“You led us on land,” he’d said to Hereward, “but out there, I will lead. The steed will obey our commands and carry us where we will, but it would be a foolish man who would gallop into the unknown without first learning to ride his horse.”

“How long do you think we will need to learn the ropes and the ways of the ship?” asked Gwawrddur. The Welshman seemed uncharacteristically anxious at the prospect of setting sail. Perhaps we all were.

Runolf had shrugged.

“I cannot say how good you are as students.” He smirked. “Can you tell me when Hunlaf will be able to fight well with a sword?”

“We cannot wait years before putting to sea, surely!” replied the Welshman, with a chuckle.

The men laughed, and I bit my lip. I was ever the brunt of their jokes, but I knew that it was a sign of their affection for me. To be ignored would be worse.

“A few days should be enough,” Runolf said, scratching at something beneath the thatch of his red beard. “Those fishermen know their steerboard from their halliard. That will help.” He thought for a moment. “Yes, with fair weather and some luck, we will be ready to sail for Rygjafylki in a fortnight.”

“Good,” replied Hereward, though this still seemed like a long time to wait before being able to go in search of Aelfwyn. “Let us pray for good weather then. But before that, let us feast.”

Sixteen

“Where is my son?” Mancas asked.

I made a pretence of looking over the people who had spilt out of the small hall onto the open area of grass before its doors.

“I know not,” I said. It was true that I did not know where Gersine was, but I had a good idea. I chose not to tell his father that I had seen him being led by the hand into the darkness by Cwenswith.

Mancas’ features were partly shadowed, but illuminated enough by the fires that burnt in the great cooking pits, for me to see his frown.

“I mean to address the crew before they get too drunk to listen, and I would that Gersine were here to listen to my words.”