monk saw they were not huscarls. Tostig had bought more aid with his gold.
Hereward was watching the patterns the men made as they darted among the houses. ‘They scour the streets in an ordered way,’ he said. ‘They will have covered the gates and the walls. There is little chance of escape.’
‘What can we do?’
‘Burn Eoferwic down. In the confusion, we may be able to find a way out.’
‘We cannot kill good men and women,’ Alric said, horrified. ‘Our lives are not that important.’
Hereward bunched his fists in frustration and for a moment looked as if he might knock Alric to the ground. ‘Very well,’ he replied, calming. ‘You have probably ensured our own deaths, but so be it.’ Glancing back at the group of men, he murmured almost to himself, ‘There are now too many to fight, and they are too well organized.’
‘I have a plan,’ Alric said.
A few minutes later, the two men were creeping down a street where several families kept their pigs in a single large sty. Alric went in and herded the animals out while Hereward waited to slap their flanks as they passed. The squealing pigs bolted into the street in a frenzy, and within moments their owners ran out of the surrounding houses, bellowing their anger. Nearly twenty men, women and children chased after the pigs to round them up, calling incessantly, while more people emerged from their houses to see what was going on.
But that was only the start, Alric thought.
While Tostig’s men hurried towards the outcry, Hereward and Alric slipped among the houses towards the church. As they hoped, the enclosure was deserted.
‘And so we risk everything,’ Hereward muttered. ‘I must have lost my wits to take battle advice from a monk.’
Alric ran into the church, his footsteps echoing along the nave until he reached the door to the tower. ‘Help me,’ he called back to the warrior. Together, they leapt on the bell-rope and pulled with all their strength. High overhead, the bell tolled.
Within moments, the sound of running feet drew near. Hereward slipped behind the door, drawing his sword. A young deacon burst into the tower.
‘Quickly. You must help,’ the monk cried. ‘Eoferwic is under attack by raiders from the sea, just as in the times your father’s father spoke of. Raise the alarm. Let all know of the peril we face.’
Ancient fears burned in the man’s face. Without a word, he grabbed the bell-rope and began to pull. Racing back down the nave with Hereward beside him, Alric knew their time was short. The archbishop would send men to investigate, perhaps even some huscarls if he suspected Hereward was behind the alarm.
Outside, though, he saw that their plan was already taking effect. Men, women and children streamed from every house, some drunken, others bleary-eyed from sleep. The meaning of the alarm bells was encoded in the deepest parts of them. They swarmed into every street, every public place, yelling questions, searching for arms, demanding to know the direction of the attack. The blazing beacons only added to their fears.
Confusion filled every public space of Eoferwic. In the din and the madness, Hereward and Alric pulled up their hoods and merged into the swirl of bodies.
CHAPTER TWENTY — FIVE
The harsh wind blew along the wharfside. Ice edged the black ribbon of river reaching out into the rolling white plain as the two hooded men darted out of the shadows. Their feet only slowed when they could hear the lap of the water against the banks. Beyond the natural noises of the river, all was silent. The daily bustle of the port had stilled for the Twelve Days. The workshops of the shipwrights stood dark and quiet, the smell of new wood still hanging in the cold air. The smaller boats lay like beached fishes on the snowy banks. The larger vessels strained against their creaking ropes along the quay and jetty.
Hereward picked a path to a large mound of ballast rocks and found a hiding place behind it. Once they had settled out of the wind, the two men rubbed their hands, trying to bring some life back to their numb fingers.
‘My plan worked well, then,’ Alric said.
‘No one likes a braggart, monk,’ the warrior said. ‘And there is still time for both our heads to end up on sticks.’
‘The rule of law-’
‘Forget the rule of law. That is for ceorls. Men like Tostig, and Harold Godwinson, make their own rules.’
‘Still, we should offer up prayers of thanks for our survival. Without God’s mercy, we would never have made it this far.’ Alric closed his eyes, recalling his darkest hours after Harald Redteeth had delivered him up to the archbishop. He had hoped and prayed for a chance to be redeemed, but he had never truly believed it would come. Silently, he cursed his own lack of faith, and made another promise to God.
The clanging bells died away, and the hubbub of voices began to ebb.
‘Who is she?’ the monk asked when he realized why Hereward kept peering round the ballast heap.
At first he thought the warrior was not going to answer, but then he replied with studied detachment, ‘Her name is Acha. Taken from the Cymri and brought here to fetch water and keep the fires burning. She said she met you at the minster.’
Alric nodded. ‘And you are in love?’
Hereward clipped the monk round the ear and went to sit on his own for a while.
Time passed. The snow stopped falling, and the black clouds began to drift away. In their absence, icy stars glittered in a majestic sweep across the heavens, and a full moon cast shimmers across the water.
In the town, the bonfires still burned and the questioning call and response of Tostig’s search parties continued to echo. When footsteps trudged nearby, Hereward drew his sword and crept on to the heap of rocks. Alric crawled beside him. They saw the newcomer was only a sailor making his way to one of the larger ships. Another joined him, and then a stream of them meandered up. The seamen stumbled, sleepy-eyed and still half drunk from the tavern, chattering in tired voices. But as they prepared their vessel for sailing, they began to sing. Torches sparked into life to light their work, and to warm their hands.
‘An early start to cross the whale road to their homeland,’ Alric muttered.
‘We have nothing to offer them to buy passage.’
‘It is our only way out of Eoferwic.’
‘What do you suggest? That I kill them all and steal their ship, and the two of us man it on the whale’s way, with your prayers for help? A great plan.’ Hereward slithered down the slope and sat brooding.
Alric continued to watch the sailors, turning over ideas but finding no solution. After a while, he noticed a dark figure, cloaked and hooded, gliding along the quayside. From the elegant steps, he could see it was a woman.
‘Hereward,’ he whispered.
The warrior scrambled back up the slope, his face lighting when he saw her. Climbing over the ballast heap, he crunched through the snow towards her. The woman stopped, hesitated for one moment, and then pulled back her hood.
Hereward came to a sharp halt, arms outstretched.
It was Judith.
The warrior backed away a step, as if Tostig’s wife was the first sign of an attack. But then she smiled, a little sadly, Alric thought, and beckoned the warrior to step closer.
‘She does not come, Hereward,’ the woman said, her face lit by the sailors’ torches.
The warrior’s expression revealed nothing. ‘Why?’
After a pause, Judith forced a smile. ‘It is not the time for her. Perhaps in future days…’
Hereward’s laughter couldn’t hide his disappointment. ‘Why are you here?’ He looked past her along the dark quayside.
‘My husband does not know I have come,’ she said, answering his unspoken question. ‘I am here alone.’ Alric saw a hint of affection in her gleaming eyes that surprised him. She pulled her cloak tighter. She was shivering. ‘What happens between man and wife is kept in their hearts only, but sometimes a woman can see things a man
