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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

“Your face might work better than the prow beast for that, Os,” said Runolf. “But apart from my wife, I think it best not to scare the people of my homeland. And I think Estrid will be afeared enough to see me coming home without our beast prow or your face to frighten her.”

But as we sailed around the headland of the island on which Skorri’s steading was situated, sliding into the cool, sheltered shade on the eastern side of the land, we all grew silent and the mood aboard soured like old milk left in the sun.

Runolf’s face became set in hard lines and his smile was replaced with a scowl. Apart from the handful of small fishing boats we had seen that afternoon, it seemed there would be no risk of Os’ face, Runolf’s anger, or Brymsteda’s stallion prow frightening anyone. For where Runolf expected to find his brother’s prosperous farm, now run by his estranged wife, as we slipped through the shallow water towards the timber jetty and the shallow beach beyond, all that greeted us was a wasteland of destruction.

The great hall, which judging from its length, must have been an imposing structure, was now a charred husk, blackened timbers jutting from the ground like bones. Around the hall lay the remains of several other buildings, all black and crumbling.

No smoke lingered to haze the air. No dogs barked as Brymsteda’s side kissed the wharf and Garwig and Snell jumped ashore with ropes to secure the ship.

Nothing stirred in the settlement. It was as silent as a tomb.

Runolf’s face was aghast as he stared about him, no doubt wondering what had happened here. I too looked at the barren remnants of the steading. Whatever had occurred, it had ended in ruin and nothing living now stirred. Tears welled in my eyes and I cuffed them away.

Both Runolf and I had thought to find the women we were searching for, and yet it seemed we had instead sailed into a place of the dead.

Thirty-One

We stumbled from the ship, conversing in muted whispers, as if we did not wish to disturb the spirits of the land or the ghosts of those who had surely died here.

“What happened to everyone?” asked Eadmaer, voicing the question that was on everybody’s mind.

Nobody answered him.

Runolf walked silently up the grassy slope towards the burnt buildings. I followed, but many of the crew stayed close to Brymsteda, perhaps not wishing to walk on this foreign soil that was so obviously stained with blood. We had all heard tell of hall burnings, where people are locked in their hall at night and the building is set alight. Men with spears and swords would wait outside, not allowing any of those trapped within to escape the conflagration. Was that what had happened here?