“I say a special prayer for the little ones who perished. In particular, for Svein Knutsson, child of our new friends here.” Tears had begun to flow down Knut’s face, a stream over granite. Svala’s expression showed not a flicker of change, though she must have heard me speak her son’s name. “He was taken early by the gods, and is now at peace with his forebears in the place beyond death. Pray for him, and for all those lost here.”

After a few moments I stepped back outside the shape of stones, and so did Muirrin and Brenna. The men who had been digging earlier took up their spades to lay the last blanket of earth over these sleepers. An eerie silence hung in the air, broken only by the whimpering of a child whose mother hushed it against her shoulder.

“Now, Sibeal?” Johnny asked quietly.

I nodded. The spades rose and fell; the earth pattered softly down, a dark rain on the shrouds of the dead. Fitful torchlight played on the circle of somber, watching faces.

It happened in a flash. One moment I was standing there, the next I was sprawled facedown on the ground, knocked off balance as Svala hurled herself forward. As I struggled to sit up she seized my shoulders, shaking me so hard my teeth rattled. A scream burst from her, high, ululating. Then Knut was dragging her off me, pulling her away, while Johnny and Cathal came to help me up.

“Are you hurt, Sibeal?”

“I’m . . . I’m fine. She took me by surprise. We must continue with the ritual, Johnny.” I looked past him. There were Muirrin and Clodagh, looking somewhat paler than usual. And there was Knut, holding Svala by both arms, speaking to her in a low voice. Her chest heaved, but she was silent now. She did not meet his stern gaze; her beautiful eyes were turned on the ground.

“She was overcome by grief, I suppose,” Johnny said in an undertone. “And better to release that grief than keep it locked inside. But that’s no excuse for an act of violence.”

It was not sorrow I had felt in the grip of her strong hands. What I had sensed was a cry for help.

“Are you sure you can continue with this, Sibeal?”

“Of course.” I was still working on my breathing. “We need a final blessing, that’s all. It would be right for you to say that, as leader of the community.” The ritual must not end on a note of violence and discord. The gods would be deeply displeased, and the spirits of the dead would journey under a shadow.