their heads. “Ivar here says there’s an old twenty-bencher just over the hill. Only a handful of sailors waiting with it. Follow me!” he said, spurring his horse on. The new man turned and gave chase.
Thormund glanced at Mouthpiece. “Lucky us, boat just sitting there,” he said.
“Happens,” Mouthpiece mumbled. “Weather or something. One should always accept the gifts of God.”
“Judging by your face, that’s probably more of a guess for you,” Thormund said. “Ain’t that right, Boy?”
Boy giggled. He’d warmed to the old man from the first and had stayed close ever since Jomar had clouted Mouthpiece, but he had still not said a word. They’d named him Boy—he reacted to it, so it’d do until something better came up. Sometimes Audun thought he felt Boy’s eyes on him, but he never caught him looking.
So all he could do was march along next to the thief, the boy, and the blabbermouth. He smirked to himself. “Should have stayed with the Swede,” he said.
“What Swede?” Thormund said. Boy peered over his shoulder, eyes sparkling.
Audun shot them a dirty look and said, “Nothing,” with great finality, but the old man didn’t back down.
He ran Audun over with an appraising eye. “Nothing seems to be on your mind,” he said. “Care to tell us?”
Audun shook his head and veered away from the group, keeping pace but staying out of conversation range. They’d get absolutely nothing out of him.
The sea breeze hit them full in the face as they crested the hill. White-tipped waves crashed on the beach, where a worn-out old raiding boat had been dragged up onto the sand. The sad remains of the crew—Audun counted ten—huddled around a pathetic fire. Ustain and Ivar stood by, talking to a broad-shouldered man who was gesturing out to sea.
“That’s our boat all right,” said Thormund. “It’s a good thing we haven’t eaten much.”
“Mmph,” said Mouthpiece.
They side-footed their way down the steep sandbanks, and by the time they reached the fire, the men from the boat had made space for them and were sharing out dried beef. Ustain ambled toward them, chewing on a reddish-brown strip.
“We’ll set sail at sunrise,” he said, “so find cover somewhere and bed down. These men have been raiding, lost a lot of their crew. They’re signing on with us for the privilege of shipping us across the water,” he said, grinning. He returned to the fire, still chewing on the beef.
Around Audun, the men started talking.
“Don’t like the look of this—”
“—probably damn Swedes. Should kill ’em in their sleep . . .”
“Who’s got first watch?” someone asked, and they bickered among themselves as they went about finding the right spot for their night camp. They finally settled on a hard, flat square in the lee of a big sandbank, in sight of the boat but a bit farther up the beach. As the sun started its descent, tents rose, and a fire-pit was dug. Mostly as a way to avoid their owners, Audun tended to the few horses they possessed.
Silent as a ghost, Boy drifted into his field of vision. He acknowledged Audun, then picked up a brush and got to work tending horses. Audun looked him up and down, nodded back, and continued brushing down a dappled mare.
Behind them they heard Ustain and Ivar return to their muttered conversation. Boy’s brushstrokes lost their rhythm for a moment, but then he resumed as if nothing had happened.
Audun’s mare snorted and tossed her head.
“Shh,” Audun muttered in his best soothing voice. “You’re not going on the boat. We’re going to cut you open and eat you raw tomorrow morning for breakfast.” Across from him, Boy snickered. Audun smiled at him. “If horses understood us, we’d be in real trouble,” he said. Boy nodded. “You understand me,” Audun said. Boy nodded again. “But you can’t speak.” Boy looked away, and his horse whinnied in protest at his hardening strokes. “Don’t take it out on the beast,” Audun snapped. “I asked the wrong thing. No need to get all angry,” he added. Boy’s shoulders relaxed a little, but he didn’t look at Audun again, even as they put away the equipment.
Darkness crept over the beach as Audun bedded down. Behind them, a cheer went up from the men as the flames took hold in the fire-pit.
Eventually Audun drifted into a dreamless sleep, not sensing he was being watched.
EAST OF SKAER, JUTLAND.
JOHAN AAGARD’S FARM
NOVEMBER, AD 996
Every morning of his life, Johan Aagard had woken up early, so it was quite a surprise to