Johnston McCulley

“ Jarls rode by with their guards, shield maidens smiled when they saw Svend's camp, thralls trotted beside the horses.
Svend the Bloody ordered out his men and had the horses made ready. Magnus stood to one side talking to two of his warriors. Edvard Haakonsson came from his tent, dressed in his armor, the bracelets of rank upon his bare arms.
"Kinsman!" Svend's loud voice called to him.
"Jarl?"
"It is my wish that you remain in the camp for the day," Svend said.
"Remain in the camp?" Edvard gasped. "When there is a fair and a king to be seen? ”

“ Svend the Bloody said nothing more. He swung into his saddle and raised his hand. The others mounted after him. The thralls buckled their belts and prepared to run beside the horses. Magnus turned quickly to the two warriors with whom he had been talking.
"You understand?" he whispered. "Start with us, but drop out along the way. Return to the camp, and pick a quarrel with him. And then slay! He must be dead before we return. Make up what story you will, and Svend will not punish. Your tale will stand. There will be none but thralls to see." ”

“ Svend replied. "And how am I to prevent him seeing Olaf? It is his right."
"Being a stranger, perhaps that task will be an easy one," Magnus answered. "Tell him that there may be trouble between the followers of the gods and the Christian jarls. Say that you must go to the king, since he has commanded, and that you leave this Edvard at the camp, in command in case of a surprise." ”