Thord's thoughts stopped. The jarl's uncle had arrived. No mistaking the booming voice. He could hear the man now all the way from the stables. The side door to the hall crashed open. The great hulking, leather-clad uncle to Jarl Brand Ketilsson swaggered in along with his company of stinking, sour-breathed men.
     "What in the gods' thundering voices is this about? What's going on here? He glared across the table at Thord. As always, his body smelled strongly of horse odors and galled flesh.
     Thord rose in deliberate ease, vacating the High Seat. He kept a somber face and motioned the man that the chair was now his, take it.

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