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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

“There is much light in the blood of a Christian,” he said when he had finished, grinning at me and Chlotar with reddened teeth. “It would not do to let it go to waste.”

I wanted to look away, or even to force Chlotar to slay me too, that I would not have to watch this horror any longer. We were all going to die here. That much was clear to me, so why not end it now, before I had time to grieve the man who had been like a father to me? Better that, than wither and weaken in the prison with the others, only to then be burnt alive. If I could rise and fight, Chlotar might be compelled to kill me quickly. But still I could not move. My body refused to obey me and instead of springing up, I watched the blood spreading around the fruit on the table, dripping down onto the rush-strewn floor where Leofstan lay, the light of life gone from his eyes, blood still oozing from the deep slash in his throat. I watched as Ljósberari emptied the cup of my friend’s lifeblood, and as he began to laugh, adding his maniacal cackle to Chlotar’s giggle, a great roaring, like a waterfall or a gale, filled my ears. I started to shake uncontrollably and the world darkened around me. I could feel my grip on consciousness slipping away. For a few heartbeats, I willed myself to remain awake, to push my body up, to fight.

But as I watched Ljósberari dipping his finger into his cup, scraping it around the rim and then sucking it clean of the last precious drops of Leofstan’s blood, something snapped within my mind and I swooned. As I tumbled down into darkness, I was glad to be free from this nightmare. The rushing sound drowned out all noise and I could feel myself falling, falling. The last thing I saw were Leofstan’s shocked, unseeing eyes, and I hoped I would never awaken again.

Fifty-Three

When I awoke, I was cold. Shivering, I opened my eyes. I still wore the thin linen robe and I wished I had my kirtle, breeches and cloak to keep me warm. All about me was darkness. Slowly, I began to make out details, shapes picked out by thin silvered slivers of light that forced themselves between the slats and planks of the walls and beneath the solid door. Figures were huddled on the floor and propped against the wall. The grating buzz of snores, loud in the gloom, was the only sound. I sniffed, and the noxious stench left me in no doubt that I was back in the hut with my friends.

All except Leofstan.