And then the decision was taken from Drem. As more men pressed onto the steps to the cabin, the man with the sword who’d just tried to carve a slice from Drem’s face was pushed forwards, and without thinking Drem stepped in to meet him, slipping past his sword, slashing with his bone-handled seax across the man’s arm, chopping with his axe between neck and shoulder. The man screamed, blood bubbling in a fountain as he collapsed, tripping the man behind him.

Pain lanced across Drem’s arm, a spear-thrust grazing him, a hand gripping his axehaft, pulling him forwards. He slashed and stabbed wildly with his seax, heard a scream, the grip on his axe pulling him off balance. He stumbled, dropped to one knee, something hard glancing off his head, white lights exploding in his vision as he stabbed blindly, felt his blade punch into something, the resistance of flesh, the grate of bone.

His vision cleared and he was still on one knee, his knife blade stuck to the hilt in the thigh of the man who had gripped his axe haft. More bodies were pressed behind him, men shouting, yelling, reaching for him. He tried to see his da, but there was a crush about him, no sign of Olin, though he did hear a man scream, which was encouraging – meant that fighting was still going on, just as long as the one screaming wasn’t his da.

Drem twisted his blade inside the man’s leg, heard a corresponding scream, rising in pitch and felt the grip on his axe disappear. He wrenched his seax free of the man’s thigh, a gush of hot blood over his hand, and he tried to stagger to his feet. More blows, hands grabbing him, dragging him in all directions, and he was lurching forwards, then his feet were leaving the ground and he was being carried, passed down the steps of the cabin and into a courtyard. The noose of a rope was slipped around his neck, yanked tight; it was Drem’s turn to scream, fear erupting in his belly, gave his limbs strength and he kicked and stabbed and hacked. There was a sharp pain in his left arm and his axe was gone, hands holding his other arm, pinning him, twisting and then his seax was gone, too.

‘DREM.’ He heard his da roar, ‘DREM.’

‘Da,’ he tried to yell back, but the noose around his neck was too tight to flex his vocal cords fully. He saw branches overhead, a rope hurled across them, hands grabbing it, and the pressure about his neck was growing and he was being hoisted upright, his feet dangling and men were shouting and jeering and he couldn’t breathe, his hands grasping at the rope around his throat.