Hereward saw the remorse in the monk’s face. ‘And you murdered her because she gave you ungodly thoughts.’
‘No!’ Alric brushed the tears from his eyes. ‘I… I followed the wishes of my father and mother. I had given myself to God. I was content with my path, dedicated. I wanted nothing else. But then the daughter and I talked about my mission, and God’s plan, and she paid more heed to my teaching than her brother. And we laughed, and we walked together, and from nowhere feelings rose. Love, a pure love, of the kind I had never felt before for any human, only for my…’ The word choked in his throat, and he almost spat it out. ‘God.’
‘What was her name?’
‘Sunnild.’ The monk swallowed. ‘The force of that passion, it almost drove my wits from me. Something that powerful could only come from God.’ He looked to the warrior for approval, and then hung his head again when he saw none. ‘I fought against my feelings. Time and again I could have taken advantage of her. She made her own feelings for me clear. But I resisted, even though my heart was breaking. And then, one evening before the snows came, we walked in the woods and I became consumed by madness. I could hold my feelings in check no longer. And I kissed her.’
‘That is all?’
‘Yes, I swear. And, Hereward, though God strike me down, I felt as though I had been transported to heaven.’
‘From one kiss?’ the warrior asked with wry disbelief.
‘But then her brother found us in the midst of our embrace.’ Alric’s face darkened. ‘He flew into a rage, accusing me of deceiving him and his father. He acted as though all I had done in that place had only been a ploy to steal Sunnild’s honour. And he drew the knife he used for carving toys for the children, and attacked me to defend that honour.’
Hereward listened to the squeals of delight from the women and the drunken bellows echoing from the church. Time was short. Soon the ritual would be over and the people would rush back into Eoferwic to continue their celebrations.
‘We fought,’ the monk continued in a flat tone. The warrior guessed Alric had played the moment over so many times that all life and emotion had been sucked from it. ‘There was no time to reason. I was struggling for my life. Sunnild was in tears, pleading with her brother to spare me. She claimed that she was to blame. Even then, when other women would have protected themselves, her love for me was clear. As the brother and I fell around the wood, she came between us to try to separate us. Somehow I had the knife in my hands. And I struck out, in panic, and the blade plunged into her heart.’
Alric held out his hands as if he could still see the blood upon them.
‘She died instantly. In shock, I ran, with her brother’s cries of vengeance ringing in my ears.’
‘And her kin set those Viking pirates upon your trail. A blood-feud.’
‘Believe me or not, Hereward, but in that moment I wanted to die too, so I could be with Sunnild, and for a while I considered taking my own life, to my shame.’ The monk began to cry silently. After some moments, he steadied himself and added, ‘But I would never reach heaven or Sunnild’s side if I wasted what God had given me. I have to make amends in this world if I am ever to scrub the stain from my soul.’
‘And you thought I was your path to salvation.’ The warrior laughed bitterly.
‘I must save a soul to balance the one I released from this world too soon.’
‘You are a fool,’ Hereward said, adding after a moment’s thought, ‘as are we all.’ The warrior almost felt pity for the young monk, but a vision of the woman stabbed to death in the wood jarred too sharply with his own memory of Tidhild, and his mother. Three women dead, all stained in blood. And then he recalled with a flash of unease what the wise woman had told him in her smoky hut about hidden patterns.
The jubilant cries grew louder. The crowd was ebbing from the church.
His raw emotions receding, the monk started. ‘Hereward, I am a fool. Forgive me. You are in great danger. I thought I would never have the chance to warn you and I had driven it from my mind-’
The warrior knelt and thrust his fist into the neck of the monk’s habit, hauling him up. ‘Then speak and stop your babbling. What danger?’
‘I am rotting here because Harald Redteeth revealed my crime to the archbishop-’
‘He lives?’
‘The Viking was saved from your rope by four men who had been in pursuit of you. And so our destinies continue to be bound together.’
Hereward shook the monk roughly to quiet him, and then thought for a moment. ‘And those four are here in Eoferwic?’
Alric nodded. ‘Redteeth told me that for some reason, what I do not know, they would not confront you in public, only in stealth.’
‘They fear drawing attention to me, or to themselves,’ the warrior replied after a moment’s reflection. ‘You saw their faces?’
Alric described the four men. ‘They are from the south. You will know them easily when they speak,’ he added.
Hereward returned to the door and glanced back at the pitiful figure. ‘Men are like wolves in the woods. Worse, for they have the capacity to deceive and betray as well as kill for base motives. But the life of a woman is a prized thing, and you have taken one. Whether accident or not, you must pay a price for that crime.’
The monk nodded, his face etched with grief. ‘I know.’
And with that the warrior nodded in parting and slipped outside to join all the other fools.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Merging with the throng, Hereward hid in the shadows of his hood until he was deep in the filthy streets of Eoferwic. He felt the blood already starting to beat in his head. His four pursuers were linked not only to the plot that had thrown his life off course, but also to Tidhild’s murder. They hunted him. But now he would hunt them.
When he reached the earl’s hall, he kept out of sight of the other huscarls until he could get Acha on her own. ‘You may be in danger,’ he warned her. ‘Kraki saw us together, and now my enemies are close at hand they may attack you to reach me. I would not have another dead woman lying on my mind.’
‘And do you expect me to hide like some frightened rabbit?’ Acha bristled. ‘I will cut off any hand laid upon me.’
The warrior felt a burst of affection for her. He would never forget Tidhild, but here was someone who could live in his heart. ‘Then take care,’ he said, ‘for the peace of this Christmastime may soon be left broken upon the floor.’
As soon as he was certain no one was watching him, Hereward reclaimed his axe, his shield and his knife from his hut. Comforted by his weapons, he faded into the smoky streets, losing himself among the performers, the tumblers, the pie-sellers and the ale-addled crowds. When he was sure he was not being followed, he made his way to the house where Wulfhere and his family were in hiding.
The one-eyed, one-handed man emerged from behind a willow screen at the back. He greeted Hereward with respect, recalling how warmly the monk had spoken of the warrior. Hereward listened to the words without comment, and then asked the man for aid. For the outspoken protests that placed his life at risk, Wulfhere had found his own degree of respect among the over-taxed, hard-working people of Eoferwic, the warrior knew. He passed on Alric’s descriptions of the four men who had pursued him and asked the one-handed man to spread word among everyone he knew. Whoever returns with knowledge of the men will be rewarded, he said, tapping one of his gold rings. When Wulfhere agreed, Hereward accepted the invitation to wait by the hearth, gnawing on a portion of the man’s meagre supply of bread.
The day passed. Night fell, with the wind coming in cold and hard across the river flood-plain. Heavy clouds swept in from the north-east and soon the snow was falling fast once again. Large flakes covered the brown slush and a peaceful stillness descended on Eoferwic. Hereward stirred from his brooding at the sound of muttering outside the door. When Wulfhere returned to the glow of the fire, the warrior saw that the man’s features were
