It darkened. Ragnar said, Bragi, the smokehouse. In the middle of the floor, under the sawdust. A metal ring. Pull up on it. The tunnel leads to the house. Dont waste time. Ill send Soren in a minute.

Sword ready, Bragi ran to the smokehouse, stirred through greasy sawdust.

The ring was the handle of a trapdoor. Beneath, a ladder descended into a tunnel. He shook his head. He had known nothing about it. Ragnar had secrets he kept even from his own. He should have been called Fox, not Wolf.

Soren slipped into the smokehouse. Bragi explained. Then Haaken, Sigurd and Sturla followed. But Ragnar did not come. Sturla brought the Wolfs final instructions.

The tunnel was low and dark. Once Bragi placed a hand onto something furry that squealed and wriggled away. He was to remember that passage as the worst of the homeward journey.

The tunnel ended behind the wall of the ale cellar, its head masked by a huge keg that had to be rolled aside. It was a keg Ragnar had always refused to tap, claiming he was saving it for a special occasion.

The cellar stair led up to a larder where vegetables and meats hung from beams, out of the reach of rodents. Bragi crept up. Someone, cursing, entered the room over his head. He froze.

The abuse was directed at Bragis mother, Helga. She was not cooperating with Hjarlmas men. They, after the hardships they had faced in the forests, were put out because she refused to do their cooking.

Bragi listened closely. His mothers voice betrayed no fear. But nothing ever disturbed her visibly. She was always the same sedate, gracious, sometimes imperious lady. Before outsiders.

Even with the family she seldom showed anything but tenderness and love.

Banditry doesnt become you, Snorri. A civilized man, even in the house of his enemy, behaves courteously. Would Ragnar plunder Hjarlma? She was overhead now.

Bragi could not repress a grin. Damned right Ragnar would plunder Hjarlma. Down to the last cracked iron pot. But Snorri grumbled an apology and stamped away.

The trap rose while the doeskin larder curtain still swayed from Snorris passage. You can come up, Helga whispered. Be quick. Youve only got a minute.

Howd you know?

Ssh. Hurry up. Hjarlma, Bjorn and three others are by the big fireplace. Theyve been drinking and grumbling because your father has taken so long. Her face darkened when Haaken closed the trap. Bragi had watched her hope die by degrees as each man came up. Three more are sleeping in the loft. Hjarlma sent the rest out to look for your camp. He expects you to come in just before dawn.

The others prepared to charge. She touched Bragi, then Haaken. Be careful. Dont lose me everything.

Helga was rare in many ways, not the least of which was that she had borne only one child in a land where women were always pregnant.