One of the crewmen spoke up. There followed an exchange between a few of them in their rasping tongue until suddenly Ramedios threw back his head and started laughing.

‘O Miklagard eínai to Vyzántio.’

‘Huh?’

‘By—zan—tium,’ the captain bellowed in his face, and his crew laughed with him. He held out his hand. Uncertainly, Erlan took it. ‘Vínur,’ said the captain.

‘Sounds like vinr,’ muttered Leikr.

Friend.

CHAPTER SIX

‘Who did this to you?’ Gerutha gently swabbed a linen cloth at the cut on Lilla’s swollen temple.

She winced, shying away from the pressure. The blood could be wiped away in a moment. The swelling would last days, the pain below even longer. ‘Who do you think?’ Perhaps the shame of it could never be erased.

Gerutha’s eyes fell away. She shook her head. ‘There’s only one man would dare.’

‘Yes.’

‘And did he. . . did he do more than strike you?’

Lilla said nothing. The two women looked at each other. There was too much understanding between them to speak of such things aloud.

Gerutha grimaced, dipping the cloth in the bowl and wringing it out as if it were the man’s neck. ‘Then he deserves death.’

‘Yes. He does.’ Maybe it was the shock of it. Lilla had known other women be raped. Had pitied them, seen their humiliation stamped on their faces. But she didn’t pity herself, she didn’t feel humiliated. She felt only a granite-hard rage. ‘He will pay for it. One day.’

‘What does he mean to do?’

‘Take the kingdom for himself.’ She had little doubt of that.

‘You must stop him.’

‘With what?’ she said in disgust.

Gerutha’s brow clenched. ‘It’s not safe for you here.’

‘Where else have I to go?’ Lilla retorted angrily. She tried to think, tried not to remember the iron taste of earth in her mouth. ‘Pass me my cup.’ She gulped down a mouthful of mead, but even the honey sweetness could not wash away the metallic tang. ‘I know you’re right, Grusha,’ she said more softly.

‘Soon it won’t be safe for you anywhere.’

‘Not in Sveäland anyway.’

‘Nor anywhere in the Twin Kingdoms—’

Suddenly there was a rap on the door. Lilla glanced at Gerutha and put her finger to her lips. She was still wearing her marten-skin cloak. She flicked the hood over her head, throwing the swollen side of her face into shadow, then went to stand behind the screen in the corner of her chamber. ‘See who it is.’

Gerutha went to the door. Lilla listened. She heard low voices, then Gerutha addressing her. ‘It’s Einar Fat-Belly, my lady.’