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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

‘Boniface wants to die, and God will soon grant that wish. As for the prophecy -’ He extracted a slim scroll from his sleeve and passed it to her. It was the Menologium; she had not seen how he took it from Macson as he struggled with Boniface. ‘I’m not sure I want these “Aryans” to own the future of the world.’

‘What about you?’

‘We will look after ourselves,’ he said grimly. ‘Go. Hide. Return to your father.’

‘But—’

‘Go!’ He opened the door and shoved her out.

XX

XX

The raiders came to the cell as rapidly as Belisarius had feared. Belisarius, Boniface and Macson were hauled out. They stood blinking in the bright fresh air. Belisarius had to support Boniface, who, murmuring his prayers, seemed too weak to stand.

The three of them were surrounded. The Northmen were covered in blood, their clothes, their axes, their faces, even their hair, as if they had waded through an ocean of it. They were strong, murderous, solid as trees. At this moment Belisarius envied them their moral emptiness, their lack of doubt.

It was late in the morning now, and the sun was warm on Belisarius’s face. It had become a beautiful day, he noted, now the morning mist had burned off. Though fire licked only a few paces away, he could hear the calls of sea birds, undisturbed by all the human foolishness around them.

One raider crawled through the vacated cell. When he emerged and spoke, his tongue was close enough to the German for Belisarius to guess his meaning. ‘It’s empty, Bjarni. Just these three.’

The leader, Bjarni, glanced over them. He met Belisarius’s eyes, and the Greek thought he detected regret there, weariness. But he shrugged. ‘Very well. Askold, kill them.’

‘Wait.’ Macson stepped forward. ‘I have something you want.’

He snagged the raiders’ interest. The weapons were held still.

‘Ah,’ Boniface whispered to Belisarius. ‘The moment of destiny.’

Bjarni studied Macson. ‘What? Don’t waste my time, boy.’

‘A prophecy,’ Macson insisted. ‘An augury, an omen. Do you understand? It tells the future. It is worth something to you.’

‘Bird guts tell me the future.’

‘Not like this. It is written down.’ Macson smiled, a ghastly grimace. ‘You will need me to read it to you.’

‘Show me.’

Macson hunted through his tunic. When he realised he didn’t have the scroll he turned on Belisarius. ‘You! How did you take it?’ He lunged at Belisarius, but was easily restrained by the raiders.

Another voice broke in. ‘I know him.’ A smaller man emerged from the ranks of the raiders, dark, weasel-like. When he spoke again it was in Macson’s tongue. ‘Macson, isn’t it?’

Macson gaped. ‘Rhodri?’

Bjarni turned to this Rhodri. ‘You know him, slave?’

Rhodri smirked. ‘He’s another slave. I knew him in Brycgstow.’

‘If he’s known service, he might have value. Spare him.’ Bjarni turned away.