“No. And Father beat me again. He said I was a fool, that one of the villagers must have taken it. Or perhaps he thought I had kept it for myself. Thinking back on it now, Father was probably right. Maybe Skorri took it, for he knew what I had done. But the next day, the mare birthed a healthy colt, and I was certain that the elves had accepted my gift and fulfilled my wish. I was sore from all the beatings, but it was a price worth paying. I had not thought of that time for many years.”

Runolf let out a long breath and turned to face me. There was something in his eye that made me wary. Without thinking, I took a step back.

“I did not like what you did back at Orkneyjar,” Runolf said. “You are a better man than that, Hunlaf.”

I swallowed. I had known this was coming, but I didn’t expect then, in that place.

“I would never have harmed the boy,” I said. “You know that.”

“Do I?” Runolf scratched at his beard. “Did he? We make war on men, Hunlaf, not children. We tread the same path now, you and I. Who knows for how long? But while we walk together, you will not threaten or hurt a child.”

I wanted to protest, to shout my innocence. I had done nothing wrong. I had saved Drosten and spared us all from bloodshed. But under Runolf’s disapproving glower, my arguments melted away, and I simply nodded.

“I would not have harmed him,” I repeated. “And I will never harm or threaten a child again. I am sorry.”

He stared at me for a long time, as if weighing my words against his worth for me. It seemed he found my words had merit, for eventually he stepped close and slapped me on the back. So prodigious was his strength, that I staggered.

“Good,” he said. “Being angry with you was tiring. Friends again?”

He held out his huge hand. I took his arm in the warrior grip, forearm to forearm.

“Always,” I said, feeling relief washing through me.

“It is well,” Runolf said, squeezing my arm. “I know not what has happened here, but I fear I will need all the friends I can get soon enough.”

I was glad of his words. Now that we had moved out of the tumbled remains of the steading buildings, and with Runolf once more speaking to me, some of the tension had lifted from us. But even so, many questions still assailed my mind.

Runolf teased open the small leather pouch he wore at his belt, and pulled out a sliver of hacksilver. With a shrug and a lopsided smile at me, he stooped and placed the metal on the cairn.