Shore was well away. This was a heavy freight to tow. But he could rest on it when he needed to. Still full of battle strength, he set forth.

Svein came to him, then Gunnar. They had seen the fight. Straightway they stripped themselves and plunged in. “You worked too fast for us, lord,” panted Svein.

“Well, let’s see how fast you can work for me,” laughed Hadding.

So the warriors brought his catch ashore and, when they were dried and clad, bore it back to camp. The sight pulled men out of their laziness. They cried aloud, they crowded close to touch and pluck. The rainbow sheen was gone from the beast’s hide. It lay there dulled, in a heap, mouth open and dry, eyes open and dim. Yet it was a wonder.

Hadding knew better than to boast overmuch. “It gave me a bit of trouble,” he said. “But now we’ll find out how its flesh tastes, and maybe somebody back in the thorp can tell us what kind of thing this is. Surely it’s unknown to me.”

‘And you have seen more that is eldritch than most men,” breathed Arnulf.

The air was even cooling as the sun went low.

After a while, though, Hadding got a wish to be by himself. More and more he felt that his men were jabbering like magpies, and he wearied of it. More and more did the sight of the dead beast strike him not as splendid but as sad. He could not say why. He thought he would think about it. “I’m going for a stroll,” he told them. “No, stay here, all of you. Make ready the meat. I’m not going far and I’ll be back soon.”

He walked off under the trees. No brush hampered him. Light slanted from the west in among boles and boughs. Again he heard doves, but now it was as if they were sobbing.

He came around a thicket. There stood a woman.

As tall as him she was, slender, a leaf-green gown falling from her shoulders to silvery shoes. A gold ring around her brows and rings around her arms bore the shape of snakes that curl and bite their own tails. Her skin had the blue-shadowy whiteness of snow, her lips were blood red, the hair that tumbled down her back was like a raven’s wing. In a thinly and finely formed face the eyes glowed huge, yellow hawk eyes. She lifted a hand. Hadding jarred to a halt.

She spoke. In camp, too, they heard that steely music.

Sailing the sea or seeking the land,

Henceforth you have the hate of the elves,

And wend where you will, the worst shall befall you

Always on earth and also on shipboard,

Where foul winds follow your frozen sail.

Nor shall you find shelter ashore below roofs.

Weather brings woe, laying waste altogether

The holdings of him who houses you,