As we reached what was left of the great hall, I closed my eyes. The air held the tang of old soot and ash, and I wondered how long ago this atrocity had occurred. I prayed silently for the souls of those who must have lost their lives. Was that the metallic scent of blood I could smell, or did I merely imagine it?

“Where are the dead?” asked Eadmaer, startling me. I did not know he had followed us. Glancing about me, I saw that Lord Mancas and his warriors had also come into the remains of the steading. Gersine too stood nearby, face pale and eyes wide. Drosten, Leofstan and Gwawrddur were also with us, grim-faced and alert. I remembered Drosten’s words to me about friendship and I nodded to him. I did not need to speak.

Looking away from the faces of my companions, I peered about the wreckage of tangled beams and splintered pillars. I could imagine the screams of pain and fear of those trapped inside when the fires started to rage. Had Aelfwyn been in the hall? Had I travelled all this way just to find her dead, slain before I could save her? Was I too late? But Eadmaer was right. If the hall and the other buildings had been filled with people, where were their bones? Surely some would remain. If dozens of people had lost their lives here, would we not see the sightless eyes of skulls staring at us from the debris, long thigh bones sticking starkly pale from the mounds of ash?

I reached down and touched one of the blackened beams. It was cracked and charred, and my fingers came away soot-smudged. But the timber was cold and damp. I noticed then that fronds of nettles and bindweed were poking through the rubble in places, entwining in the ruins; verdant life pushing through the darkness of death to the light above. This place had been destroyed and abandoned days, or even weeks before. And, free of man’s interference, the land had begun to claim the settlement for its own, to smother the buildings and obliterate all memory of those who had lived here. I wondered how long it would be before there was no sign that anyone had ever dwelt in this place? A generation? Two?

We passed what might have once been a smithy and fleetingly I wondered whether the fire might have started by accident, a stray ember borne on the wind from the forge. I dismissed the thought a heartbeat later. The buildings were far apart. It was inconceivable that sparks would have sowed the seeds of the blaze across all of them. No, this was a deliberate act of destruction.

We followed Runolf in silence as he stared about him bleakly.