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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

Thinking back to that terrible moment all those years ago, the three forces arrayed before Tannskári’s hall in the drizzle-damp wolf-grey morning, I wonder what my own face looked like. I imagine it was neither the stern mask of the hardened killer, nor the pallid, fearful face of the fishermen. I had chosen the life of a warrior and had killed men before, but confronted with the prospect of a clash that would almost certainly see us all slain, fear gripped me, turning my guts to water. Drosten’s dark gaze met mine and I offered him a small nod. There was no way we could leave him to his fate at the hands of the Picts, and yet, to fight would spell our doom.

My mind raced, searching for a way out, anything that could free us from this stand-off. Leofstan had often told me that my keen mind was my greatest weapon, and on that grey morning on Orkneyjar, an audacious idea suddenly entered my thoughts.

Tannskári’s intervention, with his smile and placatory words seemed only to have fanned the fire of the men’s anger, and as the day grew ever lighter with the rising of the sun far out over the mist-wreathed sea to our backs, the mood amongst the crew seemed to shift.

“Know this, Tannskári,” spat Runolf. “If I die this day, I will send you to the afterlife before me.” I shivered, even though I was not the object of Runolf’s fury.

Some of the other men, goaded by Runolf’s words, shouted their own insults at the Norsemen and the Picts. They could see no way out of this and so were seeking to swell their nerve, to stoke the fires of their anger so that battle-fury and bravery might carry them to victory, or at least a worthy death. A cornered animal is dangerous, for it will attack even when its death is assured. Warriors are the same, and I could feel the pressure building around me as the men, convinced there was no escape from this predicament, readied themselves to rush at their foe.

The idea had come to me fully formed as sometimes happens with the best plans. Or the most foolhardy. It was risky and the thought of it filled me with dread. It might well not work, and when I pictured what I would have to do, I thought I might puke. I offered up a silent prayer for guidance and strength. There was no time to await the hand of God, and if I dwelt on what might be, I knew I would never act. And surely, if there was even the slightest chance that I could prevent the violence that threatened to soak the morning in blood, it was my duty to try.