Aldred saw a hot splash land full on Godwine’s face. The big man’s scream of terror and agony was cut off almost as soon as it began. Then something struck Aldred’s leg below the knee. He felt a pain worse than anything he had known in his whole life, and he passed out.

Aldred screamed when he came round, and continued to scream for several minutes. Eventually his cries became groans. Someone made him drink strong wine, but that only made him feel confused as well as terrified.

When at last the panic subsided and he was able to focus, he looked at his leg. There was a hole in his calf the size of a robin’s egg and the flesh was charred black. It hurt like hell. The metal that had done the damage had cooled and fallen to the floor, he guessed.

One of the priests’ women brought ointment for his wound but he refused it: there was no telling what pagan magic ingredients had gone into it, bats’ brains or crushed mistletoe or blackbird droppings. Spotting the trustworthy Edgar, he asked him to warm some wine and pour it into the hole to cleanse it, then find a clean rag.

Just before passing out, Aldred had seen a large splash of molten metal land on Godwine’s face. Sheriff Den now told him that Godwine had died, and Aldred could understand how. A small drop of the molten metal had instantly made a hole in Aldred’s leg, so the quantity that had hit Godwine’s face must have burned all the way through to his brain in no time.

“I’ve arrested Degbert and Cuthbert,” Den said. “I’ll keep them prisoners until the trial.”

“What about Wynstan?”

“I hesitate to arrest a bishop. I don’t want to turn the entire Church establishment against me. But it’s not really necessary: Wynstan isn’t likely to run away, and if he does, I’ll catch him.”

“I hope you’re right. I’ve known him for years and I have never seen such a fit seize him. He’s gone beyond ordinary wickedness. He seems possessed.”

“I think you’re right,” said Den. “This is a new level of evil. But don’t worry. We’ve caught him just in time.”

CHAPTER 22

October 998

here would be repercussions, Edgar knew. Wynstan would not accept what had happened. He would fight back, and he would be merciless with those involved in the exposure of his crime. Edgar felt fear like a small, hard growth in his belly. Just how much danger was he in?

He had played an important role, but always clandestinely. During the raid he had been out of sight, and only when the excitement was over had he appeared at the minster with a group of curious villagers. He would not have been noticed by Wynstan, he felt sure.

He was wrong.

Wynstan’s clerk, Ithamar, with the round face and white-blond hair, came to Dreng’s Ferry a week after the raid. After Mass he made an administrative announcement: in Degbert’s absence the eldest of the priests remaining at the minster, Father Deorwin, had been appointed acting dean. It hardly seemed worth the trip from Shiring when a letter would have done just as well.