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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

I was confused. My stomach rumbled and I decided I should not waste good food when I had the chance to eat. Picking up the bowl of porridge, I quickly spooned it into my mouth, chewing and swallowing carefully now.

“You certainly like my mother’s cooking,” said the girl, her eyes sparkling like the sun-licked waves.

“I didn’t get much to eat yesterday,” I replied, my mouth full. “I would eat anything now.”

She laughed at that and I squirmed, thinking of how my words must have sounded to her.

“I did not mean…” I stuttered. “Your mother’s porridge… It is fine porridge.” I stopped talking and finished the oats, scraping the last remnants up with my finger and licking it clean. The action made me think of my dream and I felt my cheeks redden. I showed the girl the empty bowl, as if to prove my point about her mother’s food.

She laughed again. Taking the bowl from me, she disappeared into the gloom of the hall. Moments later, she reappeared, her mother’s voice following her.

“Thurid Tannskárisdottir, you get yourself back here and help with the cooking. The men will be hungry later and there is much to do.”

The girl, whose name must have been Thurid, pulled a face and called over her shoulder, “I’ll be back directly.” Then, in a quieter voice she said to me, “Come on. If I stay here, I’ll miss the fun.” She reached for my hand and I thrilled at the touch. Just as she was leading me after her, away from the hall, Gersine stepped into the daylight, yawning and rubbing his eyes. In his hand he held a bowl, which I assumed held porridge.

“Where are you going?” Gersine asked in Englisc.

“I’m not sure,” I replied, certain that I would go wherever Thurid decided to lead me.

“No time to waste,” she said, and, grasping Gersine’s empty hand, she pulled us both eastward away from the hall and her mother’s calls for her.

Gersine shook off his sleepiness quickly in the presence of Thurid and I felt a stab of jealousy as we ran, all three of us hand-in-hand, around the back of the hall and up a low rise. Gersine had Cwenswith waiting for him back at Uuiremutha. When we were some way from the hall and could no longer hear the shouts from Thurid’s mother, we slowed the pace. I was glad to stop running as my bladder was full to bursting. But I felt a keen sense of loss as Thurid let go of my hand. Gersine ate his porridge as we walked, emptying the bowl without choking, which needled me. Again he enquired where we were going. I asked Thurid.

“Your friend does not speak our tongue?”