Heave! Heave! Heave! Heave! King Jordan Korg's great fleet moves slowly toward Paris — by land this time, not sea. Torvi pulls, and Mason pulls, and Erlendur pulls, and Earl Ingstad pulls, and King Jordan Korg pulls, pulls, pulls, pull. “Heave!” yell the Northmen. “Heave!” to Paris.
A Frankish man, a farmer, sees the Northmen. Run home, he tells his son. “Let’s hope they don’t come our way.” Little hope of that, oh ye man of Frankia. King Harald and his brother Halfdan find the farm. There is something different about Harald and Halfdan, or perhaps just something indifferent. King Jordan Korg is a curious conqueror. For Harald and Halfdan, the conquest is enough. Halfdan enters the farmhouse, finds an egg — and then cracks it open with his ax. (A potent symbol, and one to hold onto. Life
