“That was fast indeed, Hunlaf,” shouted Drosten, his voice loud with drink, his Pictish accent stronger than ever. “However did you get them to bring ale so quickly?” I wondered if he was so drunk that he truly believed I had been responsible for the sudden arrival of the refreshments. Drosten rose, swaying slightly, before tottering over to the board. He accepted a slice of ham and cheese on a trencher, then held out a cup to be filled by a servant. Drosten took a deep draught of the ale and with another appreciative belch, staggered back to his stool.

Mancas cleared his throat, stepping closer to the fire.

“I thought we could discuss plans while we ate,” he said. “I hope that is acceptable.”

Drosten laughed.

“If you bring ale and food, you can do what you like.”

I was less thrilled than Drosten as Mancas sat upon the stool where I had been seated until moments before.

“Hereward,” he said, “I have been doing some thinking.”

It appeared Lord Mancas had decided who was his second-in-command. I supposed he was right in his appraisal. We had all looked to Hereward during the defence of the minster, and he was the natural leader of our small warband. And yet it still rankled me to be brushed aside so easily when the idea that had brought us here, and the words that had convinced the king to accept the proposal, were mine.

“Yes, lord?” Hereward replied, accepting a trencher and a cup of ale from one of the servants.

Mancas took a proffered cup and sipped diffidently. He did not take any food. A slender man, I cannot recall ever having known someone eat as infrequently and in such small quantities as Mancas.

“First, tell me what your plans were,” he said.

Hereward glanced at me and I shrugged. Discarding my cloak once more, I picked up a stool from the corner of the hall and carried it over to the gathered men. The seat was wet where rain had dripped through the thatch, and I used my sleeve to wipe it before sitting. Runolf, mouth full of ham and bread, shuffled his own stool slightly to make room for me by his side. I offered him a thin smile of thanks.

“To speak the truth,” said Hereward, “I am not sure there was much of a plan, beyond getting permission from the king and then returning to Werceworthe to begin building the ship. I was at Bebbanburg until a few days ago.” His expression darkened, perhaps as he thought of what he had left behind. “This was Hunlaf’s idea.”

He turned to me, clearly inviting me to speak. I nodded my thanks.

“As Hereward says, we planned to go back to Werceworthe—”

“Yes, yes,” said Mancas, cutting me off. “I heard all that. But it will not do.”