Gisli Turnip farmer, not overly wise
Helgi Gisli’s idiot cousin
Hedin Greedy merchant and boat-owner
Goran Grizzled caravan guard
Heidrek Young, cheerful caravan guard
Regin Surly caravan guard
Ingimar Caravan owner and merchant
Arnar Burly man of huge beard and few words
Prince Karle White on the outside, black on the inside; owes Ulfar for a broken arm; Cousin to King Jolawer
Galti Prince Karle’s henchman
Hrodgeir Galti’s servant
Alfgeir Bjorne King Jolawer’s right-hand man, Geiri’s father, Ulfar’s uncle
King Jolawer Scot Son of Erik the Victorious, king before his time
Greta Former flame of Ulfar’s; not happy to see him
Ivar Greta’s brother; even less happy to see Ulfar
Lord Alfrith A chieftain in the field
His Merry Men Not merry at all
Acknowledgments
As usual, this has not been a solitary enterprise. If it weren’t for super-agent Geraldine Cooke, it wouldn’t even be an “enterprise.” This doubly counts for editor, publisher, and all-round wonder woman Jo Fletcher, who not only publishes my merry Vikings but also makes my writing look approximately 93 percent better (numbers = truth = science). My fledgling writer’s soul would be crushed but for the tender ministrations of Nicola Budd, Tim Kershaw, and Andrew Turner, key cogs in the lean, mean publishing machine that is Jo Fletcher Books.
I owe thanks to the good people of Southbank International School—first and foremost librarians extraordinaire Christine Joshi and Ian Herne, who have given me enough encouragement and research for a football team’s worth of writers—but also every single student who has stopped me in the corridors, asked “how the book is going,” read the thing, and complimented me on the horrifically inappropriate swearing. You know who you are. I sincerely hope that none of you are actually intending to read this one, because it’s a fair bit worse.
To my dearest friends who read and even liked the first one—I am still stunned, frankly, by the reception. Thank you for putting up with me before, during, and after. I would promise to make more sense and tell shorter stories in the future, but we all know that’s not happening.
To Dagbjört at Nexus Books in Reykjavík for giving me my first-ever book launch—thank you. To kings of Viking Metal Skálmöld for the credits and the music.
To Nick Bain, who taught me to write. Technically, all of this is your fault.
To my mother, father, and brother—you are still the most terrifying readers I’ve ever met. Without you, this wolf would be a poodle.
And finally, most and always—to my wife, Morag. You are probably the most patient woman in the world, and I love you dearly.
Snorri Kristjansson
Hitchin, Hertfordshire
March 2014
Blood Will Follow Page 28