“Listen, Eyvind. I’m not going to talk about this openly, not even out here. But you must be careful. You need to watch yourself. Why don’t you come to the anchorage with me? There’s no reason why we shouldn’t both stay there until we can take ship for home.”

Eyvind stared at him. “I couldn’t do that,” he protested. “Somerled needs me. He said once, that when he was…when he was a chieftain, I’d be his main bodyguard, his first Wolfskin. I think I have to do that, Eirik, even if…I think I have to keep my promise. Only until spring. Then I’ll go home.”

Eirik looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Be careful, that’s all. There’s danger all around you, little brother, and you’re not very good at seeing it sometimes. Stay awake; be watchful.”

“I wish you’d explain—”

“Shh. Some things can’t be spoken, not even here. There’s nowhere safe. And I’m all for getting home intact.” He glanced around the remains of the burned-out cottage, the pitiful heap of soil that now blanketed its inhabitants. “This is a cursed place, Eyvind. I never thought to bury my best friend thus, without dignity. And I’ll tell you something. It’s one thing to speak out, as he did. But I’d only to see them lying there, and think of Oksana and the boys, and I knew all that matters to me is getting back safe to Hammarsby. You won’t be hearing much from me before spring, and neither will your friend Somerled Horse-Master.”

The shadow touched Eyvind’s thoughts again, a suspicion, a doubt that could not be allowed to clarify itself, for if it were truth, it would open a yawning abyss before his feet. An oath in blood was binding and lifelong. It did not offer any room for doubt.

Thord had been laying sprigs of greenery on the low mound they had made. Now he came over to them, and Eirik fell silent.

“Farewell then,” Eyvind said. “The gods guard you.”

“You too, little brother,” said Eirik. “Farewell until the springtime.”