‘Oh, would you sing for us?’ Astrid, pressing her gifts against him. And that was that. I slunk back to my table while Golden Boy held the tavern spellbound with a gloriously rich tenor, running through all their favourite songs. I chewed my lukewarm roast and found it hard to swallow, my ale sour rather than salt. I glowered through narrowed eyes as Hakon stood bracketed by Edda, Astrid and various other wenches drawn from the shadows by his cheap show.
