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cheek.
    “I notice there’s only one piece,” Bjarni said. He splashed cold water on his arms.
    “If she lets me in the loft,” Ulf said, “she’ll let me into the kitchen.”
    Bjarni stooped over the bucket and scooped water onto his face. He scrubbed himself and dried himself and combed his hair and his beard. He was of a mind to stay here until he heard more about the Bishop and the war; but Ulf and Gudrun were adding to the risks of that. He took a clean shirt out of his sea-chest and put it on.
    “I am going to the hall,” he said. “Are you coming?”
    Jon and Andres rounded on him, their eyes wide, and spoke at once. “You are mad. Do you like being beaten?” Andres said, “They are all sinners.”
    Bjarni shrugged. He left the sleeping booth. The sun had set. Streaks of red and orange lay across the sky; in the east, the night had come. A cold wind touched his cheek. The boardwalk resounded under the feet of the streams of men on their way to the hall. The little waves of the cove lapped on the shore. The water was dark as death. The longships slapped and creaked at their moorings. His eyes fastened on a high coiled prow, black against the ruddy sky. The beauty stirred his heart. All his life he had heard of such ships, of the glory of the men who sailed them. Maybe in those earlier days the men had been different. He saw nothing glorious in Sigurd’s men, falling as soon as he hit them so that another could take the fight. He went up the boardwalk toward the crowded hall.
    He ate; he drank beer; he found someone to play chess with him. While he was studying a difficult position Sigurd called him to the High Seat.
    “Tell your brother to leave off courting my daughter,” Sigurd said.
    The table’s breadth was between them, littered with food and cups. Bjarni set his hand on it. He said, “I don’t see that she objects.”
    “I object,” Sigurd said. He waggled his finger at Bjarni. “You do something about it. Then come back. I have some work for you and your ship.”
    Bjarni went down the hall. The door was open and he stepped past the men coming through it, out to the evening air. A mist was rising out of the damp grass. Off to his left, halfway down the boardwalk to the beach, was the Christian temple, and Ulf and Gudrun were sitting on the porch together. Bjarni went down to them.
    “Come over here a moment,” he said to Ulf.
    They went a few yards down the boardwalk. Bjarni said, “Her father just spoke to me about you and this girl.”
    “Oh? Is he talking about a dowry?”
    “No, he wants me to tell you to leave her alone.”
    Ulf grunted. He put his hands on his hips. “Damn him. No. Tell him I have not trifled with her. Tell him—” His face worked. “Tell him I will marry her.”
    “He also has some work for Swan . After I have told you to leave his daughter alone.” Bjarni turned his eyes down the dark slope. The mist blurred the shapes of the longships on the water.
    “He is ready to attack the Bishop,” Ulf said. “Maybe he will use us as a scout.” He glanced to either side. A file of men trampled past them, dividing to go by them on the plank walk. Under his breath, Ulf said, “I can see Gudrun in secret.”
    “I am not telling you to leave her,” Bjarni said. “I do not take his orders. Go tell our crew to load their chests into the ship.”
    Ulf grinned at him. “You are a very stubborn man.”
    “We will be in some trouble before long,” Bjarni said. He went back to the hall.
    After an hour or so had passed Sigurd called to him again. He went up before the High Seat.
    “Is your ship ready to sail?” Sigurd said. “You will take one of my pilots here with you and sail south with a message for the Bishop.”  
    “You are going too fast,” Bjarni said. “We have not agreed yet on the terms of our partnership.”
    “Partnership! Listen, Bjarni Hoskuldsson. This is the agreement. You will do as I say, and take the share everyone takes, and you will do it