‘Thanks, lad,’ Tahir said to him, sweating as he picked up a boulder from Haelan’s mound. He’d stripped his clothes off to the waist: shirt, leather vest and sword-belt laid in a pile. Men all along the meadow were taking boulders from the mounds made by children and repairing an old wall.

‘Why are we doing this?’ Haelan asked Tahir.

‘Because a wall’s no use if it’s got holes in it,’ Tahir said.

Haelan sniffed, looking at his blisters.

When I am king I shall get you to carry my rocks for me.

‘But why is the entire hold going to so much trouble? Haven’t they got better things to do?’

‘Wulf thinks it’s best to tighten his hold’s defences. I’d agree with him there, and I think you would too.’

‘Where is Wulf, then?’ Haelan asked sullenly. ‘He comes up with the idea, gives the order and then is nowhere to be seen.’

‘I don’t know where Wulf is,’ Tahir said. ‘On business for Gramm, no doubt. But you’d do things here differently, would you?’

‘Aye. Lead by example. That’s what my mam said to me.’ He felt a lump in his throat and picked at a fingernail.

‘Well, that’s good advice. But whether Wulf’s here or no, this wall still needs fixing. Don’t want Jael just wandering in, if he comes back, do we?’

No. Haelan remembered the sight of Jael’s warband as it rode bold as brass into Gramm’s courtyard.

‘A wall won’t stop Jael, though.’

‘No, right enough. But it would slow him, if the road was blocked too, and a wall’s good for other things, as well. Surprises, traps, stopping people getting out, once they’re in. Now stop flapping your tongue and bring me some more rocks.’

Haelan sighed, looking across the meadow. Every man, woman and bairn had been split into work groups of about a score and fanned out to this outer wall. His group was now leagues away from Gramm’s hold, closer to Forn Forest than Haelan had ever been. Its trees were huge, towering high into the sky, trunks thick and knotted. I don’t think a dozen men could link their arms around those trees. For some reason, though, Haelan liked to look at Forn. It’s like another world, away from Jael and all of his hurt. Somewhere safe. He drifted off in a daydream that involved carving a house inside the trunk of one of those great trees and living out his days in safety, hunting by day with Pots at his side, reclining at night in his hall in the trunk’s heart.

‘Sore hands?’ a voice said behind him. It was Trigg, the half-breed. She glanced at Pots as she put a rock on the pile, bigger than anything Haelan could hope to lift, let alone carry a hundred paces.