Eyvind had hoped Ulf’s building plans might include a temple. That way at least the rituals might be observed, the sacrifices made. That way at least Thor might understand this was temporary, an exile imposed purely by a quirk of Somerled’s thinking. Soon enough, both longship and knarr would be on the way back to Rogaland, and Eyvind and Eirik would be going home: home to the Jarl’s court, home to a life of honor and pride, serving the god with axe and sword. But Ulf had built no temple, and there were no rituals. Eyvind was obliged to call on Thor as best he could from lonely shore or desolate rock or open field. I am your right hand! Do not forget me!

Others were of different mind. Hakon had lost no time at all. Perhaps he could not hear so well anymore, but that had not slowed his other faculties. With remarkable promptness, he had moved out of Ulf’s settlement and into the isolated cottage of a comely young widow with two small sons. And, Eirik commented with a grin, by the look of the widow’s burgeoning figure, another infant was already on the way. Hakon looked as sleek and content as a well-fed cat. They took wagers on who’d be next to move out; Thord was top of the list. His lively slave girl had him wrapped around her little finger, and it was common knowledge that she preferred her man to be close to home, where she could keep an eye on him. It wouldn’t be long before this battle-scarred warrior succumbed to her coaxings and put aside his sword in favor of a plow or fishing net.

It shocked Eyvind that a Wolfskin might change thus, as if Thor’s call no longer inspired him. The islands had done that. They had woven a kind of magic that made men forget who they were and what vows they were bound by.

There had been work of a sort. At first, Ulf had maintained a personal guard: two close by him, two more at a slight distance, others carefully placed to observe. But there had been no attacks, no plotting, no threats. There was nothing to see but a summer of cooperation and hard labor on the land. Now Ulf had all but dispensed with his Wolfskins’ services, saying he had an agreement with King Engus, and there would be no need for fighting until such time as they might stand side by side with the islanders against some common enemy. He posted Eirik in the south to oversee the maintenance of the ships, and to ensure all was well with those who had remained there. The crew of the knarr had not joined Ulf’s settlement, but sat out the summer months among the fisherfolk who dwelt near that peaceful anchorage, which Ulf had named Hafnarvagr, haven bay. In the north, Erlend and Grim and the others were as often found shifting stones or cutting heather for thatch as sharpening their weapons and rehearsing the moves of combat.