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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

And so I spent much of the rest of the night talking, while the remainder of the men drank and ate of the meagre fare on the boards. There was something about Olvir’s demeanour that set me on edge, but he was an inquisitive listener, and he probed me with many questions about Northumbria and, when he heard about our voyage north, he asked me details of Orkneyjar. He knew of Tannskári and seemed to have met him once, long before.

“I am surprised that scoundrel yet lives,” he said, before draining the ale from his great drinking horn. I was intrigued, but Olvir said no more about Tannskári. And I did not dare ask him.

Despite the ale and the warmth from the fire, the atmosphere in the hall was cool and tense. I felt like a man treading his way along a narrow path across treacherous marshland. Olvir and his men listened intently to every word I uttered, but their expressions and cold eyes told me they were judging me, and would pounce at any moment if I misspoke.

When at last the conversation died and men wrapped themselves in their cloaks to sleep, I slumped onto the rushes, uncaring that they were neither dry nor fresh. Within moments I was asleep. My dreams were shot through with flames and blood, and I awoke, unrested, with a start, to find the hall alive with sound and movement. Servants and thralls were setting the boards with food and drink and I was surprised at the change in Olvir’s generosity.

“It seems our host is generous with other men’s wealth,” said Gwawrddur in a low voice.

I looked at him questioningly.

“That cheese and ham come from Grágás’ stores,” he explained.

I had told the Welshman and the others what had been said the previous evening, and the mood of the company was subdued. Only Gwawrddur seemed unconcerned by the danger of our mission, instead relishing the challenge.

We had not long finished breaking our fast when Skamkel, the man Olvir had spoken to the previous night, approached us.

“Come,” he said, “your guide awaits you.”

Thirty-Seven

“I wouldn’t use this boat to transport dung,” said Runolf, his voice loud. He walked the length of the boat, shaking his head. When he reached the stern, he hawked and spat into the sea that lapped at the wooden pilings of the staithe.