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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

“Don’t kill us,” said the voice, and I groaned, already imagining the taunting I would receive for raising the alarm for this.

Seventeen

Brymsteda’s prow rose up over the swell. Drosten’s stallion figurehead seemed to survey the white-capped waves all about us, standing proud against the cloud-streaked sky, before plunging downward, as if galloping, into the trough between the waves. A great shower of spray, cold and salty, washed over those of us who stood at the bow of the ship.

I grasped the forestay to avoid stumbling and let out a cry of joy at the sensation of speed.

The day had dawned with a brisk wind that Runolf had deemed not too blustery for us to sail safely. All those who were to travel on the voyage were aboard, with the exception of Mancas who was going over final preparations for provisions for the trip with his steward.

Behind me, I heard the sounds of retching as someone puked. Whoever it was, they were not alone. Several of those aboard had succumbed to a terrible sickness. I wondered whether the food the night before had been bad.

“Grab that man!” bellowed Runolf from the steerboard at the stern.

Turning, I saw the sick man was leaning over the wale, his head almost skimming the water. The next wave we ploughed through might cause him to lose his footing and send him tumbling to a watery grave. There was nobody close to the man who would offer him aid. Everyone was occupied with ropes, or just as sick as him, or clinging to the rigging in fear of falling. I hurried back to the vomiting man, grabbed a damp wad of his coarse woollen habit and hauled him back from the edge.

“You did not come all this way just to drown, did you?” I asked.

Leofstan turned to face me, his legs unsteady. My old teacher’s face was pallid as he wiped spittle from his mouth on the back of his hand. The keel trembled as we sliced into another wave. Leofstan staggered. I caught his arm, preventing him from falling.

“Perhaps the Lord is telling me something,” he said. “I think I might be dying.”

“You are not dying,” I said. “Sit there, and if you must puke, do it into the ship. I wouldn’t want to lose you to the sea before we have even set sail for Rygjafylki!”

“I hope you would not wish to lose me to the sea after we have set sail either,” he moaned, forcing a thin smile. He slumped against the side of the ship and lowered his head in abject misery.

“Nobody is getting lost,” I said.