“They’re here.”

Gudrod stood at the prow of the Scavenger, one hand resting against the masthead as his thick black cloak rippled against the wind. He watched as a small group of men on the distant snow swept shore dismounted their horses. Around a dozen warriors, tall to a man and clad in heavy fur pelts, handed the reigns of their horses to their thralls and made their way down to a small wooden jetty.

Twisting around, Gudrod stole a glance at his men on the fore-deck and felt his chest tighten; he could feel the tension behind their half smiles and conspicuous chatter. No matter, all that needed to be said had been said and each of his men knew their task, there would be no mistakes. Gudrod looked back to the men on the coast, by now crowding the end of a branch jetty boarding the skiff he had sent for them, and raised a hand. A few of the men raised their arms in response and shouted to him, but their words were swallowed whole by the wind.

The dry skin of his lips cracked as a Gudrod smiled almost imperceptibly as he leaned over the gunwale and spat a string of viscous phlegm into the slow grey sea. He watched, rapt, as the spittle was tossed and smashed against the hull by the surf, torn and split apart before eventually being devoured by the froth foaming around the dark strakes of the scavenger, as though having never existed.

As Gudrod watched this drama unfold in miniature the rowers on the skiff cut their way towards the scavenger, their oars slicing through the frosty waters of the Vik like white-hot steel through flesh making the spray billow up from the surface like steam, quickly covered the short distance to the anchored longship. A flaxen-haired man stood at head of the skiff, a giant even for a Northman. Even had Gudrod not known the men, there could have been little doubt who led them.

“Gudrod, I see you finally have a real ship you whoreson”, The golden giant shouted against the squall.

The skiff had begun to come about, and Gudrod rankled inwardly at the insult but kept his face still. As the skiff closed he could see the giant more clearly; the gold ringlets circling his massive arms, the silver bars woven carefully into his long golden braids, the bone-white scars fading on his otherwise handsome face. He offered his hand to the larger man, helping him aboard even as the lines thrown to the small boat were secured to iron cleats aboard the Scavenger.

“Welcome aboard Cousin, I’m pleased it has your approval”.

             The giant embrace Gudrod like a bear might hug a child, lifting him into the air with clumsy enthusiasm. Despite himself, Gudrod felt a genuine affection for the man. He could see why men might follow one with such easy charm and infectious humour. He shook his head; such thoughts would only make his task the more difficult. In his heart Gudrod wished he had the courage to disobey his brother’s orders, but he knew would follow, he always did. The two men fell deep into conversation, strolling the deck as each in turn asked of the others family, as the rest of the giant’s men began to load their sea-chests aboard the longship.

The task of loading the half empty chests took only a few minutes. At the start of a reaving season each chest would hold only the man’s clothing and armour; each would leave plenty of room for the plunder their adventures would bring, Odin willing. Once finished, the giant’s men began to embark.

The steady cadence of the Vik rocked the Scavenger like a child’s toy, but a lifetime at sea had left the two men oblivious to the swell as they paced. Despite his cousin’s advantage in height, Gudrod draped a heavy arm across the now damp bearskin pelt covering the larger man’s shoulders.

"It is good to see you” said Gudrod, surprised to find he meant it, “The Rus have had it too easy of late”.

Both men roared with laughter. “Indeed they have, though I must admit your invitation took me somewhat by surprise. I had heard you and your brother the King had planned to liberate England from its burdensome wealth, no?"

 He had also heard that Gudrod and his brother King Harald had quarrelled, almost fatally, but he decided it would be better to let Gudrod volunteer that information.