Everywhere was confusion. There were Norse shouts behind her. Men were already yelling at the riverbank. She was about to run on when a figure appeared on the bank above her.

Then another. Varkonni. She’d a notion that she knew him as a man who had often eyed her during their portage. His mouth cracked in an ugly smile. She backed away, bracing herself for their attack. The man chuckled and muttered something to his friend who held back while he skidded down the bank and circled around her.

‘Come on, you bastard,’ she muttered grimly.

Without a second invitation he threw himself at her. There was no subtlety in his attack, only a kind of lean, animal ferocity that for a moment threatened to overwhelm her. He lunged with his spear. She bludgeoned it away, reeling backwards. They circled around each other, she braced herself again, but before his second attack a shadow came looping out of the dark. There was a thud and he fell like timber onto his face, a hand-axe jutting between his shoulder blades.

The other warrior above her spun around to peer blindly into the gloom. He’d hardly turned when a streak of steel struck him in the face.

‘In more damn trouble, I see.’ Valrik pulled his blade free. ‘Where’s the Hel’s Bayan?’

‘There.’ She pointed up the track. ‘He’s dead.’

‘We will be too if we don’t make the ship. We’re out of time.’ There was a thrum. He suddenly grunted and arched his back, clutching at his side. She gasped, seeing the arrow buried there, expecting him to fall, but he only sucked a breath and snapped off the shaft. ‘Go! Go!’

‘Aren’t you hurt?’

‘Move, damn you!’

In a hundred paces they were at the river. She saw others there, crewmen desperately heaving bales of furs and other cargo onto the ship. ‘Leave the rest, you fools! Cut her loose – now! NOW!’

Some of the crew were already aboard. Three or four were waist deep in the river, shoving and shunting the hull which was moving but too slowly. Lilla threw herself over the sheerstrake, landing on a ruptured bale of pelts. The Varkonni were hanging back, content to hurl spears and loose arrows from a distance. Valrik was still yelling for someone to cut loose the stern, then he was there himself, his sword falling, and at last the ship lurched free.

‘Einar! Einar!’ That was Gerutha’s voice. Thank the gods, she’s here, thought Lilla. She looked over and saw Gerutha was leaning over the steer-board side trying to reach something in the water. ‘Help me! A rope! I need a rope!’

There was something coiled on the deck in front of her. She snatched it and flung it to Gerutha. Somehow her servant caught one end and tossed the rest over the edge.