Hakon and his men hastened to the edge of the camp, where Harald sat astride his steed, shouting at the sentries who had leveled their spears at him.
“Lower your spears! I am King Hakon"s man, you louts,” he bellowed as he removed his hood. “Where is the king?”
“Let him through!” Hakon called to the sentries.
The guards opened the gate, and Harald dismounted. Sweat slickened his face and dampened his hair, and fresh mud caked his clothing. Froth bubbled at the corners of the horse"s mouth. Hakon handed Harald his water skin, which he took gratefully.
“The army moves from the north, lord,” he said after swallowing several mouthfuls and belching loudly. He showered his face with the water and wiped it away with his palm, leaving streaks of dirt on his cheeks. “They left last night, under
