be heading for his ship. The coast is only a few miles off.’
‘My thought exactly.’
‘With your leave I’ll take my own force and join the pursuit.’
Halfdan nodded. ‘Do it; and may the All-Father bring you better luck.’
Leif bowed to Ragnhild and Astrid and then bade them a brief courteous farewell. With that he turned and strode away. As she watched his retreating figure, Astrid experienced an unwonted sensation of regret, knowing she wouldn’t forget him. He, on the other hand, being bound upon his quest, would already have dismissed her from his mind. Not that it mattered. They were unlikely to meet again. Drawing her mantle closer, she followed Halfdan and Ragnhild towards the waiting horses.
* * *
Leif and his companions reached the coast in time to see the ship heading towards the open sea. Anger mingled with frustration, emotions he was not alone in feeling, to judge from the flinty expressions around him.
‘Hakke will return to his lair and lick his wounds awhile,’ said Finn, ‘but he’ll be back.’
‘And in force, no doubt,’ added Erik.
‘Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now,’ replied Thorvald.
The others were silent, each man inwardly acknowledging the truth of that statement. They had ridden hard, sparing neither themselves nor their mounts, only for this. Leif restrained the urge to curse, knowing it would serve no purpose.
Eventually Finn glanced his way. ‘It’ll be dark soon. What do you want to do?’
‘We’ll make camp here tonight.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that. My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.’
‘Looks like Hakke’s crewmen were before us,’ said Erik, eyeing the charred remains of a fire on the strand beyond. ‘He really had every eventuality covered, didn’t he?’
Thorvald followed his gaze. ‘They were certainly waiting awhile. They’ve even left us some wood.’
‘Thoughtful to the last,’ replied Finn.
‘No, they probably pissed on it before they left.’
In spite of himself Leif grinned. ‘Most like. Even if they didn’t it won’t be enough to keep a fire alight for more than half an hour.’ He turned to the others. ‘Aun, Harek, Bjarni, Ingolf and Trygg—start looking for some more wood. The rest will take care of the horses.’
As the men moved to obey he went down to inspect the abandoned campsite. Contrary to suspicion the remaining firewood was dry. However, when he tested an ember in the makeshift hearth it was barely warm. They were going to have to start again. Brushing a smear of soot from his fingers, he straightened and went off in search of kindling.
* * *
Within an hour they had another fire going and a pile of wood to feed it. The company settled down to eat, breaking out cold rations from the saddlebags. However, conversation was muted, the result of fatigue and disappointment that their quarry had escaped and, once a guard detail was organised, most of the men elected to turn in.
However, although he was tired, Leif found sleep elusive. Hakke’s escape was a serious blow, and likely to have far-reaching ramifications. It might have been prevented had it not been for the need to safeguard the women. He sighed, knowing the thought unjust. They were not to blame and certainly did not deserve to be left to Hakke’s mercy. Lady Ragnhild was an acknowledged beauty, daughter of a jarl and a queen in the making. However, it was not she who lingered in his thoughts.
He couldn’t have said exactly why Astrid should have left a deeper impression. True she was pretty, yet he’d seen other young women as fair; women who had tried much harder to please. He smiled, but its mockery was directed inwards. He couldn’t detect anything remotely flirtatious in her manner. On the contrary, he suspected that her gratitude towards him was in no way influenced by liking. Nor could he entirely blame her. She had been courteous: he had been...abrupt. The subject of marriage was one he avoided when possible since he found it impossible to be impartial. Such discussions always awoke his cynicism, but then, he had nothing to go on except personal experience. Nevertheless, it occurred to him that, since Halfdan’s marriage to Ragnhild was a foregone conclusion, both he and Astrid would be bidden to the feast. That aspect at least was not displeasing. Perhaps he could make amends...
The idea gave him pause. His contact with women in recent years was about money for favours rendered. Astrid fell outside that category which made things potentially tricky. It surprised him that he should even want to see her again: usually his female acquaintances didn’t linger in the mind. The fact that she had might be due in part to the circumstances of their meeting. In part. There was something about her that he couldn’t quite explain, some quality that drew him in spite of himself. Her presence at the feast would make the occasion more interesting and, he decided, much more enjoyable.
Chapter Two
Lady Ragnhild’s marriage to King Halfdan was a splendid affair attended by music and feasting. Both bride and groom looked blissfully happy and had eyes only for each other. Astrid, looking on, thought that was how it ought to be, even though it rarely was. Too often marriages were made without any thought for the personal inclination of the participants. It made her glad for Ragnhild. So fair and kind a lady deserved the love of a good man. Halfdan would treat her well. Having almost lost her, he would know how to value what he had.
The only thing to mar events was the news of Hakke’s escape to Vingulmark, the seat of his power. He still had strong support there, including that of her uncle. A wily politician, he must be gnashing his teeth over recent events, as must the prince. Robbed of a bride and defeated in battle, his anger would be great indeed. He would seek revenge for that, and for his brothers’ deaths. Hysing and Helsing might have fallen in battle but their passing was the excuse that would fuel another uprising, sooner or later. Unless Halfdan pre-empted it...
‘You seem preoccupied,’ said a voice behind her, ‘though I have no expectation that your thoughts were of me.’
Her pulse quickened as she turned to see Leif at her shoulder. The chainmail byrnie was gone now, along with the dirt and gore of battle, and he was clad in a tunic of dark green wool richly embroidered with gold thread at the neck and wrist where the linen of his shirt was just visible. Round his neck he wore an amulet in the likeness of Thor’s hammer. The tooled leather belt round his waist held a fine dagger. He was altogether a most imposing figure.
‘No, they weren’t,’ she confessed.
‘I am crushed.’
She laughed. ‘It would take more than that to crush you, my lord. However, I am sorry to have dashed your hopes.’
‘I’m not convinced that you are sorry.’
‘In truth, not very,’ she replied, ‘but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings as well.’
His eyes gleamed. ‘I suppose I asked for that.’
‘I was thinking about Prince Hakke and what he might do next. I feel sure we have not heard the last of him.’
‘I’m afraid you’re right.’
‘Will he be able to raise another army?’
‘I’m sure he’d like to but, in reality, I think it unlikely. King Gandalf’s force took a hammering at Eid. The survivors will not seek another confrontation with Halfdan if it can be avoided.’
‘So we’re safe.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far; at least not while Hakke lives.’
‘It was unfortunate that he managed to escape.’
‘Yes, most unfortunate.’
Astrid’s eyes widened a little. ‘I did not mean to imply