Tjostar the Wise has proven unworthy of his moniker. He paid me not to attack his village and then, pleased at his own cleverness, called off the watch. Never had easier work in my life - we slit the men's throats in their sleep and ploughed the women till dawn. Not much loot, but primo entertainment.
When we were sailing from Rannvaig, we heard owls hooting. An ill omen, so I ordered us to turn back to shore. Pukke laughed about how I'm supposed to be so brave, yet I'm afeard of the gods. I tossed him overboard with a knife between his ribs, but I could tell I'd lost a bit of respect in the lads' eyes. Will have to do something to prove I've still got the biggest prick on board, keep them from getting any stupid ideas.
Our visit to Hindarsfjall was a success. Priestesses dead, monument smashed, holy tomes burned, mead barrels drained. We divvied up the silver - I took the votives, Norulf son of Oddleik took the basins and spoons, Mons son of Gudvar took the candlesticks and jewelry, while Einar son of Toradar forfeited his share out of fear for Freya's wrath. Fine, all the more for us. Tomorrow we'll sail to Spikeroog, see what the merchant wenches have brought to market.