That, I offered up, was a good sign, for surely now it meant all the Man-Haters had died. Save one, I thought to myself, for you cannot kill the fetch who owned that sheened horse, or swung the twin of my sabre. I had not planned to say anything, but reached up one hand to touch the rag-wrapped bundle of the sabre on my back and caught Finn's knowing eye across the fire.
He growled and would have spat his disgust, save that he was nestling Thordis in the crook of his arm and thought better of it.
'There's no Hild-fetch, Trader,' he said. 'That bitch-tick is long dead.'
He knew I did not believe him and I looked for Kvasir to take my shieldless side in this argument, but he was wrapped in the arms of Thorgunna and asleep.
'Well, at least I know it isn't Fimbulwinter,' I offered them.
The I told them of my dream. A few, Gyrth among them, simply shrugged; they wanted to say that it was only a dream brought on by a dunt on the head, but kept their chapped lips together out of politeness to me. Others, though, were stronger in their belief.
'A witching form often brings the wise,' Red Njal declared, 'as my granny used to say. It seems to me that Trader Orm has just made a good deal with Odin.'
He beamed, but Finn had the look of man more concerned that his jarl talked with gods in his dreams, while Klepp Spaki was interested in the riddle, but added that thinking it out was like trying to row into a headwind.
'A sea-farer at last, are we?' growled Hauk, though he grinned when he said it. Klepp, who had discovered he had no legs or stomach for the sea, acknowledged his lack with a rueful smile.
Finn eventually growled that there was nothing much about my visit with All-Father and I did not know whether to be relieved or angry at that.
'After all,' he went on, 'it has told nothing more than we know already — even that part about a sacrifice of something held dear. Odin always wants something expensive draining lifeblood on an altar. It might even be me, since I took the valknut sign after the vow I made in the pit prison in Novgorod.'
'In return for what?' asked Sigurd, his silver nose gleaming in the firelight. Finn shifted uncomfortably, looking at little Prince Vladimir; what he had wished for was the death of that little prince and thought he had got it, too, when we heard the bells ring out.
Of course, it was the boy's father who had died and Finn simply put that difference down to not being specific with a shapechanger such as Odin — . but we had still been got out of the prison. The memory let me save Finn's face.
'To be free of the prison,' I offered up, smooth as new silk. Finn nodded eagerly and thanked me with his eyes. Vladimir frowned, considering the answer; he had an unhealthy interest in comparing the advantages of different gods.
'I am thinking,' piped up a voice, 'that the reason men give offerings to Thor is because he is less likely to betray them than All-Father Odin.'
All heads swung to Crowbone, sitting hunched in his cloak and blooded by firelight.
'What do you know of the betrayal of gods?' asked Gyrth curiously and those who knew Crowbone's early life stirred and wished he had never voiced the question.
Little Olaf favoured Gyrth with his lopsided look and cleared his throat.
'I know the treachery of gods and men both,' he said and brought one hand out of his cloak to take a twig and poke the fire so that sparks flew and the flames licked up. Few men wanted to back away from it, all the same, even though their hair was scorching, for we all knew we would be a long time cold after this.
'There once was a shepherd,' he said and there was a whisper like sparks round the fire, the relish and apprehension of a tale from Olaf.
'It was at the end of a deep and dark winter, almost as bad as this one. He brought his sheep into the field to find some grazing and sat down under a tree to rest. Suddenly a wolf came out of the woods. A lord of wolves, it was, with a ruff as white as emperor salt and a winter-hunger that had his chops dripping.'
''I know that hunger well,' interrupted a voice and was shushed to silence.
'The shepherd picked up his spear and jumped up,' Crowbone went on. 'The wolf was just about to spring at the man when he saw the spear and thought better of it, for it had a fine, silver head and he did not like the idea of a shepherd with so clever a weapon. They stared at each other and neither dared to make the first move.
'At that moment, a fox came running by. He saw that the wolf and the shepherd were afraid of each other and decided to turn the situation to his own advantage. He ran up to the wolf and said: "Cousin, there is no reason to be afraid of a man. Jump on him, get him down and have a good meal."
'The wolf eyed him with an amber stare and said: "You are cunning, right enough, but you have no brains. Look at him — he has a silver spear, which is surely magical. He will stab me and that will be the end of me. Be off with your stupid advice."
'The fox thought for a moment, then said: "Well, if that is the way of it, I will go and ask him not to stab you. What will you give me if I save you?"
'The wolf told him he could have anything he asked for, so the fox ran to the shepherd and said: "Uncle shepherd, why are you standing here? The wolf wants to make a meal of you. I just persuaded him to wait a while. What will you give me if I save you?"
'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."