Wynstan felt queasy. He could see their faces and hear their desultory talk. He could even make out a few words: their language was similar to English. He was nauseated by the thought that he was here to cut these men with his sharp blade, to shed their blood and chop off their limbs and pierce their living, beating hearts, to make them fall helpless to the earth screaming in agony. People saw him as a cruel man—which he was—but what was about to happen was a different kind of brutality.

He looked up and down the river. On the far bank the ground rose to a low hill. If there were more Vikings in the area, they were probably farther upstream, having passed the falls on foot and gone on in search of a village or a monastery to raid.

Garulf wriggled backward on his belly, and the others followed suit. When they were well behind the ridge they stood up. Without speaking, Garulf beckoned them to follow him. They all remained silent.

Wynstan expected that they would withdraw for a further discussion, but that did not happen. Garulf moved a few yards farther, remaining behind the ridge, then turned down a ravine that led to the beach. The thanes followed, with the rest of the men close behind.

They were now in full view of the Vikings. It had happened with a suddenness that took Wynstan by surprise. As the men of Shiring moved downhill over the scrubby ground they remained quiet, gaining a few extra seconds of surprise. But soon one of the Vikings happened to glance up, saw them, and let out a cry of warning. With that the army broke its silence. Whooping and yelling, they ran pell-mell down the ravine, brandishing their weapons.

Wynstan took his sword in one hand and his spear in the other and joined the pack.

The Vikings realized immediately that they could not win. They abandoned their fires and their tents and dashed to the boats. They splashed through the shallows, severed the ropes with knives, and began to scramble aboard; but as they did so the English reached the beach, raced across it in a few moments, and caught up.

The two sides met at the edge of the river. A tidal wave of bloodlust swamped all lesser emotions, and Wynstan waded into the water, possessed by nothing but the overwhelming hunger for slaughter. He plunged his spear into the chest of a man who turned to face him, then swiped with his sword, left-handed, at the neck of another who tried to flee. Both men fell into the water. Wynstan did not wait to see whether they were dead.

The English had the advantage of always being in slightly shallower water, therefore freer to move. The thanes in the lead thrust with spears and swords and quickly killed dozens of Vikings. Wynstan saw that the enemy were mostly older men and poorly armed—some appeared to have no weapons, perhaps having left them on the beach when fleeing. He guessed that the best fighters in this group had been chosen for the raiding party.