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Chapters (88)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. I
  4. I
  5. II
  6. III
  7. IV
  8. V
  9. VI
  10. VII
  11. VIII
  12. IX
  13. X
  14. XI
  15. II
  16. I
  17. II
  18. III
  19. IV
  20. V
  21. VI
  22. VII
  23. VIII
  24. IX
  25. X
  26. XI
  27. XII
  28. XIII
  29. XIV
  30. XV
  31. XVI
  32. XVII
  33. XVIII
  34. XIX
  35. XX
  36. XXI
  37. III
  38. I
  39. II
  40. III
  41. IV
  42. V
  43. VI
  44. VII
  45. VIII
  46. IX
  47. X
  48. XI
  49. XII
  50. XIII
  51. XIV
  52. XV
  53. XVI
  54. XVII
  55. XVIII
  56. XIX
  57. XX
  58. XXI
  59. IV
  60. I
  61. II
  62. III
  63. IV
  64. V
  65. VI
  66. VII
  67. VIII
  68. IX
  69. X
  70. XI
  71. XII
  72. XIII
  73. XIV
  74. XV
  75. XVI
  76. XVII
  77. XVIII
  78. XIX
  79. XX
  80. XXI
  81. XXII
  82. XXIII
  83. XXIV
  84. XXV
  85. XXVI
  86. XXVII
  87. EPILOGUE
  88. Afterword

Wordless, she took away his cup - and she touched his chest, as she had on that day when she had helped pull him from the mire in Brittany, and suddenly he forgot about monks and prophecies. He felt his heart speeding, his pulse beating in his throat. It was as if the world expanded, the houses and the people flying away to the horizon, leaving the two of them isolated in this small Lunden house. He covered her hand with his. ‘What’s brought this on?’

She smiled up at him. ‘Do you fear we might be wasting our potential, Viking? I slog after my brother as he follows the King, while you train little English boys for war. All we talk about is prophecies and successions. We live in a tumultuous age - perhaps we even glimpse future and past through my brother’s prophecy - but we have no time for ourselves.’

He smiled. ‘Sihtric will be pumping information out of that old monk for a good hour yet, if I’m any judge.’

‘Then let’s not waste this hour, if it’s all we have.’ And she raised her face to his.

It was her first time. There was a little pain, and he could feel the blood she spilled. But she gave herself to him joyfully.

Afterwards he clung to her. He did not know when this moment might come again. 1066, he suspected, was not a good year to fall in love.

XI

XI

The very next morning, Sihtric insisted on an audience with the King. He declared that he had at last fully decoded his prophecy, and was ready to present its ‘remarkable message’ to Harold.

Godgifu tried to slow him down. ‘Are you sure? It’s a risky business to try to change a king’s mind.’

‘I have no doubt. My correspondence with the Moor confirmed it - my meeting with the fool Aethelmaer only served to clarify my mind. I worked through the night to resolve it all. This is destiny, Godgifu. Providence. I am the Weaver’s instrument.’ His eyes were rimmed red from the lack of sleep.

Impulsively Godgifu took her brother’s hands. ‘Not providence. The truth is that damned prophecy has led you far from your chosen path through life. Far from God. Your Weaver can have no conscience about the effect of his tinkering with our lives.’

He squeezed her hands. ‘Dear Godgifu. We have always had a prickly relationship, haven’t we? And yet you always look out for me. Even now you will help me - even today.’

She frowned, suspicious. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Never mind. Just be with me, Godgifu, before the King. And - bring Orm.’

‘Why?’

But he would not say.