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stolen and not returned, though it worked out badly for him — but that's another story.'
    Men grinned as they pulled, for the winter seemed to promise some good Iceland tales round the fire.
    Finn left off with his watering and came closer to listen.
    Onund grunted and went on. 'He also took Thord and as they were heading towards the steading, in the dark and cautious, he suddenly handed Thord his favourite blue cloak. For friendship he said, against the cold. Then they were attacked by three men and Thord ran, as he always did — but the attackers saw the cloak and thought it was Gisli.

    'They hurled their spears and one went through Thord's back and out the other side. Then Gisli, who had spotted the men lying in wait for him, came out of hiding and killed them all, now that they had only seaxes.'
    'Seems like a fair fight to me,' Finn growled and Onund shrugged, which was a fearsome sight.
    'So others say,' he replied, 'but I thought it a mean trick on a helpless and faithful nithing, and one which brought no honour to Gisli, who was already lacking in that richness for many other reasons, not least his easy Christ-signing. So I left his boat unfinished and came here.'
    'Others have signed to the White Christ,' Finn argued and Onund, who knew well that Finn, among others of the Oathsworn, had done that once, nodded, considering.
    'I know it. The Englisc and others west of Jutland are nearly all Christ-followers now and will not trade with those who are not,' he growled. Tor all that, it is no honourable thing to throw off your gods, even for a little time, just for silver.'
    'To be without silver is better than to be without honour,' Red Njal agreed sombrely, tucking himself back into his breeks and moving back to his bench. Finn, mired in an argument he felt he was losing, glared at him.
    'Before you mention her,' he snarled, 'let me just say that your old granny should have remembered the oldest saw of all — a tongue cut out seldom gossips.'
    Red Njal pursed his lips with sorrow, shaking his head. 'There is only mingled friendship when a man can utter his whole mind to another,' he countered. 'You have my granny to thank for that and my forbearance.'
    'Never trust the words of a woman,' Finn intoned, 'for their hearts were shaped on a wheel.'
    'With his ears let him listen, with his eyes let him look —so a wise man spies out the way,' Red Njal spat back.
    'Shut up, the pair of you,' shouted Kvasir, which brought a brief spasm of throaty chuckles.
    It was there, basking in that glow of being on a fine, new ship with the only true family I knew and aware that I was enjoying it, that I felt the breath of Odin, a sharp chill that shuddered me, made me turn to where the antlered prow beast snarled.
    The grey-green sea was the same and the gloomed blue of the land — but now there was a dark stain on part of it and the evil wink of a single red eye.
    I stared, trying to make sense of it, until Finn shoved his spray-dusted beard inches from my cheek and did it for me. 'Smoke and fire,' he said. 'Hestreng.'
    I was still grasping at the swirling leaves of my thoughts when he turned back to where the men bent and pulled. 'Row, fuck your mothers!' he roared. 'Our hall is burning.'
    We hauled hard, creaming the Fjord Elk up and over the waves, pounding her into the shore, while those not rowing fixed helmets, checked thonging and studied the edge of blades for sharpness.
    The panic in me was a spur that kept me pacing like a caged dog from mastfish to prow beast and back, until Kvasir smacked the flat of his blade on my helmet, hard enough to ring some sense into me.
    He did not have to speak at all, but I met him eye to eye and nodded my thanks. His grin was hard-eyed and I remembered, with a start, about his wife, Thorgunna, as well as Botolf, Ingrid and Aoife and all the others. Like a fret of swirling wind, the thoughts circled in me. Who? Who would dare?
    There was no answer to it. We had more enemies than friends, like