Leofstan stared into Ahmad’s face.

“I think I know how to help him,” he said, his dark eyes earnest and unblinking. “But there is no time to waste.”

For a few heartbeats the monk and the thrall gazed fixedly at each other. Then, mind made up, Leofstan turned to me.

“Out of the way, boy,” he snapped.

I was so stunned by the shock of seeing Gwawrddur’s sorry state and Ahmad’s words that I did not move.

“We cannot tarry,” the old monk snarled, shoving me hard. I staggered a couple of steps and dimly felt the hands of others supporting me, pulling me away to give Leofstan and Ahmad room. I looked about me in a daze, unsure what was happening.

Gwawrddur was dead!

I had known it when he vanished beneath the waves, but now, to see his face, his unmoving body, brought the reality to me as keenly as a knife blade beneath a shieldwall.

Runolf was shouting orders, and the crew hurried to obey. We were still not safe from the storm. The wind whistled through the rigging, filling the reefed sail, causing the mast to creak and groan worryingly on the keelson. But despite the activity all around me, I was only vaguely aware of Runolf’s commands, and I did not move to respond. Scurfa shouted at me, demanding that I perform my duties in the Aft crew. I ignored him, and after a short time, he left me alone.

Nobody shouted at Ahmad to lend his hands to the sheets and braces. He was otherwise engaged, and I watched on in fascinated dread at what he was doing. As soon as I was out of the way, with Leofstan’s help he flipped Gwawrddur over onto his belly and then began to rhythmically press on his back between the shoulder blades. Leaning his weight onto his palms, Ahmad pounded the Welshman’s back over and again.

The ship hit another wave, slapping cold spray into my face. With the chill touch of the sea, it was as if I had awoken from a dream. The noises and movements of the ship and crew returned in a torrent, and I stared down at Ahmad, horrified at how he was battering my friend’s corpse.

“He is dead,” I said, my voice quiet, lost in the chaos of the ship.

Ahmad did not cease his movements. Leofstan watched on. I wondered what madness had seized him to allow Ahmad to so abuse Gwawrddur’s body. Reaching out, I placed a hand on the monk’s shoulder.

“Stop this,” I said. “Gwawrddur is gone.” My voice was stronger now, though I was dizzy with grief.

Leofstan shrugged me off. Ahmad continued his crazed pushing against Gwawrddur’s back.

“He is not gone,” the thrall hissed furiously. “He has just forgotten how to breathe.”

I stretched out a hand again, but Leofstan, sensing that I meant to pull Ahmad away, stepped between us.