Harbard the Wanderer walks into Kattegat, one hand bleeding. "I was sleeping rough," he tells the welcoming party: Queen Ella, Debby, and Alga. Two wives left behind with children, one widow left behind by her maybe- boyfriend with nothing. Maybe it's nice to have a man in the house again; maybe it's just unusual, on a cold winter day, to have someone new in town.
"I sleep wherever I can lay my head," says Harbard. He sleeps on straw, or with cattle for warmth. (He prefers straw.)
They've met warriors and kings, farmers and mystics. "Harbard tells stories," he says. "Stories about my own travels. Stories about the gods. Or both!" Queen Ella looks at him like he's a new kind of toy. Debby is suspicious. Can you blame her? You don't cast Kevin Durand-who some sources claim is eight feet t
