‘Slaves,’ Macson said grimly. ‘German monks become wealisc.’ Aelfric stared at him, disbelieving. ‘Is that triumph in your voice? Are you enjoying this?’

Macson made to answer, but Belisarius raised a hand. ‘Enough.’ He turned to Boniface, who sat quietly on the bed, his eyes closed, his hands joined as if in prayer, the tumour on his face black in the uncertain light. ‘Domnus. They died at prayer. That must count for something. And the bones of the saint - the raiders found them, but saw no value. I think they can be saved.’

Boniface nodded. ‘Thank you. That comforts me. But you must not be concerned for me, or the brothers. It is just as the prophecy foretold.’

‘Yes. And you knew it, didn’t you, old man? You knew the raiders would come -you went through the calculation; you knew it would be this month.’

Boniface whispered, ‘Of course they would be Northmen in their dragon ships. What else could the Menologium refer to? And I knew that they would come this month. I’ve known it for years. I’ve been waiting for this day to come, this month, this year.’

Aelfric said, ‘Why didn’t you warn us?’

‘Because the prophecy must be fulfilled. Because the Weaver willed it.’

‘And what about us? Don’t we matter at all?’

‘Our work has been to preserve the document through the long dark ages of illiteracy and ignorance and pagan superstition. I told you that, Aelfric. That task has been completed - you’ve helped me do it - and so, no, we don’t matter any more.’

Belisarius shook his head, appalled. ‘You’re suggesting that the purpose of this monastery, of all your centuries of labour and devotion, perhaps the purpose of the whole monastic movement, was merely to protect one enigmatic scrap of prophecy? All those monks, all those dozens of generations?’

Boniface smiled. ‘The Weaver sees all. The Weaver controls all. But now our usefulness is done. One stanza is complete; the next is about to be read. The Northmen have come, just as was foretold in the prophecy, and we are to be discarded. All that remains for us to do is to deliver the prophecy into their hands ...’

Macson slammed his fist into the wall. ‘What? Are you saying we should give the prophecy to the raiders? Has that tumour sucked the brains out of your head, old man?’

Belisarius held him back with a hand on his arm.

Boniface kept his eyes closed. ‘But that is what the verse instructs. “Old claw of dragon/pierces silence, steals words.” Steals words! The Northmen have come to take the prophecy - even if they don’t know it.