The Lords of the North Read Online Free PDF Page B

that I saw, but in truth I really only noticed one thing. My father's

helmet.
    It was on the table. The helmet had a closed face-piece which, like the crown, was inlaid

with silver. A snarling mouth was carved into the metal, and I had seen that helmet so many

times. I had even played with it as a small child, though if my father discovered me with it

he would clout me hard about the skull. My father had worn that helmet on the day he died at

Eoferwic, and Ragnar the Elder had bought it from the man who cut my father down, and now it

belonged to one of the men who had murdered Ragnar. It was Sven the One-Eyed. He stood as

Bolti and I approached and I felt a savage shock of recognition. I had known Sven since he

was a child, and now he was a man, but I instantly knew the flat, wide face with its one feral

eye. The other eye was a wrinkled hole. He was tall and broad-shouldered, long-haired and

full-bearded, a swaggering young man in a suit of richest mail and with two swords, a long

and a short, hanging at his waist. 'More guests,'
    he announced our arrival, and he gestured to the bench on the far side of the table.

'Sit,' he ordered, 'and we shall do business together.'
    'Sit with him,' I growled softly to Bolti.
    Bolti gave me a despairing glance, then dismounted and went to the table. The second man

was dark-skinned, black-haired and much older than Sven. He wore a black gown so that he

looked like a monk except that he had a silver hammer of Thor hanging at his neck. He also

had a wooden tray in front of him and the tray was cunningly divided into separate

compartments to hold the different coins that gleamed silver in the sunlight. Sven,

sitting again beside the black-robed man, poured a beaker of ale and pushed it towards Bolti

who glanced back at me, then sat as he had been commanded.
    'And you are?' Sven asked him.
    'Bolti Ericson,' Bolti said. He had to say it twice because the first time he could not

raise his voice enough to be heard.
    'Bolti Ericson,' Sven repeated, 'and I am Sven Kjartanson and my father is lord of this

land. You have heard of Kjartan?'
    'Yes, lord.'
    Sven smiled. 'I think you have been trying to evade our tolls, Bolti! Have you been trying

to evade our tolls?'
    'No, lord.'
    'So where have you come from?'
    'Eoferwic.'
    'Ah! Another Eoferwic merchant, eh? You're the third today! And what do you carry on

those packhorses?'
    'Nothing, lord.'
    Sven leaned forward slightly, then grinned as he let out a huge fart. 'Sorry, Bolti, I

only heard thunder. Did you say you have nothing? But I see four women, and three are young

enough.' He smiled. 'Are they your women?'
    'My wife and daughters, lord,' Bolti said.
    'Wives and daughters, how we do love them,' Sven said, then he looked up at me and though I

knew my face was wrapped in black and that my eyes were deep-shadowed by the helmet, I felt my

skin crawl under his gaze. 'Who,' Sven asked, 'is that?'
    He must have been curious for I looked like a king. My mail and helmet and weapons were of

the very best, while my arm rings denoted a warrior of high status. Bolti threw me a

terrified look, but said nothing. 'I asked,' Sven said, louder now, 'who that is.'
    'His name,' Bolti said, and his voice was a trembling squeak, 'is Thorkild the Leper.'
    Sven made an involuntary grimace and clutched at the hammer amulet about his neck, for

which I could not blame him. All men fear the grey, nerveless flesh of lepers, and most lepers

are sent into the wilderness to live as they can and die as they must.
    'What are you doing with a leper?' Sven challenged Bolti. Bolti had no answer. 'I am

journeying north.' I spoke for the first time, and my distorted voice seemed to boom inside

my closed helmet.
    'Why do you come north?' Sven asked.
    'Because I am tired of the south.' I said.
    He heard the hostility in my slurred voice and dismissed it as impotent. He must have

guessed that Bolti had hired me as an escort,