had much to learn before she could preside in the hall like this. “Perhaps it was the amount of beer you drank that clouds your memory, Harald?”
He shrugged again. “I didn’t think I’d had that much, Almother.”
“Were it not witnessed—both last night’s beating and the public one you gave Bera weeks ago—I’d investigate further, but you understand the position you’re in, yes?”
Harald nodded, met her gaze for one more miserable moment, then looked down again. “I do, Almother. I can’t deny any of it, not my jealousy nor striking my wife—former wife now. I just don’t remember doing it last night.” He shrugged again. “I’ll accept whatever judgment you set.”
Despite herself, Frigg felt sorry for him. He still wasn’t acting like the wife-beaters she’d judged before. No anger at being shamed here, no arrogance. No hostility toward her. Just apparently honest confusion, guilt and, seemingly, regret. Were it not for the severity of the beating, the history of it, and the unanimity of those speaking against him, she’d be inclined to leniency.
She looked at Bera. “You’ve demanded most of his property. That’s more than either custom or law requires of him—it’s more, even, than the dowry your parents gave. Why do you ask for so much?”
Bera lifted her broken arm and then gestured toward her other injuries. “For these. And for the shame.”
“And he feels no shame?” Frigg said, gesturing with her chin toward Harald. “It will be a long time before he’s able to find another wife. If ever. No doubt there are a dozen in this hall who’ll seek your hand, fierce as you’ve proven it. You won’t be alone long.”
That earned a muted chuckle from the crowd. Over too many winters of sitting in public judgment over divorces and crimes, she had discovered that if she could sway the crowd, she could often pressure either party into accepting the fairness of her decision.
She doubted that would be the case this time. Alone, this woman might be swayed into accepting a judgment less severe than what she demanded. But with the black glint in her sister’s pale blue eyes and her dogged whispers, it seemed unlikely. Even so, awarding her most of what her former husband had would be too much, and unwarranted even by his actions. Such a harsh judgement might drive the man to banditry.
Bera spoke again, but Frigg detected a waver in her voice despite the whisperings of her witch of a sister. “With respect, Almother, my sister and I will settle for half, but no less.”
Frigg frowned and leaned back in her seat. My sister and I? Nanna’s face plainly showed her concentration, as if she were bent over jewelry, fashioning some intricate design. It didn’t help that nearly everyone present had been babies—children, at least—when Odin had left Gladsheim. None of them had even been born when she had ridden into Gladsheim as his bride. She had seen and pronounced more judgments than anyone here. She knew fairness from naked greed.
She stood, making every line of her body and face radiate disapproval. She knew the trick of becoming the Almother rather than simply being the woman in the chair.
Harald dared a glance, saw her face, and flinched away, clearly expecting the worst. Bera seemed to wilt. But curiously, the pregnant sister didn’t flinch. She stood straight, a touch of hatred in her eyes.
“I am the Almother, Frigg, and I rule in Gladsheim. Hear my judgment. Bera will receive one-third of Karl Harald’s property: fourteen silver total, as assessed by my stewards. She will also receive all possessions she can reasonably claim as her own and the house which they had shared. This is consistent with long custom. If any here disagree, speak now.”
Her tone made it clear that no one had better say anything. And if her tone didn’t drive the point home, then maybe Ráta, with her arms again crossed over her chest, blue tattoos evident, did.
No one spoke as Frigg ran her gaze over the crowd. Bera looked relieved; her sister looked as baleful as before; Harald was still broken, as well he might be. Her judgment had been severe, but not so much so that he’d turn to thievery to meet his debt.
“Very well. Since none have spoken, my judgment is final. Thank you all for bearing witness.” She remained standing until the folk began shuffling toward the doors at the hall’s opposite end.
She sat and beckoned Harald closer. “Are you able to settle the fourteen silver now?”
“No, Almother. I have two silver to my name. All the rest is invested in my business.”
“And your trade earns what each month...” she asked turning toward Gná.
“Five silver,” Gná answered at once.
“Yes, about that, Almother,” Harald said without hesitation. “I clear about two silver, Almother, maybe more if the drive’s done sooner.”
Frigg glanced at Gná, who’d only now stepped forward from her place off to one side of the platform. She nodded once, confirming the numbers.
Frigg tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. “All right, here’s my decision. You have two choices. Gladsheim’s coffers will pay the sum in full today to Bera. Harald, you will then repay Gladsheim at the rate of one silver, three copper, until the entirety is repaid. Or you will pay that same amount, one silver, three copper, directly to Bera until the entire judgment is made good. My stewards will keep track.”
He spoke first, without even a glance at Bera. “Almother, if it’s all the same to my former wife, I’d prefer her to receive the entire payment now. I’ll work hard to repay Gladsheim as swiftly as possible.”
“Well said, Harald,” Frigg said. “I assume you have no objections, Bera?”
Bera shook her head. The look in her pregnant sister’s eyes was still wicked. Why such malice?
Frigg had never seen the woman before, nor would the coming judgment affect her except perhaps by reducing whatever amount of silver she could ultimately win from her sister. Maybe that was enough.
“Very well. Speak with Gná; she will disburse the funds. Harald, please step aside and wait. After your former wife has finished, Gná will instruct you where to go each month to repay your debt to Gladsheim.”
And while you do that, poor Harald, I will sit here and, alone, dig deep to pay the price that Odin left me with.

OUTRO
Well, folks, that was CHAPTER 23 of Kinsmen Die. I hope you enjoyed it.

We were back with Frigg as she sat in judgement over a divorce. That’s probably not what you expected to hear about in a fantasy novel but, it will all come together.

Please take a few moments and rate and/or review the podcast — that provides valuable feedback for me and 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 the Havamal, sayings of the High One, Odin himself.

I’m reading from both the Bellows and the Larrington translations.

This verse happens to be one of my favorites — it’s just good advice about the value of worrying.

Bellows, Verse 23

The witless man is awake all night,
Thinking of many things;
Care-worn he is when the morning comes,
And his woe is just as it was.


Larrington, Verse 23

The stupid man stays awake all night and worries about everything;
he’s tired out when the morning comes and all’s just as bad as it was.


Thanks for listening.