The hall blazed with light. For all it was so late, perhaps close to the first predawn brightening of the sky, few had gone to their beds. Ale cups clinked, platters were strewn on the tables, and a litter of mutton bones and crusts of bread showed a repast had been taken with enthusiasm. There were forty or fifty men assembled there, most of the complement of Somerled’s household, and a few women as well. The arbiters had returned. They were not seated calmly at their table now, but stood behind it, their expressions ranging from mild surprise to complete disbelief as they stared at the small group of travelers who had entered through the great rear doors and now stood waiting quietly in the middle of the hall. As Eyvind was dragged forward to the place immediately before Somerled’s chair, he looked back down the hall and straight into Margaret’s furious, dark eyes. Two burly guards flanked her, with hands poised on sword hilts; others stood behind. They were facing outward: her own protective force, then, not some warders set to confine her.

“My lady,” Eyvind managed, not understanding at all what was happening, but seeing in her wan features a shadow of something deeply reassuring. It was, he thought, the quality that Ulf had possessed in abundance, and which Somerled had never been able to grasp: the understanding of what was right. He could hear Tadhg’s labored breathing; the little brother stood close by him, a guard at his elbow as if he, too, were on trial here.

“These men have been beaten.” Margaret’s tone was crisp and challenging. “I thought you said Eyvind was being held, awaiting a verdict. He’s bleeding. The priest is covered in bruises. Has it come to this, that we set thugs on our prisoners now, instead of observing basic rules of fair play? I am ashamed to see this, ashamed for myself, and ashamed for Ulf, who always sought to carry out his responsibilities in a manner befitting a chieftain of Rogaland. What has come over you? Olaf? Harald? How could you condone such a blatant misuse of authority?”

Feet shuffled; throats were cleared. Somerled had moved up close to Eyvind, in front of the table. He, it seemed, was not afraid to respond.