Like most of the other adults inhabiting the Danish capital, Estrid wore paint around her eyes. The effect was startling. She had chosen a silver-blue shade that enhanced the deep blue of her haunting eyes. Outdoing my imagination, she had grown into a splendid, lithe and flaxen-haired woman. The warmth of her greeting mixed with her flirtatious coyness required me to keep my wits about me in order not to be bested.
Estrid was not the only member of her family to comment favourably on the change in my stature and bearing. None other than King Sweyn complimented me on my transformation into manhood when he welcomed us into his hall.
“Tomorrow,” he announced, “the harbour will be crowded with long-ships. Two brothers, Thorkell and Hemming of Jómsborg, will arrive with their men, and many s
