These men may have been his comrades once, but it was clear he was now no more to them than another captive to be harried forward at spear-point. Eyvind did not look back. He set his eyes ahead, northward to Somerled’s hall, blessing each step that took them farther from the place where Nessa still hid in shadows. They had not found her; she was safe for now. He must hope that she could go on alone and complete the mysterious task she had spoken of. At least, now that he was recaptured, there would be no need for Somerled to send warriors out in great numbers scouring the countryside. Nessa had at least some chance of evading the few who would still patrol what had once been the borders of Engus’s kingdom. As for himself, despite the terror of seeing her so close to capture, his heart was whole again: he bore the sweet memory of last night within him, and it seemed to him that talisman had the power to arm him against much. It would be back to the little cell, he supposed, back to the darkness and the company of his own thoughts. So be it; if he must break out again, he would, no matter what guard they set on him. He’d have to let them hold him a few days at least, so Nessa had time to get away, time to do the thing she had to do before his own escape drew forth pursuit once more. Then he would go back to the old plan, to seek out Eirik. Perhaps he would find Nessa again, drawn to her side by whatever ancient power had sent the two of them to find refuge in the selfsame hidden place, on the selfsame night. That could hardly have been chance. If those forces were kind enough to lead him to her again, he would not leave her. He would do all that was in his power to keep her safe from Somerled. Time, that was all he’d need, enough time. As they marched northward, his guards now grimly silent, Eyvind planned it out in his head, imagining the musty outhouse where he’d been locked up before, picturing where they might deploy an increased guard, working out how long he would wait, this time, before making his move, and what path he would follow to come back to the south undetected.

But it seemed they were not taking him to the isolated farm hut that had held him before. The group was passing to the west of that place, skirting wide around the fields that fringed Ulf’s burial mound, then curving northeastward again to make their way straight toward the settlement and Somerled’s hall. Eyvind held his silence. It was clear to him from the disapproving scowls of his escort that useful information was unlikely to be forthcoming. He knew what was in their minds. To defy your chieftain’s orders and turn against your own forces was bad enough. But what sort of warrior surrenders with no resistance at all, merely for the sake of a warm bed and a joint of mutton? Their eyes told him their opinion. He whom they had once admired, envied, even idolized, was now sunk as low in their estimation as a worm beneath the boot heel: lower, even, because of what he had once been. His shame had robbed them of words.