Next year after harvest he raised a host and steered for Norway to avenge his daughter, sister, and kingdom. He found more foemen than he had looked for. With anger in their own hearts, the Saxons had listened to what Svipdag’s messengers asked of them and sent warriors to stand at his side. Gram fell in a battle where the Danes suffered sore loss. Svipdag busked himself to go win kingship over them.

Signy had not been glad when Gram reaved her away. She yearned back to Finland. Yet she had lately borne a son, Hadding, and did not wish the bairn slain in his crib. Wherever she went with him, she feared Svipdag’s killers would follow. Therefore she sent him secretly off to Braki, as his half brother had openly been sent, in hopes that the chieftain could somehow save him.

All this and more did Gudorm know. He might have passed it on to Hadding when the younger boy came to speech. But by then Gudorm was no longer there.

IV

A wind out of the north bore tidings of oncoming winter. Rain slanted before it, mingled with sleet. Bare boughs tossed and creaked above sere meadows. Stubblefields were becoming mires. Now and then the eye caught sight of a farmstead, huddled into itself, but it was soon lost again in the gray.

A log road stayed passable. Four horses drew a wain along it. Their breath smoked white. The wain was big, decked over, richly carved and painted. Gripping beasts entwined with each other along the sides; faces gaped and scowled on the hubs, as if the bumps and groans of their wheels were threats they uttered; iron rang against free-swinging iron—all to frighten off drows and other uncanny beings. Queen Gro sat there, together with four serving women. They were well clad against the cold, in furs and heavy cloth. Likewise were the score of guardsmen who rode ahead and behind, but water tumbled off their helmets and ran down their spearshafts.

Shadowy at first, then high and dark, a stockade showed forth before them. Crows had long since picked clean the heads of illdoers which King Gram had staked on top, though hair still clung to a few. Warriors at the gate took hold of weapons and bade the newcomers halt. When they heard who it was, they let the troop through and a man sped to bring word of these guests.

Here wheels and hoofs banged over cobblestones. Buildings crowded close around. Most were small, wattle-and-daub with turf roofs from which smoke drifted low along the peaks. They were stables, workshops, storehouses, homes for lesser folk. Noise rang: speech, footfalls, hammering, lowing, cackling, bleating. Smells of fire, cookery, beasts, dung, and wet woolen coats hung heavy. Pigs, dogs, barnyard fowl wandered free. Men, women, and children peered from doorways as the queen passed. Some fingers drew signs in the air.