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when Ulf spoke of this dream there was something in his face, his voice, his bearing that seized the spirit and quickened the heart. It was plain this soft-spoken, reserved man was that rare phenomenon: a true leader.
    â€œIt’d cost you an arm and a leg,” Eirik observed. “Ships, crew, supplies.”
    â€œYou doubt my ability to carry this out?” Ulf’s expression was suddenly grim.
    â€œIndeed no,” Eirik said calmly. “I do not. But even a Wolfskin likes to know what he’s getting into.”
    Ulf smiled. “Ah,” he said, “I have one taker, then.”
    â€œTwo.” Hakon spoke from his place on the nobleman’s other side. “You are a man of vision, my lord. A new horizon, an unknown land: what warrior could fail to be drawn by that? I will go, if you’ll have me.”
    Ulf nodded. “I hope Magnus may be prepared to support us, and to release you both. It won’t be tomorrow, my friends, or next season. As you say, there must be resources for such an undertaking. I need time. Still, I see the great ship in my mind, her sails full-bellied in the east wind, her prow dragon-crested; I taste the salt air of that place even now.”
    â€œThe expedition is a fine prospect and stirring to the spirit,” Eirik said. “Good farming land is scarce enough here; a man with many sons leaves scant portions. There’s more than one likely lad who would jump at the chance to settle in such a place, if it’s indeed as verdant and sheltered as you say. You’ll find plenty of takers before you go, I think.”
    â€œAs to that,” said Ulf, “I winnow my wheat once, twice, three times before I make my bread, for I am slow to trust. I will not sink all my resources in such a venture to have it end with a knife in the back.”
    â€œWisely spoken.” To everyone’s surprise, it was the boy Somerled who spoke. “My brother is a man with a curse on him; he needs to be rather more cautious than most.”
    Ulf was regarding his brother with a look of distaste. “Enough, Somerled,” he said. “We will not speak of that here at this peaceful hearth.”
    â€œIt’s a good curse.” The boy went on as if Ulf had not spoken. “A kind of riddle. I like riddles. It goes like this:
    â€œPinioned in flowers of straw
    Cloaked in a mackerel’s shroud
    His dirge a seabird’s cry
    Neither on land or water does he perish
    Ulf, far-seeker, dreamer of dreams
    Yet tastes the salt sea, watches the wild sky
    By neither friend nor foe
    Slain with his hope before his eyes.”
    There was silence. It was plain to all that Ulf had not wanted this spoken aloud.
    â€œA strange verse indeed,” Karl said after a little. “What does it mean?”
    â€œAs to that,” Ulf said soberly, rising to his feet, “it seems nonsense. If a man is neither on land nor water, where can he be? Flying like an albatross? An old woman spoke such a verse over me when I was in the cradle, that is all. Folk make much of it, but it seems to me a man must live his life without always looking over his shoulder. If some strange fate overtakes me and proves these words true, so be it. I will not live in fear of them. Indeed, I would prefer to forget them.” He frowned at Somerled.
    After that, the talk turned to safer matters, and soon enough it was bedtime. Because Somerled was a nobleman’s brother, and a visitor, the two lads who shared Eyvind’s small sleeping area had to move, and Somerled was given their space. It meant there was more room, which Eyvind appreciated. He was growing taller; his toes were making holes in his boots and his wrists stuck out of his shirtsleeves. Somerled was small, and slept neatly, rolled tight in a blanket, still as if dead. On the other hand, he had a gift for banishing other people’s sleep. That first night, just as Eyvind, comfortably tired from the long day’s