“You heard the man,” the king said mildly. “Only two can make this knot. That may or may not be true, of course; who’s to say I did not teach others my invention? Eyvind has no monopoly on my friendship, for all we are blood brothers. Let us say I did not do so. Let us say this secret skill is shared only by the two of us. Now think of the manner of Ulf’s killing. A fit, able man, desperate to survive—did not Eyvind say Ulf fought against his bonds so hard that he caused his own mortal injury? What kind of killer could have brought about Ulf’s murder in such a manner, tying him, moving him some distance probably, stuffing his mouth with weed to silence him, suspending him from the clifftop in the most perilous of places? Didn’t someone mention that would take a man of exceptional strength? So, we narrow our field of suspects down to one who can make the knot, and who also possesses physical prowess somewhat beyond that of an ordinary warrior. While I wouldn’t mind claiming the latter for myself, my friends, all of you know my own skills in feats of strength are adequate rather than outstanding. Eyvind’s a different matter. If you had asked our people on the island, last summer, who among us was foremost in bodily strength and skill, every single one of them would have named this man you see before you. Eyvind, old friend, I’m afraid your stunning piece of evidence has done nothing but point the finger straight at yourself.”

“But—” Eyvind began, appalled that such a cruelly twisted version of events could come from the lips of a man who, not long ago, had professed the deepest friendship for him. Curse it, man, I can’t do without you. All the arbiters were staring at him now; he saw in their eyes shock, disgust, stunned realization. Only on Olaf Sveinsson’s shrewd features did he recognize a shadow of doubt. It was to Olaf he spoke now in shaking tones.

“My lord, this is nonsense. What reason could I possibly have had to kill Ulf? I respected the man, I thought him a fine leader.”

“Heard you grumbling often enough about how you couldn’t wait to get home,” put in the knarr’s captain. “Cursing the idle days—a waste of time, I think you said once.”

“Maybe I was bored. That doesn’t make me a murderer,” Eyvind said. “Besides, I slept by my brother and the others that night. I could not have carried out the deed.”

“He’s right.” Heads turned; Erlend had stepped forward at the bottom of the hall. His blunt features were tight with unease. “Holgar and I lay close to Eyvind that night in the mist. It was cold enough to freeze your bollocks off. None of us slept longer than a snatch at a time. Eyvind couldn’t have gone away without our knowing it. It wasn’t possible.”