In the pulsing heat of the summer, men laboured under the weight of chainmail and helmet, long columns of warriors tramping across the endless plain, sending up clouds of dust, surrounded by flies. Harald marched with his eyes fixed to the ground, keeping his mind neutral, whilst around him others shuffled and wheezed. They had moved for the best part of a week now, uncertain when the end would come. Scouts roamed far ahead, rarely sending back news. The enemy, reluctant to engage, remained elusive. Discontent grew, and in camp during the evening, disgruntled Varangians spoke of home or the chance to travel south, to the fabled city of Miklagard, where it was known good money was paid to fighting men. Harald listened, silent, a little away from the main groups. Urledsson, a man who had mad
