For all his farings these past years, he was an awkward seaman. His oars caught crabs, the boat wallowed, water dashed over the side and sloshed about his feet, he grunted and puffed. Though Hadding had farther to go, the king got there first. He rode the surf neatly into the shoals, sprang out, hauled his craft up, and made it fast by its anchor. The breakers capsized Tosti’s. He was within his depth, but staggered as billow after billow brawled over his head. Hadding waded out, caught his arm, and helped him to land.

Tosti stood gasping and snorting. Brine rivered through the rings of his byrnie. Nonetheless he had been quick to draw sword and unsling the shield on his shoulders. Hadding kept aside. The sea drummed and foamed. Sunshine baked tang from kelp. The sand sheened dark here and glittered higher up where it rose into dunes. Gulls soared, dipped, mewed.

Tosti glowered. “Did you mean for me to drown?”

Hadding shrugged. “I’d not have been too sorry. But I’ve looked forward to feeding you, myself, to my seafowl.”

“How did you know of me?”

“Did you think I’d forget about a troll like you? I rewarded whoever brought me news of your whereabouts and misdeeds. When I learned you’d gone to England, I sent trusty men there to find out what they could. When word came that you were linked with that Koll, it seemed likely you’d be back to irk us anew, and I sent still more spies out. When you bragged that this year you’d be going, word got around, and a swift ship sought home to me. True, I couldn’t foresee where you’d come, but I lay here at the Skaw later than I otherwise would have, in hopes.” Hadding grinned. “Hopes fulfilled. The Father of Victories shall have a big thank-offering when you and I are through.”

“Yes, I’ll give him you.”

“He’ll pick which of us he wants, though I should think he’d kick you down to Helheim. Are you ready?”

Tosti yowled, stepped forward, and struck. Hadding’s blade met his in midflight. Iron clanged, sparks flew.

Hadding kept his shield high, squinting over it, shifting it the least bit to and fro as he saw a blow coming. Some hit his mail or helmet, but did not cut the metal. Tosti hewed like a woodman. He was younger, he did not limp, he would wear his foe down. Hadding tried for neck, arms, legs, but drew scant blood. Mostly he saved his strength while he fell slowly back, up the slope of the strand.

Tosti bellowed and banged.