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Chapters (76)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise forMATTHEW HARFFY
  3. BY MATTHEW HARFFY
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright
  6. Dedication
  7. Maps
  8. Epigraph
  9. Contents
  10. Place Names
  11. One
  12. Two
  13. Three
  14. Four
  15. Five
  16. Six
  17. Seven
  18. Eight
  19. Nine
  20. Ten
  21. Eleven
  22. Twelve
  23. Thirteen
  24. Fourteen
  25. Fifteen
  26. Sixteen
  27. Seventeen
  28. Eighteen
  29. Nineteen
  30. Twenty
  31. Twenty-One
  32. Twenty-Two
  33. Twenty-Three
  34. Twenty-Four
  35. Twenty-Five
  36. Twenty-Six
  37. Twenty-Seven
  38. Twenty-Eight
  39. Twenty-Nine
  40. Thirty
  41. Thirty-One
  42. Thirty-Two
  43. Thirty-Three
  44. Thirty-Four
  45. Thirty-Five
  46. Thirty-Six
  47. Thirty-Seven
  48. Thirty-Eight
  49. Thirty-Nine
  50. Forty
  51. Forty-One
  52. Forty-Two
  53. Forty-Three
  54. Forty-Four
  55. Forty-Five
  56. Forty-Six
  57. Forty-Seven
  58. Forty-Eight
  59. Forty-Nine
  60. Fifty
  61. Fifty-One
  62. Fifty-Two
  63. Fifty-Three
  64. Fifty-Four
  65. Fifty-Five
  66. Fifty-Six
  67. Fifty-Seven
  68. Fifty-Eight
  69. Fifty-Nine
  70. Sixty
  71. Sixty-One
  72. Sixty-Two
  73. Author’s Note
  74. Acknowledgements
  75. About the Author
  76. An Invitation from the Publisher

The night before, there had been another feast, and most of us had heavy heads from Mancas’ ale and mead. But we were young men, and we shrugged off the after-effects of the drink as easily as cormorants dry their wings in the morning sun. If I drink more than a single glass of wine now, not that Abbot Criba would ever allow it, I awaken with a mouth as furred and sour as a gooseberry. Back then at Uuiremutha, I was young and had stayed up long into the night, singing and riddling with Brymsteda’s crew. It was only as I had lain wrapped in my blanket with the hall spinning and the sound of snoring and farting filling my ears, that I realised I had laughed and drunk with warriors and fishermen, who until recently had kept themselves to those they considered their own. In the two weeks since we had first sailed Runolf’s ship, we had ceased to be small groups of people and, like the rods of iron that are beaten together into the blade of a sword, so the work of the ship had forged us into a crew.

Little did we know then, that our tempering had not even begun.

Everyone had come out to see us off and the wharf and riverbank was thronged with men, women and children. On the far bank, many of the brethren from the minster had also come to wish us well on our voyage. I saw Benesing and raised a hand to him. He waved back.

Gersine was also waving, and I followed his gaze to see Cwenswith, her golden hair blowing around her smiling face. The wind pressed her green dress against the curves of her body, and I felt a small stab of jealousy before I looked away.

The sun was bright in the sky, the southerly breeze brisk, but manageable. Just as it had been for the two weeks we had been sailing Brymsteda. Looking back now, I wonder if the clement weather had not lulled us all into a state of complacency. We had not been truly tested by the cruel sea. And when the clouds grew black, turning the day to night, and the wind swung about and howled from the north, fretting the waves and tearing at the sail and rigging, none of us was prepared.

Twenty

We made good progress on the first day, passing the Farnae Isles and Lindisfarnae by midday and then carrying on up the coast. I gazed at the white-streaked cliffs we passed, watching the throngs of seabirds on their craggy perches, gyring in the air, and dotting the waves. Gannets speared into the dark waters beneath the cliffs. Black-backed cormorants and shags dived under the surface to arise again some time later and further away than seemed possible. The southerly wind filled our sail and we rode north on the easy swell of a calm sea.