"You must have been in great pain."
"No, at such times you pay no heed, there's too much else to think about. Only later do the cuts begin to smart. Well, anyhow, we got inside the town. Some Saracens were making a stand in one house, so I went up on the roof with a number of men, broke through, and came into the upper story. We found many heavy caskets, so we cut a hole in the floor and threw these down on the foe. As they burst open, the floor below was covered with gold and silver monies. Surely that was an honorable death, smashed by a king's ransom! And I've heard that among some of the wild horsemen of the Asian plains, royal blood may not be spilled, so a captured king is put to death by having molten gold poured down his throat."
When he had spoken of such things to Elizabeth, she had flinched and tried to change the discourse. Thora laughed aloud, clapping her hands together. She could describe her own sea journeys, and, with some malice, quarrels and intrigues to which she had been witness—even the hawking which Thorberg like other Vikings had learned abroad. It was surprising how much she knew of Northern affairs, but she admitted shamelessly stretching her ears when men had speech with her father.
The fires were down to coals when the drinking ended. Men laid themselves on the benches or spread their sleeping bags on the juniper-strewn floor. Harald was given a shut bed into which he folded his giant frame, but was long awake.
Weeks had passed since he had bedded a woman, and he had not really spoken freely to one since . . . well, since he had left Maria. Almost, he wished Thorberg were a Dane, so he could bear Thora away. He didn't think she would struggle more than decency required.
2
In the next few days, the king's men sat about taking their ease: drowsing, trading stories, going onto the bay to fish or ashore to hunt. They were content to let time slip past them. But Harald's mind prowled. So much to do! He had Norway to secure, Denmark to win back, perhaps Sweden to fight ... or even England, since the old treaty between Magnus and Hardhaknut gave him some claim to that throne. There were churches to build; only the Church and its learning could bring his wild folk up with the times, and yet it would not do to let Rome become too powerful. It was necessary to nourish trade, bring new arts into the land, catch and hang robbers. And ever he would have most of the stiff-necked chieftains against him. At whatever cost in blood and gold and treachery, they must be whittled down or his son would never sit easy.
His son. He wondered about that. Ellisif had not been well since the birth of Maria, and he knew from Nidharos she had not conceived again. True, he had been too much away to give her a great chance, but many women grew barren after the first child. Even if she gave him a boy, how strong was the lad likely to be?
Almost unawares, he turned to Thora Thorbergsdottir, and spoke much with her. The sheriff and his plump shy wife left them alone, not wishing to cross Harald Hardrede, nor did the island offer a place for unseemliness. The king thought only that he enjoyed her wit and looks.
On the last day before he was to leave, he saw that she was weaving in the maiden's bower and that her face was downcast. Sticking his head through the door, he said: "Leave that for now and come walk with me."
"As my lord wishes," she answered low. Color flooded her cheeks, but he liked the way she paid no heed to the shocked eyes of her women.
She matched his stride; he need not hobble his steps as he did for Ellisif. The sun was bright in a gusty sky, flimmering coppery off her hair and tossing the blue cloak behind her. They strolled out of the garth and into the little patch of woods beyond, saying naught.
"I'll be sorry to go," he said at last.
She did not look up at him. "Must you?" she replied.
The high, noisy wind ripped a handful of yellow leaves from a tree and flung them across the