Shef reached forward and tapped the iron collar. “It was not the Vikings who put that on you. Anyway, I am an Englishman. Can you not tell from my speech? Now listen closely. I am going to let you go. Tell those out there in the night to stop the attacks, because we are not their enemies—they are still in York. If your fellows let us pass, no one will get hurt. Then tell your friends about this banner.”

Shef pointed across the smoky, steaming room to a clutch of the army’s drabs, who rose from the floor and stretched out the great banner at which they had been frantically stitching. There, on a background of red silk, taken from the carts of plunder, a double-headed smith’s hammer in white linen was picked out with silver thread.

“The other army, the one we have left, marches behind the black raven, the carrion bird. I say that the sign of the Christians is for torture and death. Our sign is the sign of a maker. Tell them that. And I will give you an earnest of what the hammer can do for you. We’re taking off your collar.”

The slave was shaking with fear. “No, the black monks, when they return …”

“They will kill you most horribly. Remember this and tell the others. We offered to free you, we pagans. But fear of the Christians is keeping you a slave. Now go.”

“One thing I ask. In fear. Do not kill me for speaking of it but—your men are emptying the meal-bins, taking our winter store. There’ll be empty bellies and dead bairns before spring comes if you do that.”

Shef sighed. This was going to be the hard bit. “Brand. Pay the thrall. Pay him something. Pay him in good silver, mind, not the archbishop’s dross.”

“Me pay him! He should pay me. What about the wergild for the men we have lost? And since when did the Army pay for its supplies?”

“There is no Army now. And he owes you no wergild. You trespassed on his land. Pay him. I’ll see you don’t lose by it.”

Brand muttered under his breath as he untied his purse and began to count out six silver Wessex pennies.

The slave could scarcely believe what was happening, staring at the shining coins as though he had never seen money like this before; perhaps he hadn’t.

“I will tell them,” he said, almost shouting the words. “About the banner too.”

“If you do that, and return here tonight, I will pay you six more—for you alone, not to share.”

Brand, Thorvin and the others looked doubtfully at Shef as the slave went out, with an escort to see him outside the sentry-fires.

“You’ll never see money nor slave again,” Brand said.