Halfdan, who was once a thrall here on this estate, have met him, have fought beside him, and even saved his life. The Norns are weaving a strange and twisted fate for you, that is for certain."
I agreed with Gudrod about that.
"The jarl's men said Ragnar gave you a name—Strongbow—after that battle," Gudrod continued. "Strongbow," he repeated. "It has a good sound."
Just then, Einar came out of the longhouse. Seeing us, he walked over to where Gudrod and I were standing.
"Jarl Hastein is inside," he said, nodding back over his shoulder in the direction from whence he'd come, "talking with all of the warriors who came here with us," It was something I already knew. "He says you and he wish to pursue Toke. He is asking who is willing to join him on the voyage."
"And how goes it?" I asked.
Einar shrugged. "It was a long and hard campaign we fought down in Frankia. I do not know about the jarl's men, but the men of my village all wish to return home. They will not be joining you."
I did not blame them. This was not their fight, and they had been too long away from their homes and families. At least in Frankia, they had won treasure to bring back with them. But as Ivar had said, there was not likely to be any profit won on this voyage.
"I, of course, am coming with you," Einar continued. "You are as true and brave a man as I have ever known, and a fine comrade." He grinned. "Besides, this is my fight, too. Toke and his men killed my kinsman, Ulf."
Einar's words touched my heart. I had never had such a friend in my life. "Thank you," I said.
Gudrod had been watching our exchange in silence. "So you know Halfdan well?" he asked. "I knew him as a boy, but he is much changed since I last saw him."
"Aye, I know him well," Einar answered. "He is a rare killer, to be sure."
Einar's words embarrassed me, and jarred my memory, too. He had called me that the first time we met. Then, it had troubled me. And even in Frankia, the faces of men I had killed had sometimes haunted my dreams, and disturbed my sleep. But now? The dead were dead. The faces of those I had killed no longer visited me when I slept. I did not think myself as particularly "rare"—none of Hastein's warriors were hesitant to kill, if the need arose—but it was certain a killer I had become. The fate the Norns had woven for me had seen to that.
Einar, loquacious as ever, was still talking. "There was one time, down in Frankia, when our army needed to cross a river at night without the Franks realizing we were moving. The Franks had placed sentries to watch us from the forest along the river's banks. Halfdan and I went into the woods alone to clear them, but there was one we could not get close to. He saw us, and tried to flee. It was nighttime, mind you, almost pitch black in the shadows under the trees."
Einar paused and tapped his finger against the center of his forehead. "Halfdan put an arrow right here. One shot, in the dark, and put him down."
I felt embarrassed for certain, now. Gudrod looked impressed, though.
* * *
The day was beginning to fade when I finally returned to the longhouse. I'd left Einar and Gudrod hours before, although they'd hardly noticed my leaving. Gudrod had been eager to hear more about the campaign down in Frankia, and Einar was more than happy to oblige a willing listener. I'd walked up the hill to visit the grave mound where the ashes of my mother and Hrorik were buried, and from there had wandered into the forest. These woodlands had been my refuge when I was a boy, and still a thrall. Only here had I felt free. They still felt peaceful to me now. Unlike in Frankia, here I did not have to worry that enemies might be lurking behind every tree. Wandering aimlessly through the trees and sunlit clearings, I lost track of time.
Hastein was seated at the main table when I entered the longhouse. Torvald and the other chieftains were with him. As soon as he saw me, Hastein stood and waved for me to come over.
"I have