Eyvind stood very still. His head was clear now, though the light that flared suddenly down the hallway—a torch? a lantern?—seared his eyes. He waited, poised for the moment of attack. The shackled feet could be used to advantage, if he were quick enough. He judged by the steps that there were five or six men. They did not believe him quite as weakened as rumor had suggested, then. It seemed his reputation was not entirely lost. He paced his breathing in readiness, slow, steady, each inhalation a gathering of strength. They would unbar the door, and possibly goad him out with clubs or sticks, and those waiting outside would likely use staves to topple him. Then it would be a beating, savage and quick. They wanted no noise. No evidence. That sounded familiar. Very well, he would make as much noise as he possibly could before they silenced him. If Grim heard him, if Erlend or Holgar recognized his voice, they might come. If Olaf Sveinsson knew bloody murder was taking the place of justice here, surely he would intervene, whatever his fear of Somerled.

The men were coming closer, their attempt at covert approach ludicrously inept. Clearly these were seamen or laborers, not warriors and hunters. Eyvind waited for the hands on the grille, the creak of his cell door opening. But the door that opened was Brother Tadhg’s, and the sound that rang out in the silence of the dark prison was that of a blow, and a gasp of pain and shock as the priest was hurled against the stone wall. He heard Tadhg’s voice, breathless and uneven, reciting words Eyvind had heard before, though he did not understand them.

“Pater noster qui es in coelis—” The prayer broke with another wrenching indrawn breath, then resumed again, threadier now but full of determination. “—sanctificetur nomen tuum…fiat voluntas tua…aagh…”

“Stop it!” Eyvind yelled in outrage, fists now gripping the bars of his cell, face pressed to the grille, straining to see. “Stop that at once! Have you lost all shred of decency, that you assault a priest who is guilty of no crime but honesty? Leave that man alone, or in Thor’s name I’ll have the bars off this cage and make bloody mincemeat of every last one of you!” He rattled the bars, and felt a red heat rising in him, a fierce grimace contorting his features. “It’s me you’re supposed to kill, you godforsaken apologies for men, not him! Let him go at once!”

He could not see Tadhg, but he heard the blows. The halting prayer went on, in his own tongue now.

“…though death overshadow me…yet you lead me forth in the darkness…you are…you are my strength and comfort…you…”

Odin’s bones, they would kill the brother right here before him; he thought he could hear ribs cracking. He could not allow this. Thor must not allow it.