"The survivors."

"Heya, the survivors! Some he sold; some he kept. He reckoned Saecsens useful, so he kept Ceawlin and me; he thought we might make good hostages if the Saecsenfolk attacked him. We served in his hall until he died."

"What happened then?"

"He had twice boychilds-"

"Two sons. He had two sons."

"Heya. Thorkel, the elder, and Ragnar, the younger. After Rapp died-choking on a marrow bone in his drinking hall-Thorkel took the throne. He was not a bad jarl, but he was no Christian man, either."

"What happened to him?"

"He went a-viking," Helmuth said wistfully, "and never returned. They waited two years and then made Ragnar kung."

"King?"

"Heya. Yellow Hair has been kung ever since." The swineherd shrugged. "The people like him because he is more generous than his father and brother ever were. Whatever he has, he gives away with all regret-no regret, I mean."

"Including his slaves."

Helmuth sighed. "Including his slaves, heya. He gave me to Gunnar's father, Gronig, who made me his swineherd-though I can read and write, mind-and here I have been ever since. I make no complaint; I am well treated."

"Have you never tried to escape?"

Helmuth spread his hands and opened his eyes wide. "Where would I go? There are wolves in the forest, and wild men everywhere else." He smiled a little ruefully. "My place is here; I have my pigs to look after." He looked around, counted them quickly to assure himself that all were still in sight.

"What of Odd?" I asked.

"Gunnar bought him to work the farm," Helmuth said, and explained how a blow on the head when he was captured had deprived Odd of all but the simplest speech. "Slow-witted he may be, but Odd is a hard worker, and very strong." He paused, then said, "I would know, Aeddan-"

"Aidan," I corrected.

"I would know how is it that you come to be here. Has Gunnar won you, or did he buy you in Jutland at the slave market?"

"He captured me," I answered, and told him about the night raid on the village-careful to omit any mention of the pilgrimage or the treasure. "Then, when we reached the settlement, he gave Yellow Hair three gold pieces for me."

"Gunnar is a good master, heya," Helmuth told me. "He seldom beats me, even when he is drunk. And Karin is a woman worthy of praise in any tongue; she is master of the kitchen, and all that passes beneath her-" he hesitated, "eyesight?"

"Gaze," I suggested gently. "All that passes beneath her gaze."

"Heya. They are good people," he said, adding thoughtfully, "Gunnar says that he shall carve out both our tongues if I do not teach you to speak like a Dane before the next full moon."

With such an attractive incentive before us, we began my formal instruction that very morning. Helmuth, faltering and tongue-tied, grew more certain as more memories of his childhood occupation under Ceawlin's tutelage came back to him. After a shaky beginning, we soon worked out a system of learning whereby I would point to a thing saying the Latin word-thereby helping Helmuth recall his learning-to which he would reply with the appropriate word in the northern speech. I would then repeat this word aloud many times to impress it on my memory.

After many days of such discipline, I obtained a rough sense of the tongue-if sense it was-and could name a good many of the common things around me. Helmuth gradually introduced words that implied an action: to chop, to dig, to plant, to make a fire, and so on. I found in him a willing teacher and easy companion, good-natured, patient, eager to help. What is more, I no longer thought he smelled of pig dung.

Odd, finished with his day's work, would sit and gaze at us in bewildered amazement. What he thought about it, I never knew, for in all the time I knew him, I only ever heard him grunt.

During these days, Gunnar made few demands on me. I chopped wood for the woodstore, fed the chickens, carried water from the well, helped Odd feed the cows and mend the hurdles when the cattle kicked them down; I helped Helmuth with the pigs, removed ash from the hearthplaces, changed the straw in the barn, spread manure on the fields, dug stumps; I helped Ylva pluck geese and pull weeds…In short, I performed whatever tasks needed doing, but my toil was no more arduous or burdensome than any I had known at the abbey. Indeed, my master often preferred the more demanding tasks for Odd and himself. And in any event, no one worked harder than Karin. Thus, I formed the conclusion that Gunnar had no real need of another slave. Whatever reasons he had for buying me from Ragnar, labour was not one of them.

I continued to take my meals in the house, and began to feel as much a part of the family as Ylva or Ulf. Sure, I was treated no worse than either of them. And when I learned to put word to word, forming crude, and often amusing, sentences, my master praised me highly and professed satisfaction with my progress-so much so that the day of testing came soon after my first halting conversation with him.

Hoping to put my mind at ease, I determined to ask what happened the night of the raid. "Do you know what became of my brothers?" I asked, fumbling over the words.

"It was very dark that night," Gunnar observed mildly.

"Were they killed?"

"Maybe," he allowed, "some men were killed. I do not know how many." He then explained that, owing to the confusion which ensued upon the sudden arrival of the lord and his men, he could not be sure of anything. "The jarl appeared and we ran away, taking only what we could carry. We left much treasure," he concluded sadly. "But I do not know about your friends."

The next morning Gunnar roused me in the barn and told me that he and Helmuth were taking some of the pigs to Skansun. "There is a market," he told me. "It is one day's walk. We will stay the night and return home. Do you understand?"

"Heya," I replied. "Am I to go with you?" I asked, hoping for a chance to see something of the wider world once more.

"Nay." He shook his head solemnly. "You are to stay with Karin and Ylva. Ulf will go with me, and Helmuth, too. Odd will remain with you. Heya?"

"I understand."

"Garm I will take with us; Surt I leave here to guard the cattle."

A short while later, we were standing in the yard bidding the travellers farewell. Gunnar spoke a word to his wife, charging her, I think, with the care of the farm, then called the black hound, Garm, to him and strode from the yard without looking back. Ulf fell into step behind him, and Helmuth, with the pigs, met them at the end of the yard. We watched them out of sight, and then turned to our chores.

The day was good and bright, the air warm and full of insects, for summer was speeding on. Odd and I spent the morning working in the turnip field and, after a midday meal, Ylva and I filled a small cauldron with the previous day's milk which had been left to stand, built a small fire in the yard, and began making cheese. Once the milk was gently simmering, we left the tending of the pot to Karin, and I returned to the field.

The first intimation I had that the situation was other than I believed it to be was when, at sunset, I happened to look up from weeding the turnips to see both Gunnar and Ulf striding across the meadow with Helmuth and his pigs straggling along some distance behind. Thinking something terrible must have befallen them, I dropped the hoe and ran to meet them.

"What has happened?" I gasped, breathless from my run. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," Gunnar replied with a slow, sly smile. "I have returned."

"But-" I waved a hand towards Helmuth, "what about the market…the pigs? Did you change your head-ah, mind?"

"I did not go to the market," my master informed me. Ulf laughed aloud, as if they had perpetrated a handsome jest.

I glanced from one to the other of them. "I do not understand."