‘What do we do?’ Father Oda tried a different question.

‘We go back,’ I said.

‘Back?’

‘Back the way we came.’ I turned to stare east, at the woods where we had passed the black scar of the charcoal makers. ‘We go back to the trees,’ I said, ‘and look for somewhere to hide.’

‘But—’ Oda began.

And was interrupted by Benedetta. ‘Saraceni,’ she hissed. Just that one word, but a word suffused with fear.

And the one word made me turn to see what had alarmed her.

Horsemen.

‘Merewalh’s men!’ Father Oda said. ‘Praise God!’

There were maybe twenty horsemen on the pilgrim track, all in mail, all with helmets, and half of them carrying long spears. They were at the place where the road disappeared into the western trees and they had paused there, gazing ahead.

‘They are not the enemy?’ Benedetta asked.

‘They’re the enemy,’ Finan said in a low voice. Two more men had come from the wood, and both wore the red cloak of Æthelhelm’s troops. We could see them through a gap in the hedge, but it seemed that for the moment they had not seen us.

‘Back!’ I snarled. ‘Back! All of you! Back to the trees.’ The children just stared at me, the freed slaves looked confused, and Father Oda opened his mouth as if to speak, but I snarled again, ‘Run! Go! Now!’ They still hesitated until I stepped threateningly towards them. ‘Go!’ They ran, too frightened to stay. ‘All of you, go!’ I was talking to my men who, with Benedetta, had stayed with me. ‘Go with me!’

‘Too late,’ Finan said.

Waormund, I assumed he was one of the horsemen on the road below us, had done what I would have done in his place. He had sent scouts up through the trees and they now appeared where the barley field ended. There were two of them, both mounted on grey horses, and both were staring along the hedgerow to where I stood on their skyline. One of them lifted a horn and blew it. The mournful sound faded, then came again. More men appeared on the road. There were forty now, at least forty.

‘Go,’ I said to my men, ‘you too, Finan.’

‘But—’

‘Go!’ I howled the word at him. He hesitated. I untied the heavy money pouch from my belt and forced it into his hands, then pushed Benedetta towards him. ‘Keep her alive, keep her safe! Keep my men alive! Now go!’

‘But, lord—’

‘They want me, not you, now go!’ He still hesitated. ‘Go!’ I howled the word like a soul in pain.

Finan went. I know he would rather have stayed, but my rage and the demand that he protect Benedetta persuaded him. Or perhaps he knew that it was pointless to die while there was a chance of life. Someone had to take the news to Bebbanburg.

Everything ends. Summer ends. Happiness ends. Days of joy are followed by days of sorrow. Even the gods will meet their end in the last battle of Ragnarok when all the evil of the world brings chaos and the sun will turn dark, the black waters will drown the homes of men, and the great beamed hall of Valhalla will burn to ashes. Everything ends.