Jesu be praised that after three and a half days of sailing, a soft place to lay his head this eve awaited. Though he and Magnus achieved admirable time in reaching the Shetland Isles, bedding down on the strakes of the hull had made the nights drag. Before they set sail on the morrow for the Orkneys and then farther to Jorvik, he would revel in the comfort of an inn, even a crude one. The musty aroma of damp hemp ropes and drying cod greeted him as he left the hollow timbre of wood for a crunchy gravel path. Men with leathered faces mending nets, children chasing an errant pig, and women carrying baskets or babes took no notice of him. He blended in as simply one more worker in the anthill. Though the sun had hardly begun its descent, bawdy drinking songs rang out through the propped-open door of a public house. He frowned and paused before entering. Perhaps a more restful sleep would be found on the uneven ground near shore. Determined to at least trade for a hot meal, he stopped just inside the threshold to great whoops and catcalls.
