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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

“That’s where you are heading,” said Skialg, one of Eldgrim’s men, nodding towards the broad river mouth. The water was deep and dark and the river carved its way inland between steep tree-covered rocky slopes. The river looked wide enough for Grágás or Brymsteda to travel on.

“How far are we going?” I asked. Skialg shrugged.

I stared eastward, but the river’s course was lost to view as it veered sharply behind a rocky outcrop. The setting sun glinted on the water for a moment, and then we were beyond the river mouth and turning towards Sand.

Eldgrim shouted across the water, announcing our arrival. Shortly afterwards, faces appeared in doorways and soon, when they saw the size of the ship that approached, and the obvious wealth of its owner, the locals hurried to make room for Grágás. Men shouted and rushed about. Several boats were moved and moored alongside other neighbouring vessels. I marvelled as men paddled out of our way on long thin boats that seemed to be nothing more than hollowed out logs. Others, though larger, were still flimsy affairs that looked as if they were sewn together with birch bark.

It took some time for the green-streaked wharf to be made ready. But once there was space, the local men eagerly caught the thrown lines and pulled Grágás alongside the creaking timber structure. When we were safely moored, we clambered ashore and I looked out over the sun-gilded waters of the fjord we had followed to reach Sand. For the last day we had rowed between high mountains, as the sea cut far into the land.

“It is beautiful, is it not?” Runolf asked.

I nodded, barely able to put into words how I felt when observing the vast expanses of water and the towering mountain peaks.

“I can scarcely believe the size of this kingdom,” I said at last, frowning because the words did not do justice to my feelings.

“Mountains do not make a man rich,” Runolf said. “I have seen no land more beautiful, but this is a hard land, and it is difficult for a man to bring enough oats and rye from the soil to feed his family.” He scratched at his red beard, his blue eyes seeing into the past. “The winters are bitter,” he said after a time. “The snow lies as deep as a man is tall.”

I stared about me, trying in vain to picture the forested mountains clad in such deep snow, the waters of the fjord dark with the cold, and the sky leaden and grey instead of aflame with the setting sun of summer.