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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

And yet, as Hereward’s humour had improved, the closer we had got to Eoforwic and the king, the more nervous I had become. Æthelred was not a man to suffer fools and there were always rumours of the intrigues and murders amongst his retinue. If there was any truth to what was whispered about him throughout the realm, the king would think nothing of having us all slain, if my words did not please him, or if he suspected some insult or attack on his power.

I swallowed back my fear. I was a warrior now. I had killed men and should not be afraid to speak before any man. Even a king.

“Yes, lord king,” I said, fighting to keep the tremor from my voice. I spoke in the soft and even tone of one speaking to a skittish animal that might at any moment turn on me and sink its fangs into my flesh. “With your blessing, Runolf would build the ship, teaching others to do the same, and then we would sail to Rygjafylki to agree terms of peace and trade with the people there.”

“And you wish to do this in my name.”

I nodded, though it was not a question.

The king tilted his head, as if he had heard something far off, though I could hear nothing but the thrumming of the rain.

“And why would I back such an endeavour?” he asked.

“I believe such a pact would bring Northumbria peace and wealth.”

Æthelred licked his lips at the mention of riches. His avarice and ambition were as well-known as his violence and volatility.

“You do, do you, Hunlaf of Werceworthe? How so? You think Causantín will declare a truce with me?” Some of the men seated around the king laughed. “Why would the Picts care for what these Norsemen agree or do not agree?”

My mouth was parched and I clenched my fists at my sides to avoid trembling. I cleared my throat. The faces of the counsellors and advisors who sat beside the king stared back implacably. Some seemed bored, others vaguely amused. One man, whom I recognised as Daegmund, the priest who had baptised Runolf, sneered at me. What was I doing here? I had been so full of certainty in my plan, but despite my newfound self-assurance that came from bearing a sword and having survived my first battle, I was but a young man. Nobody of import. No matter how much I told myself I should not be afraid, I could feel fear welling within me. The last time Æthelred had spoken to me, I had been a novice monk. Why should he listen to me?

I felt foolish for believing I could convince the king of this course of action. But a small, prideful voice inside whispered that I had persuaded him once before. And I had been proven right. My actions had saved Werceworthe, and the king was no fool. He knew as much.