'And the shepherd promised: 'Anything you ask.' The fox ran to the wolf and said: 'Cousin, you will have a long life and sire many cubs — I have persuaded the shepherd not to stab you. Hurry up and run now before he changes his mind. I will see you later.'
'The wolf turned and leaped away as fast as he could — which, in truth, he could have done at any time but for his fear. The fox came back to the shepherd, saying: 'Uncle shepherd, you did not forget your promise?'
'The shepherd said the fox was no nephew to him but asked him what he desired and the fox answered: 'Not much, only a bite out of your leg. That will be enough for me.''
'Ha — even that seems tasty to me,' shouted a black-browed Slav and those of us who had known oarmates to have done such a thing once shifted uncomfortably and said nothing at all.
'The shepherd stretched out his leg,' Olaf went on. 'Just as the fox was about to sink his teeth into it, the shepherd barked. The fox jumped back, asking: 'Who made that noise?' The shepherd shrugged: 'What do you care? Take your bite and be done with it.' The fox cocked his head cunningly. 'Oh, no. I will not come near you before you tell me who made that noise.'
'The shepherd sighed. 'In that case, I will tell you. This winter in the village we had nothing to eat. And then my sheepdog had two puppies. Well. . I was so hungry, I ate them. Now the pups have grown up in my stomach. I am thinking they smell you and want to get at you, so they are barking.'
'The fox got even more frightened but he would not show it. He said with dignity: 'I would have no trouble handling your pups. But I must run and see the wolf on some urgent business. Hold back your sheepdogs for a while. When I come back, I will teach them such a lesson that they will never attack foxes again.'
'The shepherd smiled. 'Be quick,' he said.
'And the fox went streaking off into the woods, happy to get away with his life. After he caught his breath, he set out to look for the wolf and said to him: 'Well, cousin — I saved your life when you were frightened of the shepherd and you made a promise.'
'The wolf howled, a long howl. 'What promise?' he growled. 'I am no cousin to you. I am the jarl-king of these woods. Who dares to say that I was frightened?' He raised his paw to strike the fox down — who ran off before such a thing could happen, thinking to himself: 'There is no gratitude in this world.'
'Then the fox slunk into his hole to teach his children to stay away from men and wolves both.'
'Aye, true enough,' Red Njal agreed. 'The cod who swims with sharks is swiftly eaten, as my granny said.'
'Heya,' muttered Gizur, 'I hope you are friendly enough with men and wolves to get away with that insulting saga, little Prince Olaf.'
'And gods,' added Onund Hnufa meaningfully.
'With shepherds only,' answered Crowbone and some laughed, though it was forced. They still did not know how to read the runes of this boy.
Into the gentle warmth of this stepped a large, dark figure — Kveldulf, his bearded jaw thrust out challengingly and a scowl between his brows.
'I am the last of Klerkon's men,' he declared, glancing at little Crowbone. 'I am known as Kveldulf and noted as a shapechanging berserker. It comes to me that you are shorthanded and could use a good man.'
This was right enough, but I did not like or trust Kveldulf and did not want him in the Oathsworn. Crowbone's face was stiff and not all of it was cold; his eyes glittered, one ice, the other dark fire. I remembered that Kveldulf had been Klerkon's man and wondered what had passed between them when Crowbone was a thrall there.
'True enough,' I said, 'but we are the Oathsworn. You may have heard of us and the oath we take. Can you take it and keep it?'
'I am known all over Smalland as a man of my word,' he replied, angry at the hard sneer from me.
Crowbone cleared the choke from his throat, which turned all heads.
'Just so,' he said, in a voice thin as an axe edge. 'You promised me I would never see my mother again, the second time I ran off. True enough, I never have.'
The wind hissed into the silence that followed that, until I forced myself to speak.
'What skills have you that we might need?' I asked Kveldulf.
He blinked at that. 'I have said. I am known as a shapechanger and berserker. A killer am I. A serious jarl would welcome me.'
That was insulting and I felt the burn of anger. It was a surprise, that feeling, for it made me realize how much the cold had seeped in to the centre of me and numbed a great deal.
'Not known to me,' I said careless of insulting this man's fame, which was a dangerous business. 'Nor have I seen you bite a shield, for all the fighting we have done so far.'
'I was not well during the fight at the village,' he admitted, at which Finn gave a snort of laughter. Kveldulf curled a lip at him.
'I am well enough now to show those with no respect some manners. I have heard that the way into the Oathsworn is to fight one already in it.'
I felt Finn bristle and wanted none of this — wanted none of Kveldulf.
'Times are harsh and we are fewer,' I said. 'I have chosen a new way.'
Men leaned forward, curious now and not having heard of this. It would have been hard, since I had just thought of it and I blame the cold and the weight of events for making me savagely reckless.
I held up my left hand, swathed in a leather glove, which was still stiffened with rime. If I had not been at the fire there would have been a mitten over it.
'How many fingers do you see?'
He blinked, then grinned, clearly thinking this was a formality and no more.
'Five, of course.'
I bent the stiff, empty sockets of the glove and those who knew I only had two fingers and a thumb on that hand chuckled. Kveldulf's scowl returned, more thunderous than ever.
Kvasir laughed, loud and hard.
'There are stones with more clever in them,' he said. 'Jarl Orm should get one of them to swear to the Oathsworn.'
'Heya; rumbled Gyrth, smiling. I felt only the hot rush of shame, for it had not been right to smack Kveldulf so hard with words, him who blinked with the effort of understanding.
Kveldulf, trembling like water on the brink of spilling, finally spun round and lumbered into the dark, Finn's savage chuckles goading him. Slowly, conversation resumed but I sat silent, aware of disapproval across the fire.
Eventually, Thorgunna gave a snort. 'The hasty tongue sings its own mishap if it be not bridled in,' she intoned.
'You sound like Red Njal's granny,' I answered, trying to make light of it. 'Or my foster-mother.'
'You never had same, it seems to me,' she replied tartly, 'for she would surely have taught you to be kinder.'
Which was a tongue-cut too deep and Kvasir put a hand on her elbow to still her.
'Look where we all are, Jarl Orm,' Thordis interrupted, leaning forward so that the fire glittered her eyes. 'Here, in this place. Following you to an uncertain doom. If your wyrd is upon you, it is right we should speak. There are more lives at risk here than you know.'
That smacked up memories of Einar, too harsh for me to take easily and the hackles rose on me.
'Do you want Kveldulf? Take him and welcome — but I do not want him at my back. .'
Then it struck me, what she had said and I stopped, gaping. I looked from her to Finn and back. Finn looked stricken and Thordis chuckled at his dismay.
'Not me, Horsehead. . not yet.'
Thorgunna, swaddled in a cloak, raised her head. 'I am not alone.'
It was the way we announced it in the north and Kvasir had clearly known of his wife's condition for some time, since he did not even stir at this. I did, more than a few times. Jon Asanes laughed; Red Njal and others swapped the news, which sprang from head to head like a spark whirling from a fire.
'Are you sure?'
It was question a rock would have asked and her sheep-dropping eyes raked me with silent scorn.
'Even with the cold and the lack of food I can tell when life quickens in me, Jarl Orm,' she snapped. 'Anyway,
