Once returned to the river, the ship made steady progress north. Men watched from the sides, scanning the cliffs on either side, all wary now, some with captured Pecheneg bows, knocked and ready.
Hal, suffering a relapse, lay on a pile of padded blankets under a hastily rigged canopy of animal skins, to shield him from the sun. A thin film of sweat lay over his brow and his breathing was shallow and ragged. Ulf attended to him as best he could, mopping his face with cool water. His worsening condition brought a sense of impending doom to the crew and they threw themselves into their tasks with a new resolve, trying to put away thoughts of Hal dying.
“Tell me about Zoe,” said Hardrada, staring out across the waters.
Hereward stood close by, the breeze playing with his long hair. He gave
