‘And yet he didn’t hesitate. He immediately formed up his housecarls and marched north. We came up that Roman road like a storm, sixteen riders abreast. And he sent riders ahead, calling out the fyrd for a third time this year. So we rode on, a gathering crowd of us, like pilgrims converging on Rome. It was marvellous to be a part of it, even though I knew I wouldn’t have to fight.

‘And even as we marched Harold sent envoys and spies ahead of the column. That was when he heard of the disaster that befell the northern earls.’

‘The battle at the Foul Ford - I was nearby.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ Sihtric said dryly. ‘Actually Harold believed the earls had been right to try to contain the Norse before they took Jorvik, and at least Hardrada had been held up. At the news of their failure Harold marched on, undaunted.

‘And so we came to Stamfordbrycg. We had marched since dawn, and I thought the English might rest. But Harold fell on the enemy immediately. Surprise, and the decisiveness to make use of it: those are his strengths. And there at Stamfordbrycg, as the day wore on - well, you know the rest; you saw it. The Norse were exhausted. You can win one battle; it’s hard to win two.

‘And Harold saw Tostig cut down. I believe it broke his heart. But he would do it again,’ Sihtric whispered. ‘Yes, he would do it again.’

Impulsively Godgifu touched his arm. ‘Don’t get too bound up in the glamour of war, Sihtric. Remember you’re the King’s priest, not his housecarl.’

Sihtric smiled. ‘Perhaps I am becoming addicted to the stink of blood. What sport, though! When you get close enough to it you can see why men will always wage war.’

‘And what of the prophecy?’ she asked. ‘After all that has happened, is the Aryan empire still achievable?’

‘I think so,’ Sihtric muttered, and his eyes glazed as he receded into a private world of calculation. ‘I think so, yes. Tostig was a rogue element. Harold should have cut him down when the Northumbrians rebelled. If Tostig had not lived, he would not have stirred Hardrada to mount his opportunistic invasion. And then Harold and his forces would not have had to endure this battle, win this victory. Indeed if Harold had been able to make his alliance with the Norse, as I urged him, his own forces would be stronger, untested - and he might, conceivably, have Hardrada’s Norse at his side, rather than lying slain over muddy Northumbrian fields ...’

‘If, if, if.’

‘Yes. There’s nothing to be done about it now.’

Messengers came into the hall. They whispered to the housecarls, who urgently spoke to the King. Harold stood, his face thunderous, and stormed out of the hall.

Sihtric was slightly drunk, and was confused. ‘What’s going on?’