‘I can’t do business on an empty stomach.’ He leaned forward and steepled his fingers. ‘From this hall, I can summon a fleet of fifty-three ships from around the shores of the Estland gulf, each one filled with at least forty men, armed with spear and shield and axe. Besides them, the land levies of the Livi number three thousand, give or take. Three other Estlander tribes owe me allegiance which, all in, amount to another two and a half thousand fighting men. That’s a total of—let’s call it seven and a half thousand head. A fleet and an army. That’s what I bring to an alliance.’ His nostrils flared spitefully. ‘Tell me, Queen Lilla Sviggarsdottír. What do you bring?’

Her mouth was a weld of anger. She felt ridiculous. She said nothing.

‘Don’t say all you have is this barrel of lard,’ he cried, pointing at Einar. True, Einar was hardly impressive on the eye, even if there had been five thousand more like him.

‘I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need men. What I have is gold.’

Osvald’s yellow tongue ran slowly along his lip. ‘Go on.’

‘Show him.’ The hint of a frown passed across Einar’s brow. ‘Show him,’ she insisted.

Till then Osvald hadn’t noticed the small chest under Einar’s feet. The karl pulled it out and hefted it onto the table. Then flicking the catch, he flung open the lid.

For a few seconds, Osvald said nothing. He merely leaned forward, the better to see the contents of the box. Lilla watched as his pale features warmed in the reflected colour of the gold. ‘You’re brave indeed carrying this with so light an escort. Brave –’ his eyes snapped up – ‘or stupid.’

‘We trusted that our host was not a common thief.’

‘Hmm! Well, it’s a pretty pile of trinkets there, no error. But not enough to buy an army.’

‘This is merely a taste. To whet the appetite. It is but a fraction of the Nefelung hoard, which I possess.’

‘Possess? I don’t see it about you.’

‘The rest is in a safe place. A secret place. Thrand knows nothing of it.’

‘How can I believe that?’

‘Because you have my word. Is it not enough?’

She was bluffing. Even so, she wondered whether he would dare insult her honour. ‘You say there’s more. Be specific. How much more?’

‘It is a rough figure but. . . it was last weighed at five hundred ship-pounds.’ Osvald’s eyes widened with astonishment. That was probably fifty times more gold than even a king could hope to see in a lifetime. She didn’t say that since it had been weighed her brother had squandered more than half of it.