Hakon swallowed a mouthful of dried cod and peered at the men about him. Like feeding pigs, they grunted their delight as they tore into the lamb they had stolen from one of Rognvaldsey"s nearby farms.
Hakon turned to Egil. “Do you find it strange that the owners of the farm are nowhere to be found?”
Egil chewed his lamb while he thought on Hakon"s question. “No,” he finally answered. “Here in the islands, it is common for whole families to leave their farms and visit relatives and friends on other islands.” He waved his bone toward the farmstead they had just sacked. “These people just picked the wrong time to leave.”
Hakon ignored his little joke. “Even now? As the autumn months begin?”
“If the weather permits.” Egil examined a chunk of lamb hanging from the bone before tearing it of
