Movebuntur omnia fundamenta terrae: the earth and sea will tremble, and with them the mountains and hills. And the voice of the archangel will sound from the heavens and will be heard in the lowest reaches.

And for seven days there will be great signs in the heavens. And I shall tell you what they will be. Hark!

On the first day, a cloud will come from the north, and a bloody rain will fall from it all over the Earth.

While on the second day, the Earth will move out of her place; the gates of Heaven will open from the East and the smoke of a huge fire will obscure the whole sky. And on that day, there will be great fear and terror in the world.

Then on the third day, the abysses of the Earth’s four corners will yawn and all the world will be filled with the foul stench of brimstone. And thus it shall be until the tenth hour.

On the fourth day, the sun’s disc will be obscured and there will be a great darkness. The heavens will be tenebrous without sun or moon; the stars will stop shining. Thus shall it be until morning.

On the sixth day, the morning will be foggy…

Chapter One

In which Reynevan, trying to pick up the trail of his beloved, encounters much adversity. To be precise, he is accursed. At home and abroad, standing, sitting and doing his work. And Europe, meanwhile, is changing. Developing new forms of warfare.

The morning was foggy, and quite mild for February. There had been a hint of a thaw in the air all night; the snow began melting at dawn, and the prints of iron-shod hooves and the ruts made by wagon wheels filled at once with black water. Axles and swingletrees creaked, horses snorted and wagoners cursed drowsily. The column of almost three hundred wagons made slow progress. The pungent, choking smell of salt herrings hung over the column. Sir John Fastolf rocked sleepily in the saddle.

A thaw had suddenly set in after a few days of frost, and the wet snow that had been falling all night quickly melted. Water dripped from the snow lying heavily on spruce trees.

“Haaave at theeem! Kill them!”

“Haaaa!”

The noise of the sudden battle frightened some rooks. The birds flew up from leafless branches, the leaden February sky became flecked with a shifting black mosaic and the chilly, damp air was filled with cawing. The clang and thud of iron. And yells.

The fighting was short-lived but fierce. Hooves ploughed up the slush, mixing it with mud. Horses whinnied and squealed shrilly. Men uttered cries, some warlike and others of pain. It began suddenly and was soon over.

“Huzza! Cut them oooff! Cut them ooooff!”

Then again, more quietly, further off, the echo bounced around the forest.

“Huzza! Huzzaaa!”

The rooks cawed, circling above the trees. The thudding of hooves receded. The shouts died away.