I opened my eyes and raised my head to see Ylva standing over me with her hands clasped, as mine had been, in an attitude of prayer.

"You are singing again to your god, heya?" she observed.

"Yes."

"Perhaps this god of yours would help our Gunnar."

I did not know what to say to this, so I merely agreed. "Perhaps."

"Something preys on Gunnar's mind," she declared quietly. She knelt down in the grass beside the stump. "He is worried about the theng. He fears it will go ill with him there."

I turned to look at her face in the soft dusky light. It was a beautiful face in its way, fine-featured and good-natured, with deep brown eyes and a small, straight nose. Her long braids were still neat after a whole day's labour. She smoothed her mantle with her hands. Her clothing carried the scent of the kitchen.

"Tell me about this-this theng," I suggested.

"It is the theng," she answered. "It is a…" she hesitated, thinking how best to describe it, "a place where jarls and free men go to talk."

"A council." I drew a circle in the air.

"Heya," she nodded brightly, "it is a talking-ring."

"Has Gunnar any purpose-ah, no, that is not right." I thought for a moment. "Reason! Has he any reason to fear this council?"

She shook her head, peering at her hands in her lap. "None that I know. Always before, he welcomes the theng. Every day everyone drinks the king's ol and gets drunk. It is enjoyable for them, I think."

"Ylva," I said on sudden inspiration, "would you do something for me?"

She looked at me suspiciously. "What is this you wish me to do?"

"Would you…" I did not know the word, "ah, would you cut me?" I patted my bristly forehead. "Here?"

She laughed. "You want me to shave you!"

"Heya. I want you to shave me. If I am to stand before the king, I must look like a…ah-"

"Shaven one," she said, supplying the barbarian term for priest.

"Yes, I want to look like a shaven one. Will you do this?"

Ylva assented and fetched Gunnar's razor and a bowl of water. She settled herself on the stump and I on the ground before her, and, at my direction, she renewed my tonsure with swift strokes of her deft fingers. Karin, concerned over Ylva's absence, came out to look for us and, when she saw what we were about, hurried back to the house and called Ulf and Gunnar to see as well. They thought the sight immensely humorous and laughed loud and long at me.

Well, if the sight of a monk's tonsure gave them pleasure, so be it. Laughter, I reckoned, was the least trial a priest of the Holy Church might endure. Anyway, there was no spite in it.

Tolar arrived the day before we were to leave for the king's council. He and Gunnar were good friends, I soon discovered. They often accompanied one another to market, or, on such occasions as this, to the theng. The next morning, Karin, Ulf, and Ylva came out into the yard to see us away.

Karin wished her husband well, and gave him a bundle of food which he put in the bag at his belt. Ylva also wished Gunnar well on his journey. Then, turning to me, she said, "I made these for you to eat on the way."

She pressed a leather pouch into my hands, and, leaning close, kissed me quickly on the cheek. "May your God go with you, Aeddan. Journey well and return safely."

Then, overcome by her own boldness, she ducked her head and hurried back into the house. Thunderstruck, I watched her disappear through the door. My cheek seemed to burn where her lips had touched. I could feel the colour rising to my face.

Gunnar had already turned away, but Tolar stood looking on, smiling at my embarrassment. "Made these for you," he said, chuckling to himself; he tapped the bag in my hand as he moved past.

Ulf and Garm accompanied us as far as the edge of the forest, whereupon Gunnar sent them back with a last farewell. We then turned to the trail and began walking in earnest; Garm, nose to the ground, ran ahead, searching out the trail and circling through the brush on either side. We rested and watered at midday, and while the others napped I took the opportunity to examine the pouch Ylva had given me; inside were five hard, flat brown disks. They smelled of walnut and honey. I broke off a piece of one, tasted it, and found it sweet and good. I ate half a disk then, and made a habit of eating half each day.

Thus, we progressed: walking steadily, taking only two or three rests each day, stopping early and rising at dawn to move on. It was not until the evening of the third day that I learned of Gunnar's misgivings. We had stopped by a brook to make camp, and he was sitting with his feet in the water. I removed my shoes and sat down a little apart from him. "Ah, it is good after a long day's walk," I told him. "We have forests in Eire, but not like this."

"It is a very big forest, I think," he replied, looking around as if seeing it for the first time. "But not as big as some."

He dropped his gaze, and his expression clouded once more. After a moment, he drew a deep breath. "They are saying that Harald is increasing the tribute again. Ragnar owes Harald a very large tribute, and we must all help to pay. Each year it grows more difficult." He spoke more to himself than to me, as if he were merely thinking aloud. "Harald is a very greedy man. However much we give him, it is never enough. He always wants more."

"That is the way with kings," I observed.

"You have greedy kings in Irlandia also, heya?" Gunnar shook his head. "But none as greedy as Harald Bull-Roar, I think. It is because of him that we go a-viking. When the harvest is not good and the winter is hard, we must find silver elsewhere."

He was silent for a time, looking at his feet in the water-as if they were the cause of his trouble. "Such raiding is hard for a man with a wife and son," he sighed, and I felt the weight of his burden. "It is all right for the younger men; they have nothing. Raiding teaches them many things useful to a man. And if they get some silver they can get a wife and a holding of their own."

"I see."

"But it is not so easy now as it was when my grandfather was a young man," Gunnar confided. "Then, we only raided in times of war. Or to find wives. Now we must raid to satisfy the silver-lust of greedy jarls. That is not so good."

"Heya, not so good," I sympathized.

"I do not like leaving Karin and Ulf. I have a good holding-the land is good. But there are not so many people nearby, and if anything should happen while I am away…" He let the thought go. "It is not so bad for the younger men; they have no wives. But who will be hearth-mate to Karin if I do not return? Who will teach Ulf to hunt?"

"Perhaps King Harald will not increase the tribute this year," I suggested hopefully.

"Nay," he murmured, turning woeful eyes on me, "I have never yet heard of a jarl such as that."