Ragnar is holding Sinric securely in his arms, all the lewdness gone in favour of warmth and affection. "We remember," he says. "I am heathen still, and..."

He shrugs. He won't presume to state what Sinric believes.

"It's a time for closeness and cuddling in long, dark nights," he says, hands stroking Sinric's rather tousled curls.