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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

Askold and the others kneeled over Guthfrith. Hands dug into the bloody darkness of his body, and tore back Guthfrith’s ribs with a crunch of splintering bone. Gudrid could actually see the heart pumping, surprisingly big, and lungs billowing. Here was a man, a living man, his inner workings so easily exposed. Askold rummaged in the cavity, grabbed the lungs with his big hands, ripped out their roots and spread them out over Guthfrith’s shoulders. Then Askold stood up, his arms and chest bloodied as if he had been slaughtering a stubborn ox. Even now Guthfrith lived on, Gudrid saw to her horror. Askold laughed, and spat in the hole in Guthfrith’s back.

In that instant Gudrid knew she would never again lie with Askold, not as long as she lived.

Bjarni said dismissively, ‘Not bad, Askold. When he’s dead, nail him to a wall. Now let’s get on with it. If we move fast we’ll hit the monastery before the monks have time to hide anything. We’ll leave a couple of men to watch the boats, though. We don’t want anybody getting clever and making a bonfire of them. And torch these hovels.’ He glanced around the island. On the causeway that linked it to the mainland, two figures were struggling through rising water. ‘We don’t want anybody getting away either. You, Leif, Bjorn, go to the head of the causeway. Stop anybody leaving.’

Leif, a big, slow-moving man, grumbled. ‘And leave the treasure to you?’

‘You’ll get your share,’ Bjarni said patiently. He glanced at Gudrid. ‘Daughter, go with them.’

Gudrid tried to speak. ‘Father—’

Bjarni stood close to her, so his creased face filled her vision. ‘Why did you come here? What did you expect to see? I tried to warn you.’

‘Does it have to be so - wanton?’

Bjarni thought that over. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I think it does. It is easier to cut a man down if you think he is less than a man, not human at all. The wantonness isn’t the point, but it helps.’ He glanced down at Guthfrith. ‘But I think you’ve seen enough. Do as I say.’

She didn’t have the will to disobey.

XVIII

XVIII

As they reached the island Belisarius saw that the raiders were already at work in the village. The people fled, running north, men with bundles of belongings, women with children in their arms, others helping the frail and elderly, some even trying to drive livestock ahead of them. Two bright red splashes showed where people had already been killed. And as Belisarius watched, the modest square houses of the village blossomed into flame, one by one. When Guthfrith’s big house burned down the gaunt outline of the sacred tree was revealed.