"It is a land where the clans could be happy.

"There are two ways to reach that land. One is by sea." He traced a route from the Skagerrak across the North Sea, southward along the Atlantic coast and through Gibraltar. Grim eyes watched. "Although perhaps we would not have to go that far. This might serve as well." He pointed to the coast along the Bay of Biscay. "But if every fishing boat left filled with warriors, they still would be too few. By the time the boats could make a second trip, those few would be dead at the hands of the tribes who live there now.

"The second way is across the land, after boats have made the short trip here." He ran his finger along the shores south of the Baltic. "The tribes of each land we entered would fight, of course, and their people are very numerous, so there are many of them for each one of us. In some of those lands the chiefs hire foreigners in their armies, so Sten never went hungry for food or fight. And their warriors, which they call knights, are less skilled with weapons than we. Also, their warriors do not care to go on foot. If they must go into battle on foot, they prefer to delay. He even found some who would hardly be able to fight after a day's march. Do not be mistaken. They have fierce men, men not afraid to die"-here the old chief paused for effect, then spoke slowly and clearly-"but never did he find any knight who was a match for one of our warriors.

"Even so, if the Sea Eagle Clan landed here"-he pointed to northern Poland-"at the nearest place to their homeland, and started south, the knights of that district would attack them on horseback and kill many. And the chief of that land would gather a strong army, of many hundreds, and attack until no man of the Sea Eagles was left alive, they would be so outnumbered. And what then of their women and children and the spirits of their dead?

"But here is a place of low sand hills along the coast, covered with forest, and only a few fishermen live there." He pointed to a stretch of Polish coast. "And behind the sand hills are marshes, where knights cannot cross on their horses. If the Sea Eagles landed there, it is likely that they would not be strongly attacked so long as they stayed there.

"And what if the Otter Clan followed, and the Bears, and then others? This district behind the coast," he continued, his big finger circling inland, "also has large forests. If enough warriors landed on the coast, they might march in strength and defend and hold some of the forest while still more of the people landed-freeholders, women, children and thralls. If all the clans landed there, I believe they could then cross the lands to the south, regardless of the armies raised against them, and take and hold a land near the southern sea."

The old chief looked around the split log table for a moment without speaking, and a small smile began to play around the corners of his wide mouth. "I see that Jaavklo of the Gluttons wants me to sit so that he may speak. He wants to ask me how I propose to move the tribes across the sea in a few score fishing boats that cannot take more than a dozen men each, besides the oarsmen.

"I led the Wolf Clan before I was chosen chief of the Svear, and I have talked about this to the warrior who now is chieftain of the Wolves, Ulf Vargson. He in turn held council with his warriors and freeholders. And it is agreed. The Wolf Clan will send out half a dozen fishing boats of warriors with Sten Vannaren to guide them. They will find this place I spoke of," he pointed, "land the warriors and come back for more.

"But on the second trip, all our boats will go, and most of them will go here"-he pointed to a harbor on the Polish coast-"where there are ships large enough to carry a hundred men besides the oarsmen. And they will seize such of those ships as they can, returning here with them."

Strong yellow teeth began to show in the torchlight around the table.

"The Wolf Clan would go alone if they had to, but I know they won't have to. I know the other clans too well, from many raids and fights. And the Sea Eagles had decided to go before we did. If all the clans unite, our combined strength can bring us to the southern sea.

"Look!" Axel Stornave knelt for a moment and picked up a bundle of pine branches that had lain on the floor behind his seat. He held one branch up and snapped it in his hands. "By itself it has little strength," he said. "But now"-he took as many together as he could wrap his huge hands around, with a great effort strove to break them, then held them overhead unbroken.

"Which of you will go back to your people and join them with us?"

Every man around the table stood, most of them shouting approval. Axel still stood, with one hand in the air, and in a few moments the others settled to the benches again, aware that he was not done.

"I knew it," he said. "And when you take this matter to your people, they will agree to it, for this winter has caused every man to think. But we can't delay. If we can make no crop this summer except of hay, and if next winter is at all like this one has been, we will be weak and hungry in another year. We must all be gone before winter comes again. Nor can we winter across the sea except in force, for we must be able to take what we need by force from the people there.

"Our harbor is free of ice now, at last. Our people already have been killing the rest of the cattle and drying the meat over fires. We will send the first boats on the day after tomorrow, the weather willing. After our first war parties have landed, two boats will go here." He pointed to the island of Bornholm, between the Swedish and Polish coasts. "One will wait to guide the first boats of the Jotar to the landing place." He looked down the table at one old enemy, Tjur Blodyxa, and then in the other direction at another, Isbjorn Hjelteson. "The other will guide the first boats of the Norskar." The old man grinned. "Maybe you can get the Danes to 'loan' you some ships."

A scowl had begun to grow on Tjur Blodyxa's surly face, and he stood without leave. "And who will lead this expedition?" he asked.

Axel Stornave said nothing for a moment, savoring the surprise he had for the Jota chief. "Not me," he said. "I'm too old. That leadership is what we must decide next."

It was past midnight. They had agreed that the tribes would act independently in moving their own people, except that the Wolf Clan of the Svear would pick the place. But the war leader of those who had landed would also be of the Svear. Then the clan chieftains of the Svear elected Bjorn Arrbuk as war leader. He was the tribe's most famous fighter and its most famous living raid leader. Afterward, they questioned Sten Vannaren about the place they would land and the country where they hoped to go.

Now they were going to bed. Axel Stornave stepped out the door to look at the night and found new snow ankle-deep on the ground.