“Ah. I was coming to that.” Ulf leaned forward, his hands flat on the table. “It is true, I would take men from your lordship’s household, and some will choose to settle in the islands. But I can offer you something of great value in return. I will leave my shipwrights, my fitters, my sail makers behind when I go. They are expert, my lord: the finest in all Norway. Each vessel they build is better than the last, sleeker, swifter, stronger. That knowledge will be yours to do with what you will. And our settlement will be yours to visit and to use as safe anchorage for any longships you may choose to build. From such a vantage point, a force of warriors might journey with speed and ease to shores they say are rich with plunder: southward to the lands of the Saxon, southwest to isles dotted with Christian temples, whose altars groan with fine silver and jeweled reliquaries. To put it simply, my lord, I’m presenting you with a great opportunity, if you are bold enough to see it. This would give you a unique strategic advantage.”

“If I might speak, my lord?” Eirik rose to his feet, golden hair glinting in the lamplight, wolfskin proud on his broad shoulders. “There are those of us who have known of this plan since early days. Your kinsman here is a fine leader, and his vision both noble and stirring. There are many good men who will want to be part of it: more than he can take, in truth. Supporting this venture would bring you great honor. Not to speak of a very handy base in the west.”

“Mmm.” Magnus was thinking hard.

“And how do you plan to pay for all this?” demanded Thorvald Strong-Arm, scowling at Ulf. “A knarr, a fine longship to be constructed at considerable speed, best breeding stock, the services of expert men? Did you find a hoard of troll silver when you journeyed north?”

Ulf looked at him. “I can pay,” he said quietly. “I have made my decision, and I will leave these shores with or without Jarl Magnus’s blessing. My father is dead. To journey to these isles was his dream, his obsession. On his death, my father’s lands became mine, and I have sold them. I will not return there. It has been a place of much unrest, of strife and sorrow. Now it belongs to another man. And so, I can pay.”

After that, nobody said anything for a while. Eyvind glanced across to the place where Somerled sat, but Somerled was no longer there. Turning back, he caught Margaret’s eye. She looked over to the doorway, back at Eyvind, moved her head a little. The message was clear enough. You’d best go after him, since I cannot.