Einar gave a disdainful snort. ‘They say he had a fever. Which either makes him lucky, or yellow.’

‘What sort of man is he?’

‘A wastrel. So I heard. And a greedy one.’

‘Then let me appeal to his greed.’

‘I don’t know. You need men whose hearts are with you – either for love of you or hatred of your enemy. And even if Osvald will help you, I don’t suppose you’d be getting much for your gold.’

Lilla sighed. It felt hopeless. What then – must she be a fugitive all her days? An exile queen begging mercy from hall to hall? Or worse, stay here, and face the ignominy of Thrand’s rule and the risk of that again? She had sworn to her husband that Thrand would not rule, but what power did she have to keep her oath? Rage boiled afresh in her heart, stirred by the flames of despair. ‘Then there’s no one,’ she said bitterly. ‘No one who can help me.’

‘There may be. . . one,’ said Gerutha softly. She was looking down into her open palm. At first, Lilla couldn’t see what she had nestled there. Then Gerutha reached out and dropped something into her hand. Lilla looked down. It was a little amulet, a crude rendering in silver of Mjollnir, Thor’s Hammer. She recognized it at once.

‘Erlan,’ she murmured, amazed. Just the name on her lips sent a shiver of emotion through her heart.

‘It is his.’

‘How did you come by this?’

She listened as Gerutha explained how Erlan had come to her in confidence before leaving Uppsala. He had given her this amulet to safeguard, perhaps for ever. ‘He said it was the seal on his word. That if ever you had need of him and nowhere else to turn, I was to give you this.’

‘But how were you to find him?’

‘He said to look for him in the east.’

‘East. Is that all?’

‘He knew no more himself.’

‘The east!’ spat Lilla in frustration. ‘Gods, he may as well have said the world.’

‘I don’t know. It may not be so forlorn as that,’ said Einar. ‘If I were looking for a man in the east, first place I’d start would be Dunsgard, high-seat of Ostein.’

‘Where Osvald now sits.’

‘Mmm.’ She could see his mind was working. ‘Osvald ain’t much use, no doubt. But with Erlan Aurvandil. . .’ Einar’s face cracked in a smile. ‘The Aurvandil’s name carries a good deal more weight. With him behind you, you might win many more to your banner.’

‘But he fought with the Danes at Bravik. Why would the Sveärs stand behind him?’