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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

The men settled down to sleep by the river’s edge. Hereward led Gwawrddur and me away from the camp for a few paces. The foliage was dense. Thorns and twigs snagged at my cloak like grasping fingers, tugging at me from the darkness. For a short while, the three of us huddled close beneath a great fir tree.

“I will take the north,” Hereward said. This was the closest to Ljósberari’s settlement, and therefore, he must have imagined it would be the most dangerous. “Gwawrddur, you take the east. Hunlaf, you watch to the south. When you feel yourself growing tired, head back to the camp and rouse someone to replace you. Do not linger longer than you are able. We are close to the lair of our prey now, and we cannot afford to let our guard down.”

Each of us made our way deeper into the woods. Brambles caught in my leg wraps and I had to reach down to free myself. The thorns scratched my fingers and I sucked blood from them as I continued some way south. For a time I could hear Gwawrddur and Hereward moving through the trees, but when I halted by the broad, gnarled trunk of a yew, I listened to the night and heard nothing.

I leaned against the rough bark of the tree and peered into the absolute blackness. Pulling my cloak about me, I settled myself for a long night. After some time alone in the total hush and impenetrable blackness, my eyes began to deceive me. I thought I saw movement in the dark. But when I blinked, there was nothing there apart from the night and the shadowed trees.

When we had been preparing the defences of Werceworthe, Gwawrddur had said that no plan survived the first meeting with the enemy. I have never forgotten that. He was right, of course. Battle is unpredictable, and your foe will often surprise you, sometimes anticipating your moves, at other times making their own move that seems to fly in the face of all logic. The Welshman’s adage has been proven correct to me many times over the years. On most of those occasions, there was nothing that I, or indeed anyone, could have done to prevent a sudden change to the plans. But on that dark night in the forest of Rygjafylki, there can be nobody to blame for what happened next, but me. When I think back to that time when I was still young and strong, I am ashamed that I have reached such an old age. For my actions that night ultimately led to the deaths of others, and even now, I wonder why I was spared, when they were not.