“Now and then they spoke quietly; now and then they paced up and down, flexing their arms and stamping. They watched the boat gently bumping against the quay’s fenders—sealskin sacks packed with wool noosed over wooden bollards. They rubbed their eyes and pointed at something waterlogged drifting down the river. A bloated gray corpse, was it? Or part of a tree trunk. Then a mongrel came trotting along the quay, and sniffed, and turned up his nose at them. At length there were signs of life aboar...d the boat. Odindisa sat up and, with the crown of her head pressing against their sail tent, murmured her morning invocations and charms; then Bergdis hoicked back her side of the sail, but the moment she got to her feet she started coughing and couldn’t stop; missing the warmth of the women who had been lying on either side of her, Solveig curled up, still pretending it was the last night watch. Down on the quay, one of the men began to sing a dawn song: “Many a hand must grasp, Many a fist must hold The banded blades of oars Chill with the cold of morning.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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