Somerled nodded. “Would you be content,” he asked, “if this were all you left behind you for folk to remember? A few markings high on a tree, the only sign that you lived your span in the world?”

Eyvind stared at him, not sure he understood. “No, of course not,” he said. “I hope I will be remembered, for a little at least, as a brave man, one who served Thor and fought for the Jarl with as much courage and skill as he could. I would like to be remembered for that. What about you?”

Somerled said nothing. He stared ahead of him, his expression unreadable.

Suddenly Eyvind was impatient. “Odin’s bones, Somerled,” he said, “what is it you want? To please your brother? To go on this voyage with him? To forget him and go your own way? One thing is certain: you have lost the strong will you showed as a boy, when first we sat here together, and you helped me make my name on the wood. I thought then you were a man who could do whatever he wanted, and you made it clear what you would be. But now, you seem to me—lost.” The flow of words ceased. Eyvind waited for the scathing response. No doubt Somerled would tell him to stop trying to think, since he was so bad at it. But Somerled remained silent.

“Somerled?” Eyvind ventured after a while. “I hope I didn’t offend you. I want to help, if I can.”

“You can’t help. Nobody can. Shall I explain it to you? Ulf doesn’t want me to go. He wishes to be rid of me. And he’s right. I dislike voyages of discovery, I don’t enjoy getting cold and wet, the idea of living in some outpost surrounded by savages doesn’t appeal at all. But my brother’s voyage was purchased with what was mine. I should go. He owes it to me to let me go.”

“I doubt if he’s even aware you want to,” Eyvind said carefully. “Have you asked him?”

“I don’t need to ask. He will not take me.”

Eyvind thought for a moment. “What about Margaret?” he ventured. “Couldn’t she speak to him on your behalf—”

“I’ve not yet fallen so low that I need some woman to plead my case,” Somerled snapped. “Besides, it’s pointless. Ulf makes it clear I am to remain behind. The ties of kinship are nothing to him.”

He was scratching on the tree trunk with his knife blade again. The image of a small ship appeared below the runes: striped sail bellying in the wind, oars moving as one. Eyvind watched and said nothing.

In the morning they left Hammarsby and rode back to court. Eirik was not his cheerful self, and Eyvind asked his brother what ailed him.