“It’s all right,” Eyvind said, trying to reassure them with his tone, his hands. “I’ll protect you, I promise. I will make sure no harm comes to any of you. I give you my word.” It came to him, as he moved to the front of the line, as he led them forward on the narrow pathway between pools now filling and spilling over, their shawls of weed moving lazily on the flow of the incoming tide, that he could do precisely that. He could guard these folk, he could ensure their farms and their fishing boats were safe, their boundaries secure. He could make it his job to see that these bright-eyed children, who still had laughter somewhere within them after so much terror, grew up strong and brave, wise and glad as their lost fathers and brothers had been. He could teach them to fight. Engus’s warriors had fought bravely, but not well enough. An island people needed to learn how to win even when the enemy had greater numbers. They had to know how to prevail by stealth and skill when the invader had superior weapons. He could teach them that. All they needed was time. All they needed was another chance.

“I will protect you,” Eyvind said again, and although they could not understand his words it seemed they recognized the meaning, for they followed him across, young women in bright tunics now stained with the marks of their slain men’s wounds, children unnaturally quiet, staring at the broad-shouldered figures, who sat so still on their horses there where the spears had fringed the shore. The old women walked more steadily, age perhaps giving them a quicker understanding. They reached the shore. The islanders halted close-grouped by the water’s edge; memory held them in check here where they had been herded like animals under the goading of the Norsemen’s spears. Somerled’s hand still stretched like a dark shadow over this place. It was Eyvind who climbed from the flat stones by the causeway, where he had fallen to Grim’s hammer blow, up to the higher ground, and stood as straight and tall as he could by Jarl Magnus’s horse.

“I’m sorry I disobeyed orders and left the settlement, my lord,” he said quietly. “It was necessary. There was a matter to be attended to which could not wait. It is done now, and I will return to face whatever judgment I must. I—” A wave of dizziness caught him; his words faltered.

“Stupid young fool!” growled Eirik, getting down in a hurry and striding over to grip his brother’s arm in support. “What in Freyr’s name did you think—”