greetings shouted with a mixture of joy and relief. After all, one could never be sure whether anyone would return from an expedition.
Einar moved right up to the water’s edge and scanned the crowd for the familiar figures of his family members. He knew his father would not be coming ashore for some time yet, but he expected his brothers would be keen to get onto dry land quickly, out of reach of the tireless jarl’s orders and with the chance to rest after six months of warfare.
He wanted to turn to Dirk, but his friend was no longer in the vicinity, so he concluded that Dirk had hurried off towards the ship on which his brother had sailed. He shrugged and, feeling somewhat weary, looked around. It didn’t seem likely that things would get any less hectic on the decks any time soon, and since the brothers hadn’t come ashore... He couldn’t let it go. He quickly glanced around and, having made sure no one was paying him any attention, spotted the nearest mooring line leading up to the upper deck and swiftly clambered up it. He deftly swung his weight over the railing and slid smoothly behind a crate standing right next to it.
With a quick glance, he scanned the deck and spotted his father and brothers, surprisingly, all standing in one spot. Jarl, a huge man resembling a bear standing on its hind legs, stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at his four sons. All of Olaf’s sons resembled their father, differing only in the colour of their hair. The eldest, Bragi, had chestnut hair; the twins, Kari and Leif, were blond; and Surt’s fiery red hair distinguished him amongst the locals just as much as Einar’s silvery hair did. It seemed they’d done something to seriously displease their father and were now being lectured on some matter.
Einar smiled to himself and slowly began to weave his way through the bustling sailors. Not everyone had gone ashore, as there wouldn’t have been enough room anyway, and there was no shortage of
