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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

“Perhaps, perhaps,” said Mancas, his tone placatory. “But the king has placed me in charge of this endeavour, and whilst I did not seek the position for myself, I can see that he was wise to appoint me.” Nobody spoke. The only sounds in the hall were the men chewing and the murmur of the rain on the thatch. I did not turn around, instead I helped myself to a trencher of bread and placed some ham and a sliver of cheese atop it. As I reached out for a cup to fill with ale, Mancas spoke into the hush. “Like Werceworthe, my lands are on the banks of a river, near the sea. There is good timber forest there, and on the coast there are men, both bondsmen and free, but all loyal to me. They build and repair the ships of the fishermen and merchants who trade along the coast all the way from Pictland to the land of the South Saxons, and even Frankia, across the Narrow Sea. So you see, we have all that will be needed right there, all in one place.”

“There are forges?” asked Runolf. “And smiths?”

I turned and saw that Runolf’s eyes gleamed in the firelight. He was finally daring to believe he would build his ship. I was sure he could already see it in his mind’s eye.

“Of course,” said Mancas. “We will surely need more iron, but I will see to that.” Runolf was smiling and nodding. Mancas looked over to where I stood. “You will be at home there too, young Hunlaf.”

I drank from my freshly poured ale and met his gaze over the rim of the cup.

“How so?” I asked, feigning indifference.

“There is a great minster adjacent to my land. Nay, two really. Two minsters under one abbot. And a fine stone church where we can pray for the success of our venture.”

“Your lands are near Gyruum, then?” I asked, excited in spite of myself.

I knew the minster that he spoke of. Beda Venerabilis, whose writing and knowledge had travelled to all corners of Christendom, had been a member of the brethren there from his childhood until the Almighty welcomed him to His right hand some six decades later. Under Leofstan’s tutelage, I had studied some of the texts written by the great man’s assured hand. His De arte metrica helped me understand the finer points of Latin verse and De temporum ratione made me feel insignificant and slow of thought, such was its brilliance. It always amazed me to touch the vellum that the great man had held, to follow the tracery of the well-formed script that Beda’s own quill had scratched onto the parchment.