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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

I had been certain that Gwawrddur would prevail against a single foe, but in those first clashes, when each warrior probed the other’s defences, testing the strength and skill of his opponent, I began to wonder. Toki was as fast as any swordsman I had ever seen. His stance was balanced, his footwork nimble and quick. Darting forward, he almost landed a blow. But Gwawrddur was also fast, and he managed to deflect the strike with the rim of his shield. Having drawn Toki’s blade off line, without pause, the Welshman flicked out the tip of his sword in an effort to score a hit on the younger man’s unprotected chest. With cat-like speed, Toki flung himself backwards, avoiding the blow by a finger’s breadth. He almost stepped outside of the fighting area, which would have cost him a point, but with a force of will, he kept himself within the staked out boundary, teetering for a moment before righting himself. Gwawrddur could have pressed his advantage then, striking with his sword or pushing Toki backwards, but the Welshman stood his ground.

Toki nodded to him, acknowledging the other’s forbearance.

They circled, both now wary of the other. Gwawrddur did not blink, his gaze never leaving Toki’s eyes.

Without warning, the Norseman leapt forward. The crowd gasped, as it seemed inevitable that the taller, younger man would connect with his wooden sword. But with an alarming apparent lack of effort, Gwawrddur closed to meet him, parrying the strike on his shield with a crack, then, with a sidestep and a twist of his body, his thick practice sword’s blade smacked down into Toki’s outstretched sword arm.

With a grunt, Toki’s weapon fell from his grasp. Rubbing his wrist, he glowered at Gwawrddur. The Welshman’s face was impassive. Toki must surely have been glad they were using wood, I thought. He stooped to retrieve his weapon, but Gwawrddur caught it under his foot and flicked it up towards the younger man. The Norseman caught it, but there was no thanks from him now. He swung the blade a few times in the air, testing the strength of his grip. I could see a change had come over him. Fury drained the colour from his face. And in that instant, the outcome of the fight was clear to me.

Thurid’s grasp on my hand tightened, but I was barely aware now, as I was held transfixed to see such sword-skill on display.

Toki’s attacks became increasingly savage. If his blows had struck Gwawrddur, they might have broken bones, such was their ferocity. But the Welshman was a master swordsman. He seemed to flow like water, avoiding every scything swipe, each vicious lunge.

It was over in a few heartbeats.