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Chapter 48 – Helgi
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... longhouse, spoon in hand, sipping quietly at his bowl of mutton broth. The steam rose in pale ribbons, carrying with it a scent of fat and herbs that still felt alien to him. He thought back to his youth among the farmsteads near Gothenburg. In those lean years, a hot bowl of meat broth was a rare gift—something tasted perhaps ten times at most. To encounter it now, in the smoky gloom of another man’s hall, stirred in him a small ache of memory, as if his younger self still lingered, astonished ...
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