An ungentle nudge woke Hakon with a start. He scrambled to his feet, his seax in his hand.
“Whoa!” Toralv backed away with surprising dexterity. “Easy, lord. It"s me. Toralv.”
Hakon was inside his tent, where all was shadow. The glow of Lade"s summer twilight found its way through the tent flap, backlighting the towering form of Toralv and bedimming his features. Hakon rubbed at his face to remove the cobwebs of sleep. “What is it?” he asked.
“The child has arrived.”
“The child?”
“The reason why we"re here,” Toralv explained in mock exasperation.
“I know why we"re here, Toralv,” Hakon grumbled as he pulled on his trousers. “Is he healthy? How fares Bergliot?”
Toralv shrugged. “I"ve only just heard that the child was born. I came straight away to tell you.”
Hakon sheathed his blade
