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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

But Macson protested, ‘I’m no slave. My father bought his freedom, and mine.’

Bjarni seemed irritated. He said to Rhodri, ‘Explain that he can either live as a slave, or die free.’

Macson bowed his head, his submission needing no more words.

Bjarni approached Belisarius. ‘Now,’ he said, suspicious. ‘What of you?’

The other man, Askold, looked interested. ‘Perhaps he’s a Roman.’

‘I am from Constantinople,’ Belisarius said. ‘I am an east Roman.’

‘Then he might be worth a ransom.’

Bjami thought this over. ‘Move away from the worthless old monk, east Roman, and you will be spared.’

Belisarius stood his ground.

Boniface closed his eyes once more. ‘You are a visitor, Belisarius. A traveller. A dilettante. And you’re an eastern orthodox. You have no need to die here.’

‘The Northmen’s ransom would break my poor family. Better for me to die now, leaving them rich. And I think I’ve seen enough of this world. Besides, do you want to die alone, monk? The truth now.’

Boniface hesitated. ‘No.’

‘Then hold on to to me.’ Belisarius took the monk’s frail hand in his, and gripped it firmly.

Bjarni shrugged and took a step back. ‘Your choice.’ Askold spat on his hands and lifted his axe, taking his time, while his companions laughed.

Belisarius murmured to Boniface, ‘By the way. The Menologium has many possible interpretations, it seems to me. I am not sure you have found the correct path through its tangle, Domnus.’

‘Perhaps. But we’ll never know, will we? Even if we had survived this day, we would not. That is the glory of our faith. But we, less than dust, will nevertheless have played our part ...’

Belisarius squeezed his hand. ‘Hush now and make ready.’

Boniface dropped his head.

Askold boasted to his grinning companions that he could behead the two of them with a single stroke. To Belisarius his uncivilised phrases were much uglier than the calls of the sea birds, and, in the end, of much less interest.

Askold swung his blade.

XXI

XXI

The sun wheeled across the sky. Still Gudrid stood alone, on the headland that led to the causeway to the mainland.

She had stood here as the raid had unfolded, as people fled and died, as fires blossomed like flowers, and as the patient sea had fallen back, exposing the fine sandy spine of the causeway. All this time she had been alone. The two men, Leif and Bjorn, assigned to accompany her by her father, had quickly run off, convinced that the others were stealing their share of the loot.

In the event people did escape the island, but by boat, in tiny fishing craft laden with families. Gudrid couldn’t have stopped them if she tried. They would take news of the attack, and terror would seep like poison into the mainland. But nobody tried to cross the causeway she guarded.

Not until the end of the day.