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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

Pulling away from Chlotar’s grasp, the girl moved to stand before Runolf. For a time she stared up at him, her expression impassive, inscrutable. Then, with the speed I had witnessed in Runolf when he fought, she lashed out and struck him across the cheek. The sound was shockingly loud in the pre-dawn dark of the forest. The chorus of birds that had begun to call and sing with the coming of the day, fell silent once more, frightened by the sudden slap.

“Do not speak to me, old man,” she said, her eyes narrowing with loathing. “You abandoned us.” Hot emotion bubbled beneath the surface of her words. For a heartbeat, her expression softened. She sighed as she looked up at her father. But then her features hardened once more and she hissed, “You are to blame for all of it. Mother is dead because of you.”

Runolf reeled, her words clearly hurting him much more than the slap.

“I did not…” he stammered. “I… I’m sorry.”

“I care nothing for your apology,” she said. “It comes much too late.” She hesitated, seemingly unsure what to say now. Her anger had flared up and died down as quickly as a drop of fat falling into a fire. She drew in a deep breath. “I am Chlotar’s now.”

The Frank giggled from where he watched the exchange.

With a last look into her father’s face, Revna said, “I will enjoy watching you burn.” Done now with Runolf, she strode back to Chlotar, who wrapped an arm around her and grinned.

Runolf’s face crumpled and his shoulders slumped. He had smouldered with a simmering rage ever since learning of his wife’s death. The thought of vengeance and of possibly finding his daughter alive had given him focus and a reason to live. Now, with Revna’s damning rejection, his anger had been snuffed out like a rush light pinched between thumb and forefinger.

On seeing Runolf’s abject sorrow, Chlotar laughed again. My heart twisted for my friend. I wanted to offer him a word of comfort, but my mouth was still filled with the rough, grease-laden wool.

“Don’t worry,” Chlotar said, “you will not need to live with the knowledge of your failure for long, and you will see your wife again soon enough.” Chlotar paused, as if expecting a response. Runolf did not meet his stare. He did not look away from his daughter. His cheeks glistened wetly in the flame light. Chlotar sighed, apparently disappointed at the lack of reaction. “Burn the boat,” he said.