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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

Runolf turned to the men gathered on the beach. All of us had armed ourselves, as if we planned to fight. The heft of my iron byrnie on my shoulders and the weight of my shield in my left hand gave me a welcome sense of protection, even though I knew that iron rings and willow boards could not protect our souls from corruption.

“Beorn. Os,” Runolf said, perhaps thinking of the two boats we had seen to the north. “Stay with Eadmaer. If anyone approaches, let us know, and we’ll come running.”

Neither of the warriors complained at being left behind. Beorn nodded at Sygbald, who was held upright between Bealdwulf and Drosten.

“Good luck,” he said.

Sygbald gritted his teeth and nodded grimly.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go, if we are going.”

It was cool under the trees, despite the warmth of the sun. The air was thick with the scent of loam and rotting vegetation. I sniffed and picked out the tang of woodsmoke too. It reminded me of the charred corpse of the day before. None of us spoke as we walked slowly along the muddy path that led into the gloom.

The silence was broken by a sudden croaking cry. We were all startled. Hereward and Ingvar, who walked at the head of the group, both took a step backward, colliding with Runolf, who swore. A raven flapped across our path, its broad black wings fanning the loamy air into our faces.

“By all the saints,” said Hereward, making the sign of the cross, and spitting to ward off evil.

“It is only a bird,” growled Runolf, pushing Hereward away from him.

“It is not only a bird,” said a woman’s voice.

None of us moved.

In the centre of the path stood a tall woman. How she had come to be there, I could not say. There had been nobody there a moment before, of that I was certain. She was a handsome woman, with a high forehead and full lips. Her plaited hair was white, and fell in a sinuous rope over her shoulder and between the curve of her breasts. Her eyes were the strangest hue and unlike anything I had seen before or since. They were the palest blue, but tinged with pink, as if they had been soaked in blood. They seemed almost to glow in the shadows beneath the trees. And, as if the colour was not enough to unnerve us, her eyes never ceased to move, flicking and swirling about as if unable to focus on any one thing for more than a heartbeat. Her gaze swept over all of us and none, without pause.