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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

He tugged the woollen cloth back to reveal the sculpture. I had seen glimpses of it during the process, but I was not prepared for the effect the final creation would have on me. I had thought Runolf’s words to be said partly to please Drosten. But as I gazed at the carving, standing starkly against the pale blue sky, I understood that Runolf had merely spoken the truth. The carving was exquisite. And it was undoubtedly fit for the name he had given to the ship.

Brymsteda, the sea steed.

It was the head of a horse, ears flat and mane flowing, as if galloping. The hairs of the mane were interlocked and intertwined, carved in such a way as to appear alive with movement and yet also following a pattern of interlacing lines. The stallion’s eyes were wide and piercing, surrounded by whorls and curls reminiscent of the tattoos upon Drosten’s body. Its mouth was open, the patterned lips pulled back from the teeth, which were picked out in exacting detail. The animal’s nostrils flared in fury, giving the beast a warlike aspect.

Everyone fell silent, in awe of the skill and artistry displayed. And then, as if agreed beforehand, we all began to clap and cheer at once. Drosten’s cheeks were red behind his tattoos, but he grinned with relief and pleasure at the reception of his work.

It was only a few days later that the beast was lifted onto the prow of the ship. It was attached in such a way that it could be removed easily when needed.

“We do not wish to frighten away friendly spirits,” Runolf had said, by way of explanation. I frowned and made the sign of the cross, but I said nothing. Despite being baptised, I knew he was no follower of Christ, not in his heart. He still believed that Þórr caused the storms that lashed the coast during the winter, that Freyr breathed life into the shoots of the plants in spring, and quickened the bellies of the womenfolk when they became pregnant. Whenever I could, I spoke to him of Jesus’ teachings, but I sensed they never captured his attention in the same way as the tales of the grey-cloaked All-father, Óðinn, striding across the land with his two ravens, Huginn and Muninn.

Runolf seemed bored when Benesing came to bless the ship. The Norse giant had stood on the deck with his hand proudly on the mane of the stallion’s head, staring out toward the grey expanse of the sea. In his mind, I thought he was already sailing there.