‘I’m a woman, aren’t I? Like any other,’ replied Lilla, still gazing out over the landscape. Below them, she could see smoke rising from a settlement nestled beside the river.

‘Not like any woman I’ve known,’ Valrik said, his voice growing even deeper. But when she gave no answer, he cleared his throat. ‘Anyhow, that’s their village.’

She turned and grinned up at him. ‘So what now, skipper?’

Valrik glanced back at Fasolt’s prow, its fierce figurehead glaring over the horizon like a silent watchman. ‘We put this grumpy bitch back in the water. And then. . .’ He shrugged. ‘With a bit of luck, we feast.’

There was no mead-hall, no barns, no temple. The village was nothing but a perimeter of felled tree trunks piled to the height of a man’s chest, enclosing a jumbled collection of wattle-anddaub roundhouses and sheep pens.

The headman turned out with all his clan for their arrival. Dogs barked, children raced about shrieking, the menfolk – in sheepskin jerkins and deer-hide trews – crowded around them grinning. Their womenfolk waved, dressed in simple homespun that barely concealed their modesty.

That night, with Fasolt safely refitted and ready for their onward voyage the following day, they feasted under an open sky. Slaves laboured through the evening, ferrying out platters piled high with roasted venison and honeyed horse flesh, accompanied by hard, ripe cheeses and black barley-bread. They drank spiced ale as dark as the earth in that land and bread-beer flavoured with mint and berries. There was music and dancing long into the night.

The headman was a whale of a man, whose slavering and gulping were enough to put Lilla off her food, despite her hunger. But he was a jolly soul too, and through Bayan’s efforts they were able to communicate with their host a little. Mostly banalities and it wasn’t long before the headman was taking more interested in the next platter of food than his guests.

In a quiet moment, Lilla turned to Valrik. ‘It’s no small thing they’ve done,’ she said, gesturing at his crewmen scattered ruddy-faced and smiling about the tables. ‘That you’ve done.’

Valrik grunted and took a swig of his ale. ‘Yep. And my reward is this horse piss.’

‘You should be proud. You found a way.’

Valrik smiled. ‘Didn’t I say it could be done?’

‘You were right.’ Lilla traced a circle on the table with the heel of her cup. ‘Do you think I was right? To choose this?’

He looked at her, considering her for a moment. ‘It ain’t for me to judge a queen.’

‘Do it anyway.’

‘Hm! Very well. . . I think you’re just like the rest of us. Trying to find a way home. Only sometimes the surest way home is to set your course away from it.’

‘Then why did you agree to take me? For the gold? For your boys? You were home already.’