Somewhere within Eyvind’s mind the pieces of the puzzle locked together, and gave him an answer that turned him cold with horror. “You’re saying he plans to attack Engus tonight? That he has already gone to the Whaleback?”

The two guards nodded. “Just our luck,” observed one, “to score sentry duty. Still, someone has to keep an eye on the womenfolk. There might be a few more of them by tomorrow; some of those island girls aren’t half bad, though they’re on the scrawny side. I wouldn’t say no, given the chance.”

“You’ve time to get there, Wolfskin,” said the other. “Low tide’s just before dawn; that’s when he’ll move in.”

Now Eyvind’s heart was thumping like a deep warning drum. Miraculously his head cleared and his mind began to work fast, faster than it had ever done before. “Who is here?” he demanded. “Thord? My brother?”

The sentries shook their heads. “Still in Hafnarvagr, the two of them. Somerled never called them in.”

No help to be had there. Very well, he must cast wider. “What about Lady Margaret?”

“Gone away. Somerled sent her off to stay on one of the farms, with her woman and a couple of guards. Safer, he reckoned.”

There was no time to ponder the oddity of that. It seemed to Eyvind quite obvious that the safest place was the settlement itself; besides, did not Margaret have a role to play as a leader of this community? Never mind that. She wasn’t here; there was nobody else he might approach for help.

“I must go,” he muttered more to himself than to the guards. “I must be there before he advances on the Whaleback. It seems Somerled does not know these folk are in mourning. King Engus’s sister died today: a royal princess. Tonight the king’s people will be gathered for the solemn ritual of farewell. To attack at such a time is against all the rules of right engagement; truce in time of funeral rites is understood and respected even between the bitterest of enemies. Besides, didn’t Somerled say he would await King Engus’s reply before he attacked? Wasn’t that supposed to be the first day of spring?”

The older guard’s eyes narrowed. “Where have you been?” he asked sharply. “Who have you been speaking to?”

“Maybe we should take you in to answer some questions,” said the other. “Somerled doesn’t like that kind of talk.”

Eyvind’s hand moved to where Biter was slung on his back; his fingers curled around the handle. “Have you forgotten everything you learned among Ulf’s fighting men?” he asked quietly. “Have you forgotten the very principles of combat? These folk will be weary, distressed, ill equipped to put up even a rudimentary defense. To mount an attack at such a time is an act of barbarism; it would be like mowing down a group of children.”

“New place, new rules,” grunted the older guard.