They ceased, they grew quiet, they clustered together to where four black birds were standing. They listened as the four croaked and croaked in ever louder and more menacing tones. Then the whole flock rose as one into the purple sky, circled and closed formation, then banked slowly like a single organism and flew directly toward him, toward Shef, to where he was standing. The leader flew straight at him, he could see the remorseless unblinking golden eye, the black beak pointed at his face. It did not pull back, he could not move; something was holding his head firm and rigid; he felt the black beak driving deep into the soft jelly of his eye.

Shef woke with a shout and a start, leaping straight off the pallet, clutching his thin blanket round him as he stared out of the hole in his hut’s wall into a marshy dawn. His friend Hund called from the other pallet.

“What is it, Shef? What frightened you?”

For a moment he could not reply. Then it came out as a croak—he did not know what he was saying.

“The ravens! The ravens are on the wing!”

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

“Are you certain it is the Great Army itself which has landed?” Wulfgar’s voice was angry but unsure. It was news he did not want to believe. But he did not dare to challenge the messenger openly.

“There is no doubt,” said Edrich, the king’s thane, trusted servant of Edmund, king of the East Angles.

“And this army is led by the sons of Ragnar?”

Even more fearful news for Wulfgar, thought Shef as he listened to the debate from the back of the room. Every freeman in Emneth had crowded into their lord’s hall, summoned by runners. For though a freeman in England could lose everything—land-right, folk-right, even kin-right—for failing to answer a lawful summons to arms, for that very reason it was also their right to hear all issues debated publicly before they answered any call.

Whether Shef had any right to join them was another matter. But he had not been collared as a slave yet, and the freeman standing by the door to verify presence and absence still owed Shef for his mended ploughshare. He had grunted doubtfully, looked at the sword and shabby scabbard at Shef’s side, and decided not to press the point. Now Shef stood at the very back of the room among the poorest cottagers of Emneth, trying to hear without being seen.

“My men have spoken to many churls who have seen them,” said Edrich. “They say this army is led by four great warriors, the sons of Ragnar, all of equal status. Every day the warriors gather round a great banner with the sign of a black raven. It is the Raven Banner.”