Through my blurred and tired eyesight I finally made out the approaching silhouette of my local tavern, built alongside the river for the convenience of most nautical folk, it's wooden jetty sticking out into a widened section of the river attested to it's most common customers. Several small boats were already tied up at the jetty, their owners clearly still inside. One boat however had been being untied and prepared for the trip home, however this process had been halted as it's pair of occupants looked up to see the black silhouette of our longship approaching out of the night.

After several moments staring at our approach, the men recognised the ship and shook themselves out of their surprise to help us secure the mooring lines to the jetty.

"Lief!? The lord's ship? ...and you look half dead sir." The man was Jarnvind, a strongly superstitious man, and one of the oldest and best sailors and craftsmen among my comrades.

"It's a long story, and I don't have a lot of time. But if you'd care to gather whomever else of my lads are inside and join me for a round, I'd be happy to explain what i can." I stepped off the ship onto the jetty's creaky planking.

Jarnvind gave me a firm slap across the back nearly knocking me flat over in my weakened state. He laughed, though nervously, and walked me inside.

Bergjohf, the man who had been with Jarnvind, opened the tavern door and stepped in first. This got the attention of the entire tavern, Bergjohf was as tall as a mountain and built like an ox. Despite his commanding presence he was a quiet man, some thought him to be dumb because of it, but I had known him speak before. He simply held his tongue most of the time as a wise way of avoiding trouble and also I think he didn't believe in saying anything more than was needed.

The other 3 of us made our way under the low-beamed threshold, and Jarnvind beckoned for our friends to join us on a pair of benches beside the main fire. Just less than a dozen men sat on each long bench (including myself.) Behind them at least another dozen stood leaning in, some voluntarily, some through their drunken state.

I explained the situation slowly through my exhaustion, the soldier's challenge, how the lord would want to cripple my hands at the very least and prevent me from working a craft ever again as punishment and how I did not intend to be mutilated so! Angry drunken curses were being yelled on the lord's name when I had brought everyone briefly up to date.

"Men will come after me of course, and I'd rather not be here in the morning to meet them." I summarised. "I've taken the Lord's ship we were building, and drifted her down to the tavern mooring. I need men to sail her, but be sure before you agree, I will not force any of you to associate with an outlaw against your will." I was expecting at least one or two to back out and wish me luck, more likely many, but to my surprise all laughed and cheered to my support. My heart fluttered slightly with the pride of such loyal men, drunk as they were.

"I have one concern." spoke Jarnvind "The lord's ship was unfinished last I heard."

"Minor finishing touches." I explained "She lacks a little polish, and a few pieces of tackle, but nothing we can't sail without."

"That's fair, but i can think of one problem still"

"Oh?"

"She's got no name still. It won't do to sail in a ship with no name Leif" He spoke concernedly "For a start the gods can't bless a ship without a name, an' there ain't a sailor alive stupid enough to sail without the assurance of one god or another."

"you speak the truth, I know Jarnvind" I said pondering hard on the tough question of what to name our ship "she needs a name, a worthy and good one, for our journey will need all the blessings it can get. But what..."

"Gythja?" a young lad from the back of the crowd spoke up, I recognised him but I knew not his name.

"As in the priestesses?" I mulled the word over in my head "Yes, that would please the gods, and it makes a fine sounding name. But i feel it's still missing something."

"Picky as always, ye bugger" muttered Aedvin

"Silence! You'd rather have the gods sink ye?" Jarnvind yelled back. The two had a habit of disagreeing, luckily it was always kept below the lethal sort though.

"We're about to become outlaws, and that black ship there makes a terrifying sight, fit to strike a good fear of us into whomever we meet." I explained, leading up to my idea. "She should be Svarturgythja – the pitch black priestess."

A nod of agreements went around my gathered men and it was settled.