His right foot splinted and bound, he mounted his horse and led them northward. He would go the whole way to Uppsala and seize the overlordship of Svithjod and Geatland. Thus would he quell the threat, harvest wealth for those who had been faithful to him, strengthen his Skjoldung house beyond overthrow ever again, and for himself win a name that would live till the end of the world.

Meanwhile Hunding brought Asmund’s body home. He laid it to rest with kingly grave-goods and great offerings to the gods. He also buried his mother, Gunnhild. She chose not to outlive her husband, but fell on his sword. Their son set her down at his side.

Meanwhile, too, his older brother, Uffi, was at work. He did not make the rounds of the shire-Things and get himself hailed king. That could wait until later. He took for given that he was his father’s heir. Nobody cared to say otherwise.

Instead, he fared about raising fresh warriors. Everywhere he harangued the folk, telling them what grief would be theirs unless they did what they must at once In this wise he hammered together a strong troop and led it down to the sea.

Hadding moved north with fire and sword. Seldom did men stand against him. When they did, he overran them easily. But then word reached him, borne by riders who had flogged horse after horse to death. The Swedes were harrying the islands of Denmark, striking inland before they rowed on to the next spot, slaying, looting, burning. Hadding was very newly the Dane-king. If he let this go on, belike his folk would cast him from them.

He could only take his warriors back. As they came down through Scania, Uffi heard. He laughed that he had given enough of a lesson for now, and set course for the Skerrygarth. The Danish host returned to the same havoc they had been wreaking and set about rebuilding.

By then Hadding’s foot was healed. The leech had been unable to set it altogether aright. Ever afterward the king walked with a limp. That did not hamper him much. Sometimes it made him hark back to his foster father’s warning. But he never dwelt long on those words.

XIV

At his hall near Haven, King Skjold had let build a storehouse for his treasures. It stood somewhat apart from the surrounding buildings, close by the stockade. Stoutly timbered, it offered a small but good home in its front half for the hoardkeeper. The treasure room was at the rear, windowless, its only door on the inside, warded by a heavy lock and never opened except at the king’s behest.