“I am king here,” Engus said. “These grievances are brought before me, and I am the sole arbiter. Such ill-doing is rare among my people. In the end, we are all subject to the old powers.”

The Thing began. There were but two cases to be heard, and both of them trifling. One of the knarr’s crew said another man had stolen a fine woolen cloak, a knife, and a sack of dried beans from his sea chest. They had come to blows over it. The second man accused the first of giving him a black eye and half blinding him; he’d never be the same again, he added piteously. Each had appointed Somerled to speak for him. It was unheard of that one man should represent both parties in a legal dispute, but Somerled did so with a dazzling display of wit and humor. By the end of it, everyone was bent double with laughter, including the two litigants themselves. The judges did not take long to reach a verdict, finding some merit on both sides, and some culpability. In the absence of any wealthy kin, Ulf offered to replace the cloak and knife, but not the beans, and he volunteered the services of his own physician to give the second fellow a look over and cure him if he could. The case was pronounced closed. They paused to take a meal.

Then there was a wrangle over a woman: more tricky, this, since she was one of Engus’s folk. Two of the men had taken a fancy to her, and each claimed she’d given a promise of marriage. The judges sought Engus’s advice. Engus suggested the girl be packed off home to her father on Sandy Island, and the fellows left to cool their heels awhile. With some reluctance they clasped hands and agreed, and that was the day’s business over. But Ulf was not finished. He stood to address the assembled people. Eyvind had not been concentrating. He was keeping an eye on the weapons, making sure none disappeared before their owners came to claim them. Then, suddenly, he realized what Ulf was telling them.

“This plague has tried King Engus’s folk very hard. They have lost many good souls, and are ill prepared for the winter. And they say the season here is harsh indeed: the wind a scourge, the seas merciless. The nights are very long. That is why I have decided thus. Our ships will winter over here in the islands. We will not send them back until after spring seeding. For it seems to me the need is great here. If all of us remain, we can support and aid these good folk who have so generously allowed us to make their home our own.”

Eyvind’s heart seemed to shrink down to a hard chip of ice. He had waited so long, all this time, and now, to be told this—it could not be endured. He had promised Jarl Magnus. He had promised Thor. Signe was expecting him. How could Ulf do this? It was as if he had no control over his own life anymore.