They tied him to a stake after they hauled him across the scree and rocks, taking him far away from their original camp. He sat and watched them within spitting distance of their fire as they laughed, drank and swallowed down hunks of bread and olives. One of them guffawed and hurled a stone towards Hardrada, who moved his head slightly to dodge the missile. He returned their braying with a snarl.
He slept, as best he could, and in the morning he watched them stretching and yawning, one or two stumbling away to a dip in the ground to defecate. The leader, the one who had first come upon him lying in the dirt the previous day, wandered over to him and smiled.
“Your friends will be looking, but they will not find you.” He glanced skyward for a moment, “We will travel in a wide arc, far awa
