“Anything is possible,” he said, and I had the urge to slap him. This was a delicate moment and not the time for his frequently uttered flippant comment. “My countrymen are great warriors,” Runolf went on, his accent strange, but his Englisc clear enough. “I have told you before that they will take what is easily taken, like the fox with the hen, or the wolf with the sheep.” The king glowered at the Norseman. I tensed, concerned that Runolf would snuff out the interest I had fanned. But I needn’t have worried. “But a good shepherd has a brave dog to keep the wolves away,” he continued. “And the men of Rygjafylki are no fools. Like the wolf, they will seek the easiest prey. If they see that you have ships as fast as theirs, and men willing to stand and fight, they will think twice about attacking your land. Like most men, they seek fortune and gold more than battle-fame. If you go to the king of my people and offer to trade silver, wool and woad in exchange for furs, iron and slaves, I think he would agree.” He scratched at his thatch of beard and I nodded, pleased he had remembered the items we had discussed.

“Trade rather than raids, then?” said the king.

Runolf hesitated, perhaps confused by Æthelred’s words. But after a few heartbeats, he gave a curt nod of his shaggy head.

“Anything is possible. I see no reason why he would not agree to such terms. Both kingdoms would be strengthened without more blood.” Runolf grinned, his teeth bright in the dim light of the hall. “Besides, there are many other kingdoms ripe for raiding.”

Æthelred stared at Runolf. The whispers from the seated men grew in volume. Runolf, seemingly oblivious to the effect his words had on the men, continued, enumerating the lands his people could savage instead of Northumbria.