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Chapters (76)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise forMATTHEW HARFFY
  3. BY MATTHEW HARFFY
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright
  6. Dedication
  7. Maps
  8. Epigraph
  9. Contents
  10. Place Names
  11. One
  12. Two
  13. Three
  14. Four
  15. Five
  16. Six
  17. Seven
  18. Eight
  19. Nine
  20. Ten
  21. Eleven
  22. Twelve
  23. Thirteen
  24. Fourteen
  25. Fifteen
  26. Sixteen
  27. Seventeen
  28. Eighteen
  29. Nineteen
  30. Twenty
  31. Twenty-One
  32. Twenty-Two
  33. Twenty-Three
  34. Twenty-Four
  35. Twenty-Five
  36. Twenty-Six
  37. Twenty-Seven
  38. Twenty-Eight
  39. Twenty-Nine
  40. Thirty
  41. Thirty-One
  42. Thirty-Two
  43. Thirty-Three
  44. Thirty-Four
  45. Thirty-Five
  46. Thirty-Six
  47. Thirty-Seven
  48. Thirty-Eight
  49. Thirty-Nine
  50. Forty
  51. Forty-One
  52. Forty-Two
  53. Forty-Three
  54. Forty-Four
  55. Forty-Five
  56. Forty-Six
  57. Forty-Seven
  58. Forty-Eight
  59. Forty-Nine
  60. Fifty
  61. Fifty-One
  62. Fifty-Two
  63. Fifty-Three
  64. Fifty-Four
  65. Fifty-Five
  66. Fifty-Six
  67. Fifty-Seven
  68. Fifty-Eight
  69. Fifty-Nine
  70. Sixty
  71. Sixty-One
  72. Sixty-Two
  73. Author’s Note
  74. Acknowledgements
  75. About the Author
  76. An Invitation from the Publisher

“Look,” Runolf gestured over his shoulder, “already you can see the sun peeking through the clouds back there.” I glanced back into the west and saw that he was right. A beam of sunlight speared through the clouds now. To the north, a bright rainbow shone against the gloom. “You have never known fear,” Runolf said, “until you have faced a true storm at sea.” He sighed, looking into the distance with his ice blue eyes. “That is something you never forget. Wind and waves that last for days, and you can do nothing but run before it, trusting your ship, your skill, and praying that Njörðr accepts whatever sacrifice you may throw to him.”

I shivered, and only partly from the cold. Neither of us spoke for some time. Beyond the reefed sail, gravid and billowing with the strong wind, I watched Drosten’s prow-horse seeming to gallop across the waves.

“Do not look so glum,” said Runolf suddenly with a grin. “I told you I was a great shipwright.” He patted the strakes beside him. “Brymsteda has shown us all what it is capable of. It’ll carry us safely.”

A strong gust of wind caught the sail then, causing the ship to list to larboard and, as if in direct response to Runolf’s prideful words, the tiller in his hands became suddenly loose. Runolf spat over the edge into the swirling sea, and cursed loudly. I know I should show no belief in superstitions, or in the power of pagan gods, but I have seen many times in my long life that it does not do to tempt fate. Hubris often brings about disaster. Some call it bad luck, others believe that the gods laugh at those who declare themselves above them. Perhaps in this case it was the Almighty Himself reminding us to trust in Him, and in Him alone. Whatever the cause, at the mention of Njörðr and Runolf’s assertion of his longship’s quality, the leather strap securing the rudder in place, tore asunder under the great stresses of the ship’s passage through the turbulent waters at such great speed.

“Lower the sail,” Runolf bellowed, and the relative calm aboard was shattered once more as the crew hurried to do the skipper’s bidding.

Twenty-Three

It was very late when Brymsteda limped past the looming shadows of cliffs and into the protected waters of a sound on the isle of Orkneyjar. Everyone aboard was exhausted from battling the elements and the ship. The sun had dropped behind the western edge of the world a long time before, but this far north and so close to midsummer the sky was never truly dark.