Einar rushed into the house and dashed up the stairs towards his parents’ bedroom. He didn’t stop in the corridors, so he bumped into several servants who were already bustling about the jarl’s house. He quickly reached the door and burst in without knocking. His mother was already awake and feeding Athil. As soon as Einar stepped inside, she gave him a reproachful look, but her expression changed immediately and she looked concerned. Meanwhile, the boy had reached the bed and grabbed his father by the front of his shirt. After the feast, the jarl must not have had the strength to change his clothes.
‘Dad! Dad!’ he shouted, shaking Olaf. For his age, Einar was stronger than his already sturdy peers, so lifting his father slightly wasn’t much of an effort at all. ‘Wake up at last!’ he added more loudly, tugging harder.
‘What’s… What’s going on?’ Jarl opened his sleepy eyes and looked at his son, who was tugging at him. ‘Einar, what are you doing?’ he gasped, freeing himself from the boy’s grip.
‘The druids have prophesied that around midday, a ship will arrive in Stairon after a long voyage.’ Einar blurted it out in a single breath. ‘They don’t know whether it bodes anything good or bad, but they saw that it’s very important.’ He gasped a few times and looked at his mother, then back at his father. ‘Heres has asked us to get ready.’
‘The gods won’t even give us a moment’s respite,’ sighed Olaf, rising from his bed. ‘Go and wake your brothers,’ he added, rubbing his eyes. ‘Or rather, find them first.’ The jarl winced at a dull throb at the back of his head. ‘And help them get themselves together. Because, whatever happens, your brothers are going to need help.’ Einar merely nodded and walked out more slowly, but with a slightly mischievous smile. He had a hunch where he’d find each of his brothers. He had a feeling it wouldn’t even be difficult.
Just to be sure, he checked their rooms, as if they might surprise him. As he’d expected,
