his feet and limped toward him. “We are in a whole lot of trouble. Trouble all over. I’ll talk to Hedin for you.”
“Thank you,” Ulfar said. “Thank you very much.”
The fisherman shrugged. “Can’t promise. We’ll see what goes.” With that, he limped away.
Ulfar watched him leave, and then he was all alone on the pier.
Alone and useless.
What was he good for, anyway? Wenching, gaming, and killing. The occasional joke. A deep pressure built inside him, and he felt like he would burst. He tried to swallow, but nothing happened. Panic flared, but as soon as it had come, it was gone again.
Ulfar had to strain to unlock his jaws and open his mouth. Looking around, his eye came to rest on the bucket. The fisherman’s line was tangled up. He thought back on the old men he’d seen threading hooks in Uppsala: they’d been proper, useful men. He sat down on the stone and reached for the line.
“Ow! Bastard,” he exclaimed as a hook buried itself in his index finger.
“Get away from my line,” the fisherman snapped from across the pier. “Took me long enough to sort it.” A portly man waddled up behind him as Ulfar struggled to nudge the hook out of his finger. As it came free, the cold air nipped at the blood. “This is Hedin,” the fisherman said curtly. The two of them made their way slowly toward Ulfar, the old horse, and the fisherman’s seat.
“Well met, Hedin,” Ulfar said as he rose, finger and cheeks throbbing.
Hedin fixed him with dull, sunken eyes. “What do you want?”
“Passage,” Ulfar said.
“You can’t afford it,” Hedin snapped as he looked him over with a practiced eye.
Ulfar offered his most winsome smile. This was a game he knew. “Not only can I afford it, but my father, Alfgeir Bjorne, would probably be very grateful to anyone who ferried me across.” Behind him, the sailor lowered himself back down onto his rock and muttered a curse, but Hedin’s expression changed immediately as the merchant put on what Ulfar assumed must be his charming face. The effect was not pleasant.
“Of course. And we’ll settle the fare—”
“When I am across. My father didn’t raise a fool.”
“Of course. Of course.” Hedin wrung his hands and squeezed out a sickly smile, and Ulfar’s insides lurched. For a moment he was swimming in sludge, sitting outside himself and watching as he stepped in, grabbed the merchant by the hair, kicked his legs from under him, smashed the man’s nose on the pier, and hammered his head down onto the planks again and again until he stopped screaming, stopped moving, kept bleeding silently. The sensation was so powerful that he had to swallow the vomit rising from the center of him. It felt like something was scraping his insides—something hard and cold.
“—but we can see to that. Maybe a rug or something to keep you warm. Not free, of course. Nothing is, these days. And when would you like to leave?”
Ulfar blinked. “What?”
“When would you like to leave?” Hedin gazed up at him, greed and grease lining his features.
“Early tomorrow morning,” he stammered.
“Of course. Very good. We will meet here,” Hedin said. “That’s my knarr over there,” he added, and pointed to a well-worn trading bucket. Memories of cold, wet journeys washed over Ulfar, and he forced a smile.
“Tomorrow morning. Farewell, Hedin.”
“Of course. Yes.” Hedin saluted and left.
A couple of moments passed.
“Want me to look after the royal mount?” the fisherman said. Ulfar turned to stare at him, but the weathered face remained studiously neutral. “For when you come back this way?”
“Yes . . . Yes, do that. He’s good for decent work,” Ulfar said.
The fisherman’s attention was back on his line. “Tie him up by the shed; I’ll feed him tomorrow morning.”
The road caught up to him. Without a word, Ulfar tethered the horse, patted him down, and wandered off in search of somewhere to sleep.
WEST COAST OF SWEDEN
LATE OCTOBER, AD 996
“So where is my silver?” Hedin snapped. They’d beached easily enough after an uneventful day’s sailing, and Ulfar’s heart jumped at the subtle things—the trees were thicker and shorter, the soil richer. They were definitely in Svealand. Home, but he still had a long way to go. The sun was halfway across the sky but the chill in the air spoke of a hard winter to come. “You said you had the means, and what about your father’s reach?”
This was his land, and now, his rules. “Ah, but you see—” Ulfar smiled. “My father,