Georgios fell back in the face of his fury, shocked at the change in intensity, slow to match it. But at length he rallied and the fight pitched into the lowest, dirtiest, meanest of brawls. Erlan took cuts and blows on his body until suddenly there was his chance. The dust shifted under Georgios’s hobnailed sole, his balance faltered, Erlan slammed his foot into his groin. The Byzantine howled and doubled over. Erlan’s knee lifted to strike his nose and the bone crumpled. Georgios fell back and Erlan was on him like a wolf, beating his face with the pommel of his sword until his limbs went limp and his sword dropped from his hand.

‘Enough,’ called the general. Erlan brought down his fist again and felt the jawbone shatter. ‘I said enough, God damn it!’

Erlan stopped. He was astride Georgios’s chest, panting. The general was staring him down, his sad eyes full of venom. ‘Get off him. Now.’

‘Far til Hel,’ Erlan muttered, and split the man’s throat to the bone.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The guard crashed over the table in a spray of blood.

‘Fly, brothers, fly!’ yelled Valrik, a foot of bloody steel in his hand. He shoved Lilla away from the headman. ‘Go! If we don’t make the ship, we’re all dead!’

Varkonni spears and axes flashed. Valrik’s men had only knives or seaxes. Their larger weapons were stowed at the village gateway. A gesture of trust, now proven futile.

Einar was one of the first to react, roaring like a baited bull and upending his table into the path of two Varkonni guards heading for Lilla. The oxen bolted, dragging the hapless girl roped to them straight through the fire and on into the darkness in a trail of sparks and flame. The headman was yelling orders at his men, his fat face still shining with grease.

Meanwhile Valrik was bawling for his crew to rally to him. Lilla saw a spear on the ground and picked it up. Screams and shouts were breaking all around her. She looked for Gerutha but instead saw a shadow flying at her. She danced left and raised the spear. An axe crashed where she had stood a moment before; she lunged, felt the spear-tip sink into flesh, twisted and pulled and then a body fell at her feet.

She turned, gasping. Arrows fizzed through the air. ‘On me!’ Valrik slashed at another face, then turned to leap through the flames. With no time to question, she hitched her skirts and jumped. For an instant, a blaze of heat enveloped her, then she was through and on and sprinting down the slope towards the gate.

Behind her raged a storm of killing; everywhere Northmen fighting for their lives. She glanced back and glimpsed Einar’s bulky frame swinging his fists like clubs. She screamed his name.