“‘But my money is gone,’ Niall said ruefully. ‘My silver, all that I had saved—those ruffians took it. Now I have nothing.’

“‘You have a friend,’ Brynjolf grinned. ‘And—let me see—perhaps not all is lost.’ He made a play of hunting here and there, in his pockets, in his small knapsack, in the folds of his cloak, until at length, ‘Ah,’ he exclaimed, and drew out the goatskin pouch that held Niall’s carefully hoarded silver. Brynjolf shook it, and it jingled. ‘This is yours, I think.’

“Niall took the pouch wordlessly. He did not look inside, or count the money.

“‘You wonder why I did not simply keep this?’ Brynjolf queried. ‘When I said you had a friend, I spoke the truth. Let us travel on together. I will teach you a trick or two, for a man with such scant resources will not get far beyond the safe boundaries of the home farm, unless he learns to defend himself.’

“So Niall and Brynjolf became the best of comrades, and on the way to the Jarl’s court they shared many adventures. And they swore an oath, an oath deep and solemn, for each scored his arm with a knife until the blood ran forth, dripping on the earth, and they set their forearms together and swore on their mingled blood that they would be as brothers from that day on. They vowed they would put this bond before all other loyalties, to support one another, to stand against the other’s enemies even until death. This oath they swore in Thor’s name, and the god smiled on them.

“The years passed. Brynjolf joined the Jarl’s personal guard, and acquitted himself with great valor. Niall learned to use the sword and the axe, but he was not cut out to be a warrior. In time, he discovered he had a talent for making verses, and this pleased the Jarl mightily, for men of power love to hear the tales of their own great deeds told in fine, clever words. So, remarkably, Niall became a skald, and told his tales at gatherings of influential men, while his friend journeyed forth with the Jarl’s fleet in spring and in autumn, to raid along the coast of Friesland and Saxony. When Brynjolf returned, they would drink together, and laugh, and tell their tales, and they would pledge their brotherhood anew, this time in strong ale.