I stared into Wistan’s dead eyes. Next time? I vowed then that I would never again behave as I had that winter. I would not lust for another man’s woman, nor break the trust of allies. But of course, I was yet a young man, and it was pride itself to believe I could fight against the weakness of my nature without the help of Christ.

Gwawrddur squeezed my shoulder.

“Enough moping, my friend,” said another voice. Turning, I saw Runolf walking towards us. His red beard jutted and his eyes shone. “Look about you.” He indicated the length of beach with his huge axe. I noticed that he had not yet cleaned the blood from its blade. “We have been victorious and there is much to celebrate.”

I took in the corpses littering the beach, the puddles of blood and the debris from the shattered ship snagged against sandbanks and reeds. The hulking corpse of the sunken ship still jutted from the brown water, waves lapping against its timbers and rigging. Beyond the wreck, across the Uuir, dark smoke still smudged the sky where the minster buildings burnt.

“I see little to be thankful for,” I said, my tone bitter.

“Well, I don’t know why you are so glum,” Runolf said with a wolfish grin. “I am beginning to believe you truly are blessed.”

“Blessed?” I asked, my voice rising with the anger simmering close to the surface. I looked about the death-strewn beach. The sound of women’s wailing, and the smell of smoke drifted on the breeze. “How am I blessed?”

Runolf raised his hand to calm me.

“Maybe that is the wrong word, but it seems to me your Christ god truly wishes us to finish building my ship.”

“He’s your God too,” I answered, without thinking.

Runolf ignored me, raising an eyebrow. No matter how many times I reminded him, Runolf refused to admit he had been baptised and had accepted Christ as his saviour.

“How so?” I asked.

“You recall there were two things that Mancas was struggling to provide us with?”

I stared at him, forcing myself to think beyond the traumatic events of that morning and remember recent conversations about the procurement of supplies. Gwawrddur began to smile, but still I was unsure of Runolf’s meaning.

As a reminder, the Norseman nodded towards the wreckage of the ship that rested less than a spear’s throw from the riverbank. My eyes widened as I finally understood. Mancas had been able to find almost everything we needed, but there were two things he had not yet been able to find, both crucial for us to be able to depart once the ship was complete.

“Ropes,” I said. “And a sail.”

Runolf grinned.

“You see?” he said, looking out to the wrecked ship.