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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

Surging towards us, listing with the power of the wind in their sails and throwing up great sheets of spray as they ploughed through the waves, came two Norse sea-serpents. Their prows bore the carved heads of dragons and behind the ravening maws of their prow-beasts, the bellies of the ships were filled with dozens of armed and armoured Norsemen.

Ten

“Don’t just stand there,” roared Hereward, snapping me out of my reverie. “Remember what we have practised.”

I flicked a glance at Wistan. He was unmoving, his face pale.

“With me,” I shouted at him. He seemed unable to pull his gaze away from the approaching Norsemen. I understood the fear that gripped him. The ships were as lithe as wyrms on the surf, and the ranks of Norse raiders leering from the deck far outnumbered us. “Wistan!” I barked. “Follow me.”

At last he turned to look at me and I saw the reality of the situation dawning on him. Gersine was nearby and I grabbed his shoulder, turning him from where he too gawped at the ships.

Runolf and Hereward were bellowing orders, and, as if we had awoken from a dream at the same moment, we all started to move at once.

I tugged at Gersine’s sleeve. “Come on.”

We hurried along the river’s edge to where we would make our stand.

Beyond the usual supplies of hemp nets and ropes, each of the storage huts now also housed shields, spears and the other trappings of war we had taken from the Norse at Werceworthe.

Skidding to a halt, I darted into the hut that held my byrnie, and Gersine’s too. Lugging them out, I flung one of the iron-knit shirts to Gersine.

“Help him,” I said to Wistan. For a heartbeat he did not move and then, without acknowledging me, he set to helping Mancas’ son into the armour.

Dropping my shield and sword to the ground, I threw my own byrnie over my raised arms and head. Wriggling and jumping, I managed to get the iron-linked shirt partway on before it became stuck on my chest. I could not bend my arms enough to pull the shirt down, so was trapped with my hands in the air, my stomach exposed to the cold rain.