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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

Tannskári stepped forward. His eyes sparkled, despite the dull mist. His teeth were bright. Was he enjoying this?

“Come now, Hereward.” He spoke slowly in his mother tongue, and I was certain that Hereward and the other men of Northumbria would understand most of his words. “I have agreed with Eddarrnonn here,” Tannskári went on, “that you and your crew are free to go. You only need to leave Drosten here. He is but one man, and a murderer at that.”

Runolf stepped forward menacingly.

“He is my shield-brother,” he snarled, raising his great hands and clenching them into fists, as if gripping an unseen opponent. Tannskári swallowed and his smile faltered. Perhaps he was imagining those huge ship-builder’s hands closing around his throat. “I would trust Drosten with my life,” Runolf said, “as once I trusted you. It saddens me to see your word is worth less than spit in the wind. You are a nithing.”

Tannskári shrugged, shaking his head sadly.

“Your words are like this mist. They do not hurt me.” He waved a hand, taking in the hall and the buildings around it. “But my hall is built on the land of the Picts. I cannot allow you to take Drosten with you. But have I not been fair to you?”

“Fair?” snapped a new voice. Lord Mancas, bare-footed, kirtle loose and unbelted, had stepped out of the hall. Some of the women and children were milling about there too, pale-faced and anxious. I saw with a shock, Thurid’s golden hair. Her brother, Lambi, held her hand. His eyes were wide and staring as he took in the armed men. One of the hall’s hounds, quiet now, but still tense, ears up and hackles raised, stood beside the boy. There was death in the air, and I could not imagine that this was how Tannskári had planned for this encounter to go. Surely, he did not wish for there to be fighting so close to his family. But however it had come to pass, we now faced a dilemma, with three bands of fighting men facing each other. The wrong move now would certainly bring death on its heels. The only uncertainty was who, and how many of us, would die. It seemed to me that if fighting erupted, however valiantly we might struggle, in the end Brymsteda’s crew would be slaughtered.

“Fair?” Mancas shouted again, his voice rising in anger. “You have taken my silver and now betray us.” He was ever concerned with his silver, that man. The crew let out a rumbled growl, the fire of their anger fuelled by their lord’s fury.

Tannskári sighed.