“The king’s orders,” Olaf said. “Believe me, I don’t like this at all. If there were but one credible voice to speak on your behalf, Eyvind, one unbiased witness whose account could not be challenged, I would demand an extension to the hearing, with time for further evidence to be gathered. As it stands, your case is very weak, son. We can take little account of the testimony of your fellow Wolfskins, bound through old loyalties to speak up in your support. This priest, who was so close to the ear of King Engus, is not an impartial witness. As for your own account, you are a guileless fellow, at times almost too truthful. I think you must prepare yourself for the worst.”

Eyvind bowed his head. “Thank you for your honesty,” he managed through an increasing fog of dizziness. “The priest…can you try to ensure he is released? He is a good man, he has taken a risk to help me, and—”

“Believe me,” Olaf said quietly, “there are times when I would give much to be back in Rogaland. My influence here is far less than you imagine. Go on, now. Take what rest you can.”

Tadhg was saying a prayer. Eyvind heard it in snatches, through the buzzing in his ears and the throbbing in his head. The sound of it was pleasing, something about a shepherd who kept his flock in right ways, leading them to sweet water and green pastures. The words reminded him of Hammarsby, the fair meadows rich with the myriad hues of spring flowers, the sound of Karl whistling as he checked the progress of his thriving new lambs, the clank of a bucket as Thorgerd drew water from the well. He saw his mother sitting on a bench in the sun, her hair pale wheaten-gold under the neat lace-edged cap, and dark Oksana by her side, brow creased as she concentrated on some fine detail of embroidery. Eirik’s small sons played about the women’s feet. It was another life, another world. Tadhg was talking about death now, how the shepherd would lead his lambs safely through its shadow into a place where God himself dwelt, a place where there was no more darkness. Odin’s bones, this headache was fierce indeed. It drove out all hope of reasonable thought.

“Eyvind?” The brother had finished his prayer. His voice came clearly from the cell next-door, which had the same barred door as his own. “Eyvind, is all well with you?”

“Sorry,” Eyvind mumbled, moving closer to the door grille. “My head hurts; my ears are full of noise. Can’t seem to…”