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Updated: May 29, 2025
"You have done us good service, Harold Naemansson, as it pleases you to be called," said Baldwin, smiling. "But some man's son you are, if ever I saw a gallant knight earl-born by his looks as well as his deeds." Hereward bowed. "And for me," said Robert, "Naemansson or earl's son, here is my Viking's welcome to all Vikings like myself." And he held out his hand. Hereward took it.
He was at the beck and call of forty rough voices; he was the one shuttlecock among eighty brawny battledores. It was a peaceful world, stirred by no greater excitement than a glimpse of a distant sail or the mystery of a half-seen shore; yet things could happen in it, Alwin found. The second day out, the earl-born captive for the first time came in direct contact with the thrall-born Kark.
The earl-born answered haughtily, "Have your will, and I will have mine." If he had had any idea that they would not go so far, it was quickly dashed out of him. One moment of struggle and confusion, and he found himself stripped to the waist, his hands bound to the mast, a man standing over him with a knotted thong of walrus hide.
Something, Leif's curtness, or the touch of Valbrand's hand upon his naked shoulder, roused Alwin's madness afresh. Shaking off the hand, fighting it off, he bearded the chief himself. "I will kill him if ever he utters his cur's yelp at me again. You are blind and simple to think to keep an earl-born man under the feet of a churl.
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