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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

Looking up, I squinted into the bright sunshine. The rain had stopped, the storm fleeing as quickly as it had appeared. The sun lanced down now in great beams from between the dark clouds. I searched the sky for a rainbow, a promise from God of better things to come, but I saw none.

“Hunlaf?” the voice said again.

I peered up at the shadowed face. A hand reached for me. After a moment’s hesitation, I grasped it and allowed Gwawrddur to pull me to my feet.

I had not moved from Wistan’s side and I looked about now as if awakening from a dream. My ribs and stomach ached from the Norseman’s knife blows. I half-expected to see Eafa still staring down at his son’s corpse, but he had gone. Further up the beach, I spied him with several other villagers heaving bodies into a great pile of the dead.

Gwawrddur followed my gaze and nodded.

“Eafa it seems has found a taste for slaying.” He glanced down at Wistan and sighed. “Perhaps revenge is all that is left for a father whose son is killed.”

I looked down at Wistan’s pale face. He had been a good man, brave and true. I had convinced myself that God had chosen me to defend the minster at Werceworthe, that it was the Lord who fanned the fire of anger within me, making me a formidable adversary. But surely it was not the work of the Almighty that I should believe myself above other men. That I should strut about proudly with disregard for the very people I sought to protect. I should have been a friend to Wistan, instead I had betrayed him. And now he was dead.

Gwawrddur must have seen some of my thoughts in the bleak expression on my face.

“You cannot take the blame for all that happens in this world, Killer,” he said. I scowled at the use of that name, turning angrily to face the Welshman. Dark mud and drying blood streaked his cheeks and forehead. “Each man can only be responsible for his own actions.”

“That is what I am afraid of,” I said, the anger ebbing from me as quickly as it had come. I was horrified to see what I had become. I understood then, all at once in a rush of clarity, how I had acted over the previous months. Gwawrddur had tried to warn me.

He placed a hand on my shoulder.

“You think you have done wrong,” he said. It was not a question, but I nodded. He sniffed. “So do better next time. It is all any man can do.”