The Dneiper, 1042
They set sail, their ship laden with provisions, the crew grim, straining at their oars. Ulf and Haldor sat as silent as stone, Harada"s words smothering them in a dark shroud of despair. Hardrada himself, peering across the broad waters of the river, eyes locked to the distance, dared not meet their eyes. He had laid bare his soul, revealing more than he wished. Over the years an aura of invincibility followed him, one which he promoted, indeed revelled in. Perhaps now his friends might look upon him through different eyes? At Stiklestad, all those years ago, he had failed when Olaf needed him most. He was weak, craven, his soul corrupted by blind hatred. Did not the Lord teach to turn away from violence, to forgive?
He gripped the stempost, peering down into the murky
