“Hadding is himself wise,” Hunding said. “That’s why I think we should ask what he wants for a peace with us. It may be less than what this unending war is costing. Meanwhile, he’ll know any trap for what it is, and stay clear.”

“Not if it’s a kind of which he’s never heard.” Uffi looked around at his redesmen and headmen. “Here is what I have in mind. During this winter, we’ll stack wood everywhere for beacon fires. Come spring, we’ll post fast-riding scouts about the kingdom. Thus we will know where he fares. Between the north end of Gotland and the mainland we’ll keep more ships at sea than he has ever brought with him. If he wants to fight them, good, he’s done for. But likelier he’ll sheer southward.

“Now he’s already picked those shores bare. If he wants to do more harm and take more booty, he must go well inland. Wherever this is, nobody shall withstand him. Men shall keep away, as if frightened of the very sight. Thus he should be drawn ever deeper inward. When he’s come far enough, then the Geats and Swedes shall lay waste the land before him, behind him, and widely around him. Let them fire every barn and grainfield, let them kill whatever livestock they cannot bring with them. No longer shall the Danes live off the land as they’re wont to. Meanwhile I will have hastened south with a picked troop and packhorses well laden with food. Along the way I’ll gather what more warriors I can, and at the end call the shire-levy there to me. The Danes will be weak from hunger. Then will we fall on them.”

“This is unheard of, that a king make war on his own folk!” cried Hunding. The others muttered and growled. But after talking at length they decided it was worth trying, for indeed nothing else had helped.

Summer came again, the sixth of Hadding’s strife with the house of Svipdag. He always sent men ahead to find out what might be waiting for him. Now as he sailed past Öland a small ship, swiftly rowed, came back to warn of a Swedish fleet hove to in the north. His craft were much fewer, and mostly broad-beamed knorrs, better fitted for sail than oars, for carrying men and horses than for getting about nimbly. After he had met with their skippers, he turned around and went back south of the island to a Geatish strand he knew. There he left a skeleton crew in each bottom and struck out northwesterly toward the Svithjod marches.