The Half-Drowned King: A fascinating tale of revenge and freedom

The Half-Drowned King by Linnea Hartsuyker

The Half-Drowned King (2017), Linnea Hartsuyker’s debut novel, is a fascinating glimpse into a long-ago time, when Scandinavian warriors took their dragon-boats as far south as Constantinople or west to Ireland, trading with and terrorizing the locals, depending on regional treaties and individual temperaments. By necessity, this accounting of events leading up to the coronation of King Harald Fairhair is largely fictionalized, but as most sagas and poems about his life were compiled a few centuries after his death — rather like King Arthur of Britain — their own historical accuracy should be taken with a pinch of salt and enjoyed for their entertainment value.

Set roughly in the late 9^th century, The Half-Drowned King focuses on three individuals whose lives and fates are inextricably bound, and whose actions will affect Harald’s rise to power in unexpected ways. Ragnvald Eysteinsson is on his way home from a successful raid in Ireland when he is attacked by the convoy’s leader, Solvi Hunthiofsson, and left to drown. A kind fisherman spares him, however, and Ragnvald is filled with desire for revenge against Solvi and any who might have profited from this deed, including his own stepfather. To this end, he makes a series of alliances that eventually bring him to the attention of a teenager named Harald, who is rumored to have the gods’ own favor in his quest to unite the lesser kingdoms of Norway. Harald is a brash young man, his head filled with his mother’s prophecies of greatness and his uncle’s battle tactics, but he’s wise enough to seek the counsel of other men and knows how to inspire loyalty in his followers.

Svanhild, Ragnvald’s younger sister, dreams of freedom and distant shores, but appears to have no options beyond what her cruel stepfather deems advantageous for himself; when an opportunity is presented, her decision puts her at odds with both her beloved brother and his most hated enemy. Solvi himself is the only son of a sea king, a man who gains the majority of his wealth and power from raids rather than fields, and gradually finds himself torn between his lust for adventure and his rightful duties to the people who owe him fealty. As their storylines diverge, merge, and diverge again, Hartsuyker allows ample room for development and introspection, creating fascinating people whose struggles and choices are captivating even when they seem self-defeating.

Ragnvald and his fellows accept as fact the notion that the supernatural and mundane live hand in glove; dreams and visions are taken very seriously, and it is commonly believed that the gods and otherworldly creatures like hulda and draugr walk among men. Sorceresses have the power to foresee the future or cast spells upon the dead to make them walk again. A person’s wyrd, their fate, is bound up in whether the gods favor them or wish them ill. While some warriors might scoff at childish fears of dead men who prowl through the night, that doesn’t stop them from making sacrifices to Odin or flinging gold into the sea in an attempt to stave off the goddess Ran’s clutches. Hartsuyker brings these elements and many more to life in The Half-Drowned King, providing a detailed look at the everyday domestic lives of her characters in addition to their glorious battles and diplomatic struggles, putting what must have been extensive research to excellent use.

The Half-Drowned King is a little lighter on the kennings and word-play than Norse saga enthusiasts might be hoping for: one king calls his men “[m]y war serpents, my treasure hands,” another names “our new sword hands, our new raven feeders,” and a third king is referred to as a “generous ring giver,” all of which are expected appellations. I would have liked to see a few more examples of “swan-roads,” “sea steeds,” or “blood-worms” thrown in for good measure, to further enrich the text and help readers immerse themselves in the language and traditions of these people. Hartsuyker also streamlines person- and place-names — to borrow her own example, “Solvi rather than Sölvi,” — which will undoubtedly be an easier transition for novices, but may disappoint readers looking for strict authenticity.

By focusing her efforts on people who worked to aid or thwart Harald Fairhair, rather than retelling yet another Chosen One tale, Hartsuyker is able to create a rich and complex story of love and betrayal. Though a quick Internet search might tell you how it all ultimately is said to have ended, I’d recommend that readers wait, and enjoy the story as it unfolds. The Half-Drowned King is the first volume in a planned trilogy, and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how eagerly I’m looking forward to the next book. Highly recommended.