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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

Hot blood pumped into the brown waters of the river, staining them red. The sight of the blood seemed to ignite the flames of the villagers’ anger that these strangers would dare to sail across the North Sea to kill them and enslave their wives and children.

Hereward kept his men close to the water’s edge and he bellowed for the others to remain on the beach. But all was chaos and with screams of rage, I saw several of the armed craftsmen wading into the water, hacking with their axes and tools.

The second ship appeared to have run aground now. It was half submerged, leaning drunkenly to the side. The debris of the first ship spun slowly in the water, languidly colliding and scraping its way out towards the open sea. I could not tell how many men had already drowned, pulled down by their armour, or crushed beneath the wreckage, but there were still at least a couple of dozen Norsemen in the water, making their way towards us.

“To me!” shouted Hereward. “Form the line!” His voice held an edge of desperation. The villagers had long spears. If they remained on the shore, they could not lose against the Norse, who battled against the cold waters of the river. To meet them in the water was to remove our advantage, and in such conditions, the savage Norse would quickly seize the initiative. These were true killers, men who had risked all to reach our coast. They would not be so easily slain.

As I watched in dismay, a broad-shouldered Norseman, his plaited beard long and dark from the water, his teeth bared in a furious grimace, surged up to grasp the wrist of one of the fishermen who confronted him with a hand axe. Hammering his forehead into the fisherman’s face, blood splattered, bright against the muddy water. The Norseman wrested the axe from the fisherman and without hesitation, smashed his skull. The fisherman sank into the water like a stone. The water bubbled dark with his blood, and then he was gone.

“Back! Back!” Hereward yelled. Another villager was struck down by one of the bedraggled raiders.

At last, the men’s discipline began to return and they slowly retreated from the Norsemen who rose out of the river like sea monsters from a mead hall tale. Splashing through the water, pulling against the sucking mud, they came out of the river.

But one man did not heed Hereward’s call.

A tall man, the waters lapping at his thighs, stood unmoving before the attacker who had killed the axe-wielding fisherman. In the defender’s hands were a shield and spear. But inexperienced as he was, encumbered by the water and the mud, and without an iron-knit shirt for protection, the man could not hope to stand against the byrnie-clad warrior who was wading towards him.

“Father, no!”

The voice pulled my attention away from the water.