“Yes.” Gamal’s speech was muffled by the wad of bread and pottage he was chewing. “It was not a great day for the monks, that is for sure.” Across the small hall, Ida snorted at his friend’s understatement. “But,” Gamal went on, “Fridwin was angry at us. At you, and the boy.”

He waved a hand in my direction. I said nothing, but to be called a boy infuriated me. Does a boy fight with sword and shield? The instant I thought this, I pushed my anger aside. Perhaps my behaviour these past months warranted me being referred to as a child.

We were seated in the gloom of the small hall south of the Uuir, safe on Mancas’ land once more. Well, as safe as one can ever be. Hereward and Mancas had both insisted that we set a watch over the ship and the neighbouring settlement. Three ships had left Gyruum and it was possible they might sail a short way down the coast to seek retribution when they found that the two ships that had headed for the Uuir did not return.

Runolf had shaken his head at the suggestion.

“The wolves do not seek out the shepherd’s hound when they have bellies full of lamb. They have taken much from the minster to the north. They will return home now. There is no need to risk losing what they have.”

Runolf’s words had the ring of truth, but Hereward and Mancas were cautious. None could truly say what the Norse might do, so it made sense to set a guard. There was too much at stake. But I thought Runolf was right. He understood the way our foe thought. If he said they would not attack again, I trusted his judgement.

One thing was certain: the three ships that we had seen sailing into the North Sea out of the Tine had been laden with treasure. They had stripped the church at Gyruum of its gold and silver trappings, and as far as we could ascertain from the monks who remained, about a score of the younger men and half a dozen women were missing, most likely bound and taken as thralls. The Norsemen had even snatched some of the more valuable tomes from the scriptorium before putting the building to the torch. I wondered at that. They had seemed uninterested in the books at Lindisfarnae, but later we had discovered they had taken The Treasure of Life, or at least its ornate cover. Perhaps they had realised the value of the writing on the pages now, and not just the gold and gems that encrusted the leather that bound them.

Bealdwulf yawned expansively, then winced as the movement caused the scab on his cheek to split. We were all exhausted.

“A man will always blame those who bring him bad tidings. That is why Fridwin raged. It is the way of things.” He shrugged, and sipped his ale.