“Maybe forty, perhaps fifty,” Finan growled as we spurred the horses on frost-hardened ground.

“At least he’s not in the Roman fort,” I said. I had feared Arnborg might have occupied the old fort that lay well inland, but it seemed, from what we had heard, that Arnborg liked to be close to the Ribbel’s estuary so that his ships could slip out to sea where rich cargoes could be captured.

Twenty men did not sound like a fearsome enemy, but their advantage was that they could shelter behind their palisade, and though that wooden fence might not be as formidable as Bebbanburg’s great ramparts, it would still be a daunting obstacle, which is why we rode hard and fast. If the defenders knew we were coming they could prepare, but if we appeared suddenly and unexpectedly then half of them would be in the hall, warming themselves by the hearth. We followed a well-beaten track that curved around the Ribbel’s numerous channels. We crossed salt marshes, threaded reed beds, and all around us the shorebirds called and flew away in great flocks. No one could miss the sight of those thousands of white wings filling the sky, so Arnborg’s men would know someone was moving on the estuary’s bank, but why would they suspect an enemy?

Our horses’ hooves smashed the cat ice where the track forded a shallow creek. Serpent-Breath was bouncing at my hip, while the shield on my back thumped rhythmically against my spine. We climbed a long shallow slope topped by a thick windbreak of willow and alder, ducked under low branches, and cantered out into the thin sunlight again, and there was Arnborg’s steading, just as Fritha’s people had described it.

It was a shrewd place to make a hall. One of the many creeks of the Ribbel curved here, and the water protected two sides of the high palisade. Three ships were moored in that creek, tied to a timber wharf that lay on the northern side of Arnborg’s steading, which stretched southward by at least sixty paces. Inside the wall were the roofs of a hall and a cluster of other buildings; barns, stables, and storehouses. The one gate I could see was on the southern side, and it was closed. A flag hung above the gate, but in that morning’s windless air it was impossible to see any badge or symbol on the cloth. There had to be a fighting platform beside the gate because two spearmen stood there, both just gaping at us for the moment. I waved to them, hoping the gesture would convince them we were friends, but I saw one turn and shout back into the steading.

There were two ways to capture a walled steading. The first and easiest was to show the defenders by how many they were outnumbered and promise that they would live if they surrendered. It usually worked, but I knew I would probably have to fight for this hall. Arnborg was a warrior and a leader of warriors, and we knew he had left a garrison to defend his home, and that suggested they would rather fight than betray their lord’s trust. So fight we would, but if we were to fight, I wanted it to be quick. “Berg!” I called. “You know what to do! So do it!”