He could not go much farther; he must find the nearest hiding place and seek rest, at least for a little. Before dawn he would move on, and with luck be close to Hafnarvagr tomorrow, close enough to get a message to Eirik somehow, and find help. All day he had observed armed men swarming across the fields in search of him; to go to his brother’s dwelling was impossible. He would need all the stealth he could summon, and all the subtlety that Somerled had always told him a Wolfskin did not have. Perhaps that was what he should be trying to do: to think as Somerled would think, cleverly, cunningly. Somerled had always known how to put a legal argument, setting it out in logical sequence, clearly and wittily; when challenged by the opposition, Somerled could always summon some trick of words, or aim some barb at his adversary in order to extricate himself. Eyvind had never seen him lose. Very well then, he’d need to do something like that. A shiver went through him, for he knew this challenge was near impossible. Without help, it seemed quite beyond him. And to seek help, from his brother or Thord or others such as Brother Tadhg or even Margaret, that was to set those others at grave risk. What if something happened to Eirik, and his brother never returned home to his family in Rogaland? What kind of burden was that to have on your conscience?

Pondering this and trying to ignore the creeping cold, Eyvind marched grimly on in the darkness until he came to a place he recognized. He had come too far to the east, and was close to the great ring of standing stones, set by a narrow neck of land on rising ground. He had walked this way before, in the days when any man might pass freely across this land without fear of sudden ambush. But no man came here by night unless he must. The stones were full of ancient power; all felt the slow dance of spirits weaving around and between these grave giants. Dotting the landscape close by the great circle were earthen mounds, some sealed, some with low entrances leading to darkness. Only a fool would seek shelter in such a howe after sunset; they’d all heard the tales the locals put about, of how a night in there would turn your hair white as snow, and leave you screaming crazy things the rest of your life. Without saying it in as many words, it was made clear these old places were forbidden.