Tosti made camp along the outflow of the Humber. Nobody lived there now, though charred timbers nearby showed where a small town had been. “We’ll catch our breath here before we look around,” he said.

“That’ll soon grow dull,” grumbled a warrior.

“Why, you can play games all day,” laughed Tosti. “Let me show you some.”

They could pitch balls, they could run foot races and wrestle, they could shoot arrows, and they did. But Tosti had brought along a small bagful of dice Soon men were wildly tossing and wagering.

They were still overwrought after their voyage. They recalled words and blows. When a man lost too many throws, he was apt to say another man was a cheat. Now Tosti did not go between them. Instead, he slily egged them on. Fights broke out. Weapons flashed. Men died.

“Ill is this,” Tosti would say. “But he fell on his own deeds. He’d have robbed me of a sworn brother. The weregild is mine.” And he took everything the fallen man had owned. Since none of them had kinfolk on hand, and none of the living cared to speak against Tosti when his gaze prowled across them, he gathered to himself most of what wealth had been on the ship. Also, by this means he thinned out his crew to a more fitting size, the toughest of the lot.

At length they upped anchor. Through the rest of that summer they searched the eastern side of England. When they could plunder, they did, but mainly their chief was looking for war-fellows.

When he met leaders like himself, they would come together warily, sit down and drink while their men stood taut, sometimes grow mellow and swap gifts. Yet it was not until the end of summer that Tosti found one he thought he might want.

This was at the Wash, where the Norse viking Koll lay with three ships. Tosti’s drew slowly toward them, white shield at masthead but hands not far from hafts. Hails sounded across the water. After a while the newcomers felt safe in coming ashore and mingling.

Koll had heard of Tosti, both from his earlier doings and his raids this year. A man who had almost gotten King Hadding killed was worth knowing. With all the lawlessness in eastern England, pickings were becoming lean. Moreover, the settlers were no soft prey. As their burghs grew, so did the numbers they could’ quickly raise to meet unwelcome callers. Koll had thought of seeking to Scotland, thence south along the western shores and maybe over to Ireland. However, those parts were little known to Northmen, and likewise full of hardy warriors.