A few minutes later, the deck was over-hung by brightly-coloured canvas, light grey in the gloom. The mist swirled and thickened beyond the awnings, but within them the crew gnawed salted meat while sitting round mats of thick grass where blazed fires lit from a brazier of hot coals near the stern. A few venturesome souls sat out on deck with fishing rods and hoped for a bite.

The crew passed round jars of ale and mead, regaling each other with obscene riddles, and at one point Erik took out his harp and sang a lay so incomprehensible it impressed even Gudrun. But despite the apparent joviality of the proceedings, a gloominess seemed to hang heavy on the crew, and early on, many of them rolled out their sleeping bags and retired for the night. Soon only Erik and Halldor were left to revel.

‘Something’s up with the men,’ Halldor said darkly. ‘Last night they feasted all  night. Tonight, look at them.’

Erik shrugged. ‘Maybe the headaches they had in the morning - and the knowledge that they’ll be sailing tomorrow - have taught them wisdom. One cannot feast every night, except in Valhalla.’

‘You and your wisdom,’ muttered Halldor. ‘Give me a good strong sword any day.’ He yawned. ‘Anyway, I’m off to sleep.’

He unrolled his sleeping bag and climbed into it.

Erik glanced out through the awning opening, where the lookout sat staring out across the bay. It was a man named Arnald, who had little reputation among the crew for conversational skills. Erik shrugged again, and rolled out his own sealskin-lined sleeping bag. There was definitely something oppressive in the air, not just the mist, but equally indistinct and indefinite. Ignoring his forebodings, he snuggled down, and tried to get to sleep. The gentle rocking of the anchored ship soothed him, lulled him, and slowly he drifted off into a doze.

He sat bolt upright. A distant screeching had jerked him from his sleep. He stared around the darkened deck.

‘What’s that?’ mumbled Gudrun from nearby. ‘Someone shut them up! I’m trying to sleep.’ A chorus of similar complaints came from the crew.

Erik got up cautiously, and picked his way down the deck. It swayed beneath his feet, and he almost stumbled a couple of times. Reaching the open deck, he approached Arnald who was staring towards the shore.

‘What’s happening?’ he asked. The noise had ceased, but Arnald still stared into the misty darkness, his eyes wide. He glanced up at Erik.

‘Don’t know,’ he muttered laconically. ‘Started before. Lot of noise from the shore.’

Erik stood beside him, and stared anxiously towards the dim coastline. It was too dark and misty to make anything out.

Suddenly the screaming and howling broke out again, followed by a shattering and splintering of wood. Erik tensed, and his hand strayed to his sword-hilt. The noise continued to assail his ears, but came no closer.

‘What d’you think it is?’ Arnald mumbled. Erik squatted down beside him.

‘I couldn’t say, Arnald,’ he replied. ‘But it seems to be staying on land. We’re lucky we didn’t pull up closer to the coast. We should be safe if we stay in the ship.’ He grinned heartily at the lookout. ‘No midnight swimming for you, my man!’

Arnald grimaced unwillingly.

‘Maybe this island’s haunted,’ he murmured, his eyes still wide.

A chill of fear froze Erik’s heart. But he knew it would not be a good idea to show his feelings in front of the crew. Standards had to be kept.

He clapped Arnald on the back.

‘Don’t talk nonsense!’ he laughed heartily. ‘That's the stuff of stories, not real life! You just stay here until Thorbard relieves you. It’s probably just some animal gone on the rampage.’

But the uncanny noises continued unabated as he spoke. He turned away from the lookout, and bent to climb back under the awnings. The crew looked up as he entered, and a flood of questions poured out.

He put up a hand.

‘Whatever it is, we’re safe here,’ he told them. ‘It’s on the land, we’re out in the firth. It can’t get to us. Arnald and me reckon it must be a bull or something, gone mad. We’ll need to be cautious in the morning, but we should be safe in a group. Now, try and get back to sleep. The thing ought to quieten down sooner or later. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.’

He got back into his warm sleeping bag, and tried to get to sleep despite the continued barrage of noise from the shore - distant, but not distant enough in his estimation. Around him, the crew grudgingly followed his example.

But the noises continued unabated throughout the night, ceasing only when the first rays of the rising sun crept through the gap in the awnings. And it was a long time before any of the weary crew felt like getting up that morning.