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Back A Night of Flames
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

Leofstan pulled me closer, lowering his voice yet further so that none should overhear.

“If it is to happen, water would once again fill his lungs. Drowning him, even on dry land.”

I shook my head in an attempt to rid myself of the terrible image Leofstan had painted for me.

“Do you trust Ahmad’s word on this?”

“Ahmad’s knowledge brought Gwawrddur back. Why would I doubt him now?”

I looked over at the thrall, who was busy coiling a length of rope. I had no reason to distrust Ahmad beyond him being a slave and a foreigner.

“You think Gwawrddur might yet die?” I asked.

“That is in God’s hands now. Pray for him.” Leofstan patted my arm and offered me a small smile, perhaps noting my grim expression on hearing his words about what might come to pass. “The Almighty saw fit to bring him back to us, so I am sure it is in His plan that Gwawrddur live on.” He smiled again, but his eyes looked uncertain, and so, for the rest of that long day, as I rowed I prayed under my breath, reciting the paternoster, and then the prayers of the monastic offices at their correct times, or as close as I could figure. I prayed that God would be merciful and spare Gwawrddur. I also beseeched the Lord that we would find the shelter Runolf had spoken of.

After the rudder had broken there had followed another spell of shouting and anxiety aboard as Runolf, Snell and Scurfa all worked as quickly as they were able to mend the damage. Without the steerboard, it became very difficult to guide the ship, and without that ability to steer, if another strong wind caught us out at sea, we would struggle to sail to safety. As they worked, Brymsteda again lost headway and once more began to twist and roll in the swell. The lift to morale that had come from getting the sail aloft and then from Gwawrddur’s rescue began to dissipate, as the men started to question our chances of surviving yet another disaster.

Runolf, though, trusting in his seamanship and in the ship he had built, did not appear to be unduly concerned. It didn’t take long for him, with the help of the two fishermen from Uuiremutha, to rig up a replacement for the leather strap using a length of rope.

“That will serve,” he’d said, patting the tiller and offering the crew an infectious smile. “But not for long.” The men had groaned. “Do not fret,” Runolf had continued, “and don’t complain. Save your strength, for you’ll be needing it. To the oars. The wind is dying and we need to pull Brymsteda westward.” At that, the moaning from the crew had intensified. But soon enough the wooden bungs had been removed from the oarlocks, and the long oars had been unshipped.