“Perhaps you have forgotten that it was I who descended the cliff to retrieve your brother’s body,” Eyvind said. “I would have returned this, but I forgot. Then I was…away. You recognize these knots, don’t you? They are not my work, and so they must be your own. Perhaps, that long morning, you watched your brother die as once you relished the slow torture of the rabbit in the snare. What will your men think of their fine leader when they know that? What will they think when they learn it was you who ordered the burning that killed Hakon and his family? There’s a certain cleverness about that, the setting up of crimes so you can blame your enemy for them. That makes it much easier to turn the tide of opinion against him. No wonder these men hate, no wonder they long to sink sword in flesh, hew head from shoulders. Those killings have your mark on them. I have known you a long time, and I recognize it plainly. Call off the attack, Somerled. Call it off now, and I will keep silence. It is another chance for you, a chance to set your feet on the right way.” He looked into his friend’s dark eyes, and saw the same eyes staring back: intense, single-minded, as a thin, pale boy dragged his injured companion to safety down the impossible slopes of the hillside at Hammarsby. Surely that spark of goodness, of greatness, was still there, deep down. Surely such promise did not wither and die. Somerled had shown him kindness as a child and friendship as a man, for all his odd ways. Surely he must listen now.

Somerled’s fingers closed around the buckle. He slipped it in his pocket. “Not very good at this, are you, Eyvind?” he said. “I keep waiting for you to surprise me with some piece of cleverness and it never happens. I have to say your disloyalty makes me very uneasy. It wouldn’t have something to do with the company you’ve been keeping, would it? I did hear your ghost was spotted at the site of a certain hovel on the barbarians’ land. They say some sort of old crone used to live there before my men put the torch to her sorcery. And there’s another little witch too, a comely young one with quite a head on her, and a fiery temper. I met her recently. She was remarkably fluent in our language, and I did wonder just how she had managed that, her uncle being generally so reluctant to have her on show. An impressively forthright young woman. I liked her.”

“Uncle?” Eyvind echoed as the light brightened in the hut around them, and sounds of scraping metal and booted feet on the move increased outside.