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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

Torfi swallowed. For a long while he said nothing. The flames crackled and hissed. Despite the heat they gave off, I shivered in the darkness.

“There is no other way then?” asked Torfi.

I wondered whether it might not be better to keep this man alive. He could sail and fight, and we would need all the men we could find to crew the ship once it was complete. But Runolf shook his head.

Torfi sighed and lowered his head as if in prayer. After a time, he looked up once more. His eyes gleamed.

“Very well,” he said. “But I curse Øybiorn for his bad luck. What would you know from me, Runolf Ragnarsson?”

Runolf leaned forward, his voice low, like the whisper of the waves off in the night.

“Tell me of Estrid.”

A thin smile returned to Torfi’s lips.

“Ah, it is always the womenfolk that drive us.”

Runolf said nothing. I thought of Cwenswith and my cheeks grew hot in the darkness. I did not relay their words.

“What would you have me tell you?” Torfi asked.

“How does she fare?”

“If you are asking whether she has found a new husband, the answer is no. Though I doubt such a beauty will be alone for long.”

Runolf growled and I noted his huge hand tightening on the haft of the great axe that rested on the earth at his side.

“Come now, Runolf,” Torfi said. “You have asked me for tidings of her, and you know as well as I that a steading cannot be run by a woman alone.” He hesitated, perhaps weighing up the impact of his next words. “After you left,” Torfi went on, “Estrid took in with Skorri. You knew this, no?”

Runolf’s shoulders tensed. He nodded, but did not speak. Torfi, seemingly satisfied that he would not be struck down for speaking, ploughed on.

“Since he failed to return at the end of last summer, Estrid has found it hard to work the land. As soon as the snows melted, she went about buying more thralls. Skorri left her a wealthy woman, so silver was no problem.”

At the mention of thralls, Runolf flicked a glance at me. I was busy speaking their words in Englisc for the onlookers, but I nodded at him, willing him to enquire about Aelfwyn. All we had discovered the year before was that Aelfwyn had been bought by a wealthy landowner. A man Runolf knew, called Kolfinn.

“You know anything of the thralls bought by Kolfinn?” he asked.

Torfi seemed surprised by the question and sudden change in the direction of the interrogation.

“Kolfinn Refsson of Talgje?”

“The same.”

“It is strange you should ask about old Kolfinn.”

“How so?”