izur looks out over the lake with his hands on his hips. The island folk are gathered around, their faces grim as they watch the men bringing the bodies down from the watchtowers. Somewhere, a woman sobs.
The chieftain appears at his shoulder. “They’ve taken a skiff,” he says, his voice laced with hostility and accusation, “It’s as we feared. Astrid has already begun drawing lots for sacrifices.”
“As we speak, my crew is readying my ship to go after them,” says Gizur, “Perhaps we can stop them before reach the serpent’s lands. Will you come with me?”
“I will. I’ll go fetch my helm and sword.”
But as the chieftain leaves his side to go up to the hall, he turns pale as bone and a wail escapes his lips.
Gizur whirls about. At the top of the hill, Astrid and several huskarls are leading the chieftain’s daughters out of the hall.
Astrid points at the chieftain. “Lord!” she shouts, “You welcomed the Frankish Prince to our island! You brought him to the high table and let him feast at your right hand! Now he has betrayed us! Your guest has betrayed us! Therefore, it must be your blood that appeases the serpent’s wrath!”
Gizur glances hurriedly between them. “Put the girls on my ship!” he says, “We’re going after them! If you must offer sacrifices, you can do it at the edge of the creature’s realm!”
Astrid raises her chin. “As you wish, my king.”
Trembling, the chieftain covers his hand with his mouth. Gizur grasps his arm and says to him in a low voice, “Fetch your sword and helm. I’ll see no harm comes to your girls while they’re on my ship. And if that witch tries anything without my approval, I’ll hang her from the cross-spar. As for Sigurd and the slave-girl, they’ve only got a little skiff to take them across the lake and many miles upriver, while we have a Swedish warship and a crew of sixty men to row it. They’ll have rowed all through the night, but with our speed, perhaps we can overrun them before they reach the poisoned valley and get our vengeance on them in the wild. Otherwise, they’ll die within the serpent’s smog.”
“And if not?” asks the chieftain.
“Then … I suppose … We’ll have to see what happens.”