Finnigal suddenly felt foolish, and a little ashamed. If the Sea Wolves were coming, he would need every fighting man he could find. He looked at Bane, and saw the contained anger in the man. 'This has been a tense day,' he said, by way of an apology. 'Take your men into the forge and arm them.' Turning to his men he called out: 'Put away your swords and continue with the evacuation.'

Leaving the bowmen outside Bane led the others through to the rear of the forge and the armoury beyond. The bald, stooped figure of Nanncumal stepped in front of the doorway.

'What are you doing here, Bane?' he asked. 'Bringing more shame upon the family?'

'Naturally,' said Bane. 'However, we have little time for debate, Grandfather. The enemy is coming and I need armour and weapons.'

'You are letting him do this?' Nanncumal asked Finnigal.

'I have instructed him to do it,' said Finnigal. 'Bane and his men are now under my orders.'

'This is madness,' persisted Nanncumal. 'These men are robbers and killers.'

'Stand aside, Grandfather,' said Bane softly.

'Do it!' roared Finnigal. Nanncumal took a step to the left and Bane went by him into the armoury, his men trooping after him. Finnigal approached the elderly blacksmith. 'They are pledged to protect the refugees, and we badly need them, sir,' he said.

'But there are no Sea Wolves close by,' said Nanncumal. 'The Lady Meria insists that Vorna is mistaken.'

'I hope she is right,' said Finnigal, 'but I do not believe that she is.'

From inside the armoury came the sounds of whooping and laughter.

'Do you know,' asked Nanncumal, 'how much that armour is worth? Each mailshirt costs ten ounces of gold, and you are giving them away. You will have to answer for it.'

'I doubt that,' said Finnigal. 'I am charged with protecting the Lady Meria. If she stays, I stay. So it is likely that by dusk today I shall be dead.'

The old man looked at him, and his expression changed. 'You are a good man, Finnigal,' he said. More laughter came from inside. 'I'd better see what they are taking.'

Finnigal nodded and returned to the main street.

The evacuation was continuing at an even greater pace now and Finnigal smiled. Many of the people had dismissed the fears of a Vars force approaching, but they had no wish to remain in a settlement where a hundred outlaws had gathered.

Prasalis approached him. 'This may not be wise, sir,' he said. 'I know some of those men. The thin bowman by the wall there is Wik. He's a cold killer. He'd slit his grandfather's throat for a bent copper coin. Then there's the Norvii, Valian. The king has warrants out on him for rape and murder. There are at least a dozen others with no belly for a smash-skulls-or-die skirmish.'