When he deemed it safe, Hadding helped Gudorm squirm forth and clamber onto the upended bottom. They could not right the craft again, but Hadding fetched the oars. He had tied them down inboard so that it would look as though the capsizing had happened hours ago. Sitting astride, he and Gudorm paddled to land. Stumbling into the shelter of a thicket, they slept.

Thereafter it was to find a house the raiders had not reached, where they got food, drink, and more rest. The owner’s son ran off to the sheriff with word about them. Though the sheriff was sorely beset as Tosti’s band scoured around, he brought horses. And thus Hadding won home.

There he sent forth the war-arrow. With a full levy he sought out the foe and went to work. Few were the Jutes and Saxons who did not leave their bones on that field. Having recovered what loot he could, he went on vengefully into their homelands. Not soon did those folk think again about faring against Denmark.

But Tosti had gotten away.

XXVIII

In the next summer, on his yearly ride through Scania, King Hadding stopped as always in Bralund. Eyjolf welcomed him with the same friendliness as ever. Yet it seemed to Hadding that a shadow lay over the household.

On the third day Eyjolf asked if they could speak under four eyes. They saddled horses and went forth. The steading dropped from sight behind them; only a thin twist of smoke lifted over a grove, and other homes lay dwindled by farness. Fields ripened, cows grazed in paddocks, wildflowers nodded blue and pink along the roadside, the miles round about faded hazily into sky. Bees buzzed in clover. Dust puffed up from hoofs, into windlessness, and fell slowly down.

“This warmth does an old man good,” said Hadding at length.

Eyjolf glanced at him. “You’re not yet old.”

“I’ve seen more winters than most men do. It’s time for me to think of those who’ll come after me.”

Eyjolf drew breath. “That’s what I wanted to talk about.”

“Ulfhild, not so?” asked Hadding softly.

“Yes.”

“She seems well enough behaved.”

“That’s because you’re here. Lord, she’s often a she-wolf. At best she does her tasks surlily. If crossed in any way, or for no reason we can guess, she screams, smashes things, lays about her with a switch or even a whip. The housefolk dare not say so, but plain it is how they hate and fear her. She gallops off by herself, without a by-your-leave, and won’t say where she’s gone. Nonetheless she can bewitch when she chooses, with her beauty, quick wit, and sharp mirth. In that mood she flirts more than is seemly, not only with youths but with married men, yes, and lowly crofters.”