The serving men gaped in astonishment at the paltry reward and shouted all the more loudly. "This is our reward?" they shrieked incredulously. "A whole day's food and drink, for this?"

But the king merely raised his hand in admonishment as he stepped through the door. "Nay, I will hear no word of thanks. For the pleasure was mine alone. Farewell, my friends."

Njord nodded his head in admiration of Harald's aplomb. "There breathes a king indeed," he muttered.

Even though it meant exchanging one stench for another, it was good to be quit of the drinking hall, I thought, as we passed the wooden post of Odin with its rancid gifts. A whole day weltering in the sun had made the putrefying sacrifices most pungent. Yet, on the whole, the stink of rotting meat was preferable to the noisome stew of smoke, sweat, faeces, sour beer and vomit dished up in the drinking hall.

There was no one aboard ship but the guards-not the same ten who had been left behind to watch the vessels, for these had been replaced earlier in the day by kinsmen who had sated themselves on both cup and copulation, and who were now fast asleep on deck. The sleeping men were roused and commanded to retrieve their fellow shipmates.

Separating the Sea Wolves from the delights of Kiev proved far more difficult than anyone could have foreseen. The pleasure houses were large and contained many rooms-some of which were completely enclosed, for those seeking more private expression of the carnal arts-and each house and room had to be searched and the seafarer led or, more often, carried back to the waiting ships.

The moon had risen and gained its peak by the time all Harald's raiders were assembled once more and the ships pushed away from the bank. Fortunately, rowing was not required; the southward flow of the river carried us along. Thus, no one was forced to grapple an oar and disaster was held at bay.

The next day, however, we were not so fortunate. Below Kiev the Dnieper passed through ragged hills that squeezed the river into a swift-running stream carving its way through high stone banks barely wide enough to admit the ships. Sure, an oar held either side would have been scraped to splinters. It was all Thorkel could do to keep the keels centred in the deepest part of the channel. All day long he wore a brow-furrowed haunted look, as if he expected calamity to overtake us at any moment. Njord, on the other hand, spent the day with his head under his cloak, sleeping off the revel of the night before.

When he finally emerged, the worst of the passage was behind us and the water had grown placid once more. "Ah, you see now," he declared, looking around, "this is splendid. I think you are a true helmsman, friend Thorkel. Your skill is equal to mine in every respect save one." He declined to say what the singular lack might be, but went on to pronounce upon the seaworthiness of the ship instead. "Oh, but it is a fine ship, heya? I think so. Stout-masted, but easy on the tiller-a fine longship all in all."

"We have always thought as much," replied Thorkel a little stiffly. "But I am glad to hear you say it."

"In three days the contest begins, however," Njord continued. "The first cataracts are not so bad-little more than rapids. We shall go through four of them very easily, for the water is not so swift this time of year. When the spring rains flood the valleys, it is an entirely different matter. We have good reason to thank our stars it is not spring."

"What of the remaining cataracts?" wondered Thorkel.

"Every man acquires debts," answered Njord cryptically, "but only a fool borrows trouble." He walked away, running his hands over the smooth rail.

"I did not care to borrow it so much as to merely catch a far-off glimpse," muttered the pilot.

The Lord Christ himself said that each day's cares are sufficient to the day and that tomorrow's worries are best left for the morrow. This I told Thorkel, who only blew his nose at the notion and would not speak to me the rest of the day.

The first three cataracts were mastered with poles. As Njord had predicted, the water was low in the pinched crevices through which the river pushed its way to the Black Sea. Using the ends of the oars, we poled the boats slowly around the rocks-now bracing, now guiding, now pushing-until we reached calm water again. By the time we had cleared the third cataract, King Harald was wishing he had not brought so many ships with him; after the fourth, he was contemplating the wisdom of leaving two boats behind and retrieving them later.

Greed awakened just in time to persuade him that he would need all his ships to carry the plundered wealth of Miklagard away, and that, if anything, he was foolish not to have brought more and even larger vessels.

The fifth and sixth cataracts taxed the strength and endurance of every crewman, save the king and ten warriors who stood on the bank to guard the supplies against ambush. A devious local tribe known as the Patzinaks liked, according to Njord, nothing more than to lie in wait where the boats were most vulnerable.

Toting burden after burden, I aided the laborious process as each vessel was beached and unloaded: every grain sack and water butt, each cooking pot, every spear and sword, all the ropes and sails and rowing benches. When every vessel was but an empty hull, the men stripped off their clothes and waded naked out into the swirling, waist-deep water where they shouldered the ropes-some at the bow and others amidships-and with brute force hauled the unwieldy vessels along. Some of the crewmen employed oars to fend the hulls off the nearer rocks, and the whole party proceeded slowly, keeping as close to the bank as possible to avoid being swept out into swifter water and thrown against the sheer rocks. Once the ships were safely past the danger, all the supplies and weapons were trundled downriver and loaded into the craft once more.

This labour occupied the whole of two days for each cataract. And if the first six were not bad enough, the seventh cataract was by far the worst. Not only were there rocks and whirlpools, but also two falls to be traversed. Njord, who had until now been less help than the king thought sufficient, was not forthcoming with a ready solution.

"What are we to do?" demanded the king, growing impatient in the face of the impossible task before us.

"A man may journey by many roads," observed Njord sagely, "but only one way leads to his destination."

"Yes, yes," growled Harald. "That is why I have brought you with me. Show us the way to go."

Njord nodded, his narrow eyes became slits, and his teeth gnawed his lower lip as if he were working out a complicated calculation. "It is difficult," the grizzled pilot conceded at last. "Your ships are too big."

"What is this!" roared the king, making the earth tremble with the force of his cry. "Have I taken you this far only to be told my ships are too big?"

"It is not my fault your ships are too big," Njord answered petulantly.

If ever a man stood on sinking sand, Njord was that man; yet, he seemed oblivious to the danger he faced at that moment. "If you had asked me," the pilot sniffed, "I would have told you."

"Is there anything which you will yet tell me?" wondered the king, his voice menacing and low. I could almost hear the knife sliding from its sheath.

Njord pursed his lips and stared at the water with an expression of deep inscrutability. "If the mountain is too tall to climb," he pronounced suddenly, "then you must go around." Turning to the king, he said, "Since you ask my advice, I tell you the ships must be carried."

The king gaped at him in disbelief.

"Impossible!" cried Thorkel, unable to contain himself any longer. He thrust himself forward to appeal to the king. "Strike his worthless head from his shoulders and be done with him. I will do the deed gladly."