The night was dark, the moon"s glow shielded by a solid layer of cloud. The only light came from the small fires crackling on the top of the earthen rampart that loomed before Hakon and his men — a rampart on which two guards strolled, keeping their tired eyes on the fjord that stretched eastward and on the horse track that meandered southwest to King Gorm"s hall at Jelling.
Horsens. That was the name of this place, and it was formidable, though Hakon had expected nothing less. Beyond that rampart lay Ragnvald"s hall and a maze of structures that supported it. Guest halls, storage sheds, a smithy, trading stalls, and more. Though Hakon had not seen them firsthand, he could picture them in his mind, for Harald had been thorough in his description of Ragnvald"s lair. If they managed to get
