BooksBarbecue
Back A Night of Flames
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 were some two dozen men, all bearing weapons and some wearing byrnies. A few carried shields and the firelight glinted from more than one helm. These men were freed thralls, and if they had once been warriors, and knew how to wield those weapons, we stood no chance, no matter how skilled or brave we might be. Beyond the men, there was yet another score of youths and children who had taken up arms, mainly spears. The rest of the throng was comprised of women, the elderly, and children too young and scared to fight. But even without counting those who would flee at the first sign of combat, sheer weight of numbers would see us killed in moments. I had witnessed what untrained villagers were capable of at Werceworthe and I did not underestimate the folk who crowded the open ground before us.

My faith was sorely tested then. I believed in God and His miracles, but I could truly see no way we would survive the night.

“Ljósberari is dead!” shouted Runolf, shaking Scomric’s head to reinforce his words. Blood spattered his forearm and added fresh blotches to his already stained kirtle. “You are free now. You can live in peace. We have no quarrel with any of you. Our fight was with Ljósberari and the Frank, Chlotar.”

There was a stunned silence for a time and then a young man stepped forward. He was tall and wore a shirt of iron. The sword in his hand flashed as he raised it to point at us.

“The Master is dead!” he howled. “They have killed the Master.”

A rumble of anger ran through the crowd, their awe and fear of us dissipating as quickly as morning mist on a warm day.

“You have no need of him any more,” yelled Runolf, raising his voice over the growing anger of the crowd. “You are free of the burnings and torture.”

“The Master has been taken into the light,” shouted the tall warrior, his eyes blazing with the same madness I had seen in Scomric’s face. “It is a sign.”

The unrest amongst them grew, and they began shuffling forward, growing in confidence, their fury building as rapidly as the fire in the hall.

The heat at our backs was scorching now, as hot as a bread oven, but I could see that the throng would soon find their courage. Goaded by the fervent warrior’s words, their anger and devotion to Ljósberari would soon outweigh their temerity. Reaching for Runolf’s kirtle, I tugged him back through the doors and into the stifling, smoke-filled heat of the hall. The crowd surged forward, snarling and howling again, their voices demonic and terrifying, just as Audun had described them. Runolf and I leaned on the partially broken doors and once again he slammed the beam into place.