“Ardal—”

“I’ll help him as soon as this is done. Not like that, wind it through and over . . . that’s it. Then I must ask you to go for help. I won’t leave you with Knut, even trussed up. What in the name of the gods was he doing? Did he try to assault you?”

“He would have killed Ardal. I woke up and he was there, pressing his fingers into his neck. And then he slashed at him with a knife. Gull, please see if Ardal’s all right. He’s unconscious, and I think he’s bleeding . . . ”

“This job needs doing first. Now the ankles. I got a good blow in because he wasn’t expecting it. I wouldn’t like my chances a second time. Tie it firmly.” He hauled the Norseman over to the wall, propping him in a sitting position.

Gods, don’t let Ardal be dead, please, please . . . I’ll do anything, anything you want . . .

He lay as I had left him, head on one side, face chalk white. There was a dark stain of blood on the floor by his side. Please, please . . .

“Bring a lamp over, Sibeal.” Gull put his hand to the fallen man’s neck, feeling for the rhythm of the heart. My own heart strained to beat for Ardal’s; I sank my teeth into my lip, waiting.

“He’s not done for yet,” Gull said, and I felt tears well in my eyes and flow down my cheeks, welcome as spring rain. “Roll up his left sleeve, will you, Sibeal? I think the blood’s coming from that arm. Ah, yes—a nasty flesh wound here, but it doesn’t look deep. I’ll wrap something around it for now. As for his head—” He moved up, supported Ardal’s neck with one hand, felt the skull gently with the other, under the thick fall of hair. “He’ll have a monstrous headache and a lump like an egg—it’s already swelling—but my opinion is he’ll survive both this and the knife wound. Ardal’s a man on a mission, even if he doesn’t quite know what it is. He’s not going to let something like this stop him. As for Knut, he has some explaining to do, and I don’t think it can wait for morning.”

“Thank you,” I said, scrubbing my cheeks. “Gull, thank you.” For coming in when you did. For saving us. For being so calm and wise. For telling me Ardal isn’t dead.

“Just wish I’d been quicker. You’d best go for help now. Straight to Johnny. Ask him to bring Gareth and Cathal, and maybe one of the Norse speakers, if someone can be fetched without waking the whole place. I suppose we need to hear both sides of the story, whatever it turns out to be. Likely you’ll find someone on the way here already; that was quite a scream. Enough to put a man off going to the privy by himself at night for a long time.”