Ivar was a Norseman of the Nidering kingdom, some five hundred miles by sea from the Skagerrak, whence it was a good two hundred more to Haven. Ships from there seldom called in Denmark. It was a tricky way to go, past countless fjords and holms where vikings often lurked. Norway had no one strong king to put them down. Svipdag had brought together a few small lands in the south but then had gone into Svithjod. There his sons and grandsons had been ever since. Their Norse shires still paid them scot, but had otherwise fallen away from them in all but name. Now thinking of themselves as Swedes, they cared little about yonder poor acres.

Hence goods from farther north mostly went hand to hand, which made them costly in the Danish marts. Nonetheless, from time to time a bold seaman dared the voyage. His cargo of walrus hides and ivory, narwhal tusks, furs, and the like would bring him a rich haul of amber, gold, thralls, Smith-land glass and wine and silk, and other wares that flowed to the Baltic trader towns. Ivar’s knorr, uncommonly big, bore enough of a well-armed crew that few rovers would care to attack. Besides, they were unlikely to spy her. A skilled reader of sun, moon, stars, and waters, he kept well out to sea. Only weather had given him trouble.

This time he brought news of something worse than • robbers.

Coming down through the Sound, he stopped off at Haven. He was bound for Gotland but thought to rest here a short while and maybe do a little business. When he heard the king was at the hall nearby, he took a few of his men and ferried across from the island to pay a call. Hadding gave him the guest-seat of honor and bade the whole band stay the night, or as much longer as they wished. Those two had met before and hit it off well.

Only one hearth fire flamed and smoked, for doors and windows stood open to mild air. Afternoon sunlight streamed in, bright on hangings and metal, soft on graven pillars and wainscots. The noise of household and thorp came low, voices,’ feet, hoofs, wheel-creak, a hammer ringing on an anvil. Well-born women brought beakers of mead to the warriors and sailors on the benches. Beside Hadding sat Gyda, his leman when he was hereabouts, a handsome young woman. Her braids fell fair over red apron panels and pleated white gown; rings on her arms, brooches at her shoulders were of heavy silver. The king was likewise richly clad, in brocaded tunic, blue linen breeks, kidskin cross-garters, and buckskin shoes. A headband with gripping beasts woven into the wool circled his own yellow locks. Others sat quietly and listened while he talked with the skipper.

“Well,” he asked after a while, “how go things in Niderland?”