in the hall.”

“I know that.”

She suppressed a smile. All of her sons seemed to have a second sense when it came to their father’s duty roster. Long before she did, they knew when he was leaving on patrol, when he was on guard at the hall entrance, when he was standing watch beside the throne or serving as the king’s bodyguard. “Tell him …” She hesitated, not knowing quite what she wanted Hemming to know. “Tell him what Amma’s doing.”

He nodded and started to run.

“Wait!” she said. “Wash the egg off your shirt first.”

He ran to the water’s edge and dabbed some foam over his front. Ah, well, Fulla thought. He was sure to get plenty of other things on that shirt before the day was out. She watched until he had climbed the path up the cliff and disappeared. Once he was out of sight, her gaze shifted to the giants’ mountain, looming out over the water in the distance, its top covered with mist. Amma lived out beyond the mountain’s roots, alone in a hut on Hwala’s farm. There was another beach near the farm, so why had she come all the way here? Fulla walked over to stand beside Amma. Shading her eyes with her palm, she looked out to sea again.

Again, she thought she saw a black speck, far out on the horizon. When she blinked, it was gone. Just waves, she realized, which have a habit of making themselves appear to be whales and sea monsters and longships.

She glanced sideways at Amma, at her dark hair and brows, so unlike the blond and brown and red hair of the Geats. Near Amma’s ear, strands of gray mingled with the dark hair. Fulla unconsciously touched the hair above her own ear before concentrating on the horizon again.

There! She had seen something; she was sure of it. She squinted into the distance. Far out at sea, something bobbed on the water, winking in and out of existence as the waves pushed it from crest to trough. It might have been a bird or a piece of driftwood. Or it might have been something else.

She watched it for a long time, until the clouds had rolled over the entire sky, taking the sparkle off the water and turning it a hard metallic gray, like the color of chain mail.

“What is it?” someone beside her asked, making her jump—Elli, a girl Gunnar’s age.

“Probably just a bit of wood,” Fulla said. “Come, we’d best get home before it rains. Where’s your mother?”

Elli pointed and Fulla shooed her off. When the girl was gone, Fulla whispered, “Amma? Do you know what it is?”

Without taking her eyes from the water, Amma quirked her lips, then moved her chin in the slightest approximation of a nod.

“Could you tell me?”

There was no response.

“Is it …” Fulla hesitated to say the word. “Is it raiders?”

Again, Amma said nothing.

It could be a longship full of warriors ready to sweep down and take the Geats captive, enslaving them. And like bait to lure them forward, defenseless women and children swarmed over the beach while gulls and terns screamed and swooped over their disturbed nests. How foolish she’d been, standing here doing nothing! Fulla gathered her skirts and ran. She called for the other women, trying to hurry them without causing panic. A few of them looked out at the water and, understanding her rush, began to help.

Just as the children had all been rounded up, the sound of hoofbeats from the cliff made Fulla turn in alarm. She let out her breath in relief when she realized it was her husband, Hemming, Gunnar in front of him on the horse. Behind them rode two other warriors, Dayraven and Horsa. They reined in their mounts, and she saw Gunnar pointing excitedly at the sea.

“Let’s go,” she said to the woman in front of her, who called out, “No pushing, Tor!” as she shepherded the children up the rocky path.

The children were safely at the top of the cliff and heading down the trail toward the stronghold, Elli in the lead, by the time Fulla reached her husband, who was still on his horse. Gunnar had dismounted. “It’s a boat,” he said.

She reached for her son, wrapping her arms around his chest, and turned back to look. She could see now that he was right; it was definitely a boat, but too small for a longship. Gunnar tried to shrug himself out of her grasp, but she held him