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.

With time on his hands, Eyvind observed. He saw that Ulf was much away. At first he was establishing boundaries, planning houses and a hall, negotiating the purchase of stock and supplies. Later, he seemed to spend a great deal of time with Engus’s translator, the Christian priest. Tadhg was a slightly built, harmless-looking fellow. Nobody took his ideas seriously; nobody, that is, except Ulf. Ulf found them interesting. Indeed, he found them so interesting he would be gone for days at a time, traveling to that island where the fellow and his followers lived a life of privation and solitude, quite happy to exist on a fish or two, a broth of boiled seaweed, and a day shaped by prayer. Each time Ulf returned from these sojourns he was quieter and more remote. His dark features began to assume the same serenity of expression as one could see in the eyes of the translator. Folk started to talk, and the talk was uneasy. Surely their chieftain would not abandon the old gods? Was it possible that Ulf, whom they so admired and respected, might turn against Odin? It could not be so. Still, the whispers continued.