“We’ve friends who still ought to rest. I’ll not forsake them,” answered the king. “Besides, these folk can ill spare the boats we’d need, even for that short crossing. Nor would it be fitting for me to come in so little and shabby a craft, when I could have better. We’ll wait for a ship, either Bruni’s or one of ours. It cannot be long now.”

“Here sun and stars cross the sky on feet shod with lead.”

“Well, I own to feeling penned too. Let those of us who wish make a trip. I hear of good hunting and hook-fishing northward, where a brook runs down to the sea and woods stand along it clear to its mouth.”

That thought gave cheer. Half a dozen warriors busked themselves and strode off one morning behind the king. Sunshine poured over them. They followed the shore for two days and came to the spot he had in mind. There they made camp, meaning to stay a short while.

This was half a mile inland, beside a freshwater spring. Tide-brackish, the stream rustled among tall beeches and gnarly oaks. Sunlight speckled the shadows beneath them. Between their trunks flashed a gleam off the sea. The clear weather had gone hot, drawing up a smell of herbs to liven the brooding air.

The night did not cool much. After sunrise the heat waxed worse. Men sat as listless as the drooping leaves. The brook made the only sound except for a thin shrilling of mosquitoes. When a dove began to coo off in the woodland deeps it seemed like mockery.

At length Hadding rose. “I’m stifling,” he said. “Who’ll come along down to the strand?”

Nobody wanted to do that, or anything else other than sit and bake. Gunnar and young Svein swapped a look. Unspeaking, they hung swords at hip and took their spears. Safe though the place seemed, they were housecarles of their lords. Their eyes told the rest that they awaited some return for this at some later time.

The three walked off still wordless. At the outflow they left the shade for a hard, cloudless heaven. The tide was low but shingle lay dry and gray to the water’s edge, nor did the strewn yellow-brown kelp shine wet. The sea barely lapped against the land. Light flew back off it, ruthlessly bright. No birds soared above.

“I’m for a swim,” Hadding said. “What of you?”

“I’ll wait under the trees yonder,” said Gunnar. Svein nodded.

“As you like.” Hadding undressed. From the heap of his clothes he took belt and sheath knife. It was merely wont, in this burning emptiness. No man willingly went anywhere unarmed.