His heart glowed. He smiled at her. But she was having her courses. He spent the night with Gyda.

In the morning Ragnhild watched him go, along with the household and most of the neighborhood. A hundred warriors fared off in two ships. More would have seemed threatening. Besides, this was harvest season. They rowed lustily, a brave sight athwart the Scanian shore that lay low and hazy across the Sound. Soon they were small in her eyes, soon they were lost.

The run went easily, with overnight stops along the way, up the Baltic to the Skerrygarth and in among its many islets. A troop of Swedes were camped at a landing that the messengers had told of. Uffi’s brother, Hunding, led them. He stood on the wharf to greet the Dane-king with a handclasp.

“We have been waiting here for you, that we may bring you to Uppsala with your rightful honor,” he said. “Thank you for that you came. Glad will all our folk be of peace with you, but none more glad than me.” He gulped, fumbled at the brooch that held his cloak, and pulled the garment off. It was of scarlet wool lined with silk and trimmed with ermine. The words burst from him: “In token of welcome, take this, and, and may goodwill always cover our houses.”

Hadding looked closely at him while saying thanks. Hunding was young and slim, though well knit. Hair so fair that it was nearly white fluttered about sharp features, as yet only thinly bearded, with big eyes. “My hopes are high,” said Hadding.

The troops ate together that evening in the nearby hamlet. After ale had flowed freely, wariness became merriment.

In the morning they set forth. Hunding had brought horses for all. They rode briskly through a rolling land, broad and rich. Fields rippled tawny, kine cropped meadows, hayricks stood shaggy for winter, smoke lifted from farmsteads and thorps, laden oxcarts creaked on the roads, harvesters lowered their sickles and children shouted as the warriors passed by with iron aflash and ringing. Wind soughed in woodlots, but no big stands of trees were left. “Yours is a mighty kingdom,” Hadding said once.

Hunding flushed and looked away. “We can’t guest you as well as behooves us. I hope you won’t take it amiss.”

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“The kingly hall is not fit for men such as you and yours. Uffi did not fare about this year, but stayed the whole while at Uppsala. He said he must, to look after some things hereabouts that were getting troublesome—I’m not sure what they were—and so he could send quick answers to any word from you. The upshot is that there’s been no time when the privies could be mucked out, nor to scrub the buildings and let them sweeten unused. They’re all dirty and they stink. I tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen.”