She pushed away thoughts of Reider lying with any of these women. A blue cloak was fastened around her shoulders and pinned with a sølje. Fingering the silver brooch, she suppressed a sigh of disappointment when Kjartan appeared to escort her to the rites. They climbed the hill to the site of the stone ship. Villagers had assembled, standing to one side of the ship, looking out to sea. Some held unlit torches. They bowed respectfully. Dieter stood among them, his expression solemn. He nodded to her, but did not smile. Kjartan took her to the entrance of the death house. She dug her nails into his arm, shivering at the sight of Torfinn’s body, surrounded by his earthly possessions. A shield lay at his head, his helmet at his feet. His dead hands lay over the hilt of a sword placed on top of his body. Decay lingered in the air. How difficult it must have been for Reider to complete this ritual that had been accomplished with such obvious love and care. She appreciated Kjartan’s support as they took their places outside in front of the villagers.
