deeper. Small trees and sparse grass gave way to rocks and prickly shrubs of various kinds. The wind began to screech and moan as it scoured the bare rocky hills, making a cold, lonely sound. The travelling company, so spirited the first few days, sank into silence and melancholy.
The next day was worse. The rain settled into a dull, spitting patter and continued through the day. I wrapped my sodden cloak around me and thought about the warm security of the scriptorium aglow in the ruddy blaze of a peat fire. Ah, mo croi!
Day's end found us in a cramped little gully between two steep hills. Having just made one arduous climb, and not yet ready to face another, we stopped to make camp, grateful at least for the respite from the wind. The ground was rocky and uneven and, except for a few diminutive, bedraggled-looking pines, devoid of vegetation. A stony cliff rose sheer from one side of the road; on the other, a narrow, deep-sided ravine contained a stream which was beginning to flow swiftly now due to the recent rain.
There was nothing to use for firewood, and what little fuel we had was needed to cook our evening meal, thus we spent a cold night huddled close to the rock face where the rain could not get at us so easily. Just before dawn, I was awakened by water dripping on my neck, leaking down from a rock directly above, so I got up and stumbled to the eparch's wagon and crawled beneath it.
This, I believe, is what saved me.
I had only closed my eyes again, when I heard a sound like the cracking of tree roots in the earth. I listened for a moment, and it came again-but from a direction I could not discern. Then I heard a rumbling sound like thunder, but closer and sharper. I opened my eyes. The sound instantly became a loud clattering crash and heavy objects began striking down, shaking the very ground.
In the dim half-light of an overcast dawn, I saw the sheer cliff-face in motion: rocks and stones, falling, sliding, collapsing, tumbling down upon us. I rolled further under the wagon, drew up my legs and cowered behind a stout wheel just as a huge stone struck the back of the wagon and shoved it sideways.
Men caught in the slide awoke screaming in terror and alarm as the rocks fell upon them. Many, however, were crushed in their sleep, never knowing what killed them.
The fall subsided almost as soon as it had begun. The last stones thudded to the ground and then all was still, and deathly quiet.
The silence gave way to the moans of the injured. I crept from the shelter of the wagon to see that the base of the cliff had been obliterated by the rockslide. I stood slowly and peered through the murk of the dust-thick air; all around me lay misshapen heaps of shattered stone.
I moved cautiously forward, trying to see if there were men I might help. I took two steps and heard far above me the pattering clatter of loose pebbles raining down. Fearing the rockslide had begun again, I glanced up and glimpsed instead a figure moving quickly back from the edge of the clifftop. In the same instant, I felt, rather than heard, a swift surge of movement and I jumped aside as a horse clattered by. There was someone in the saddle and it was Nikos. He blew past me like an evil wind, and disappeared into the dust and murk behind.
There was no time to wonder about this, for I heard a loud shout, which was answered at once by the roar of a multitude, or so it seemed. I turned to see swarms of men running down the steep hill before us.
The camp slowly stuttered to life. The eparch appeared. I ran to him. He stared at me in the dusky light. 'Where is Nikos?' he demanded angrily.
'I saw him riding away,' I answered, pointing out the direction behind me. 'We are being attacked!'
Out of nowhere, King Harald appeared, long-axe in hand, leaped onto the nearest wagon and began bellowing his battle-call. Within moments there were Sea Wolves everywhere-though far fewer than there had been before- running, shouting, calling their swordbrothers to rise and fight.
Weapons glinting dully, the warriors raced to join battle as the first foemen reached the camp. The ring of steel on steel and the shouts of fighting men filled the valley and echoed through the ravine. I had no weapons-and would not have known what to do if I had-but determined to stay with Eparch Nicephorus and protect him if I could. This proved no easy chore, since he insisted on rushing directly into the thick of the fight to lend his aid.
'Here! This way!' I shouted, pulling him back from the toiling bodies before us. Indicating a supply wagon nearby, I said, 'We can see best from there.' Hastening to the wagon, I paused to help the eparch into the box, and then climbed up myself. We stood together and watched the fearful clash.
The enemy were not large men-at least, not when set against the Sea Wolves-but they were many and dressed in dark cloaks and turbans, making them difficult to see in the pre-dawn light. Even so, in those first desperate moments of battle, it seemed as if the superior strength and battle-skill of the Danes would win out. For the Sea Wolves stood to their grim work, shoulder to shoulder, each man protecting his neighbour's unshielded side, forcing the oncoming enemy back and back, one step at a time.
'You see, eparch!' I cried. 'They are driving them away!'
The eparch, keen-eyed in the murk, said nothing, but gripped the sides of the wagon and stared at the dread battledance before us.
I looked in vain for Gunnar; I could not see him anywhere, and feared he must have been among those killed in the rockslide.
The Danes howled their full-throated battle cries, and I understood why they were called wolves. The sound was uncanny, striking fear into the heart, and weakening even the most stalwart will. Jarl Harald was fearless, standing in the front rank, his axe swinging with practised and deadly accuracy. Men fell before him-some shrieking in agony, some toppling silently, but all with startling rapidity. The axe-blade bit deep, its appetite insatiable.
As the first flush of battle passed, it became increasingly apparent that the Danes were even more sorely out-numbered than my first estimate. It may be that more and more enemy were arriving-reserves held back from the initial attack were perhaps being committed now-for it did appear that the numbers of dark-cloaked foe were swelling.
Slowly, painfully, the flow of battle turned against us. The eparch and I stood in the wagon and watched with growing horror as the Sea Wolves were inundated and engulfed by the ever-growing tide.
'Pray for them, priest!' Nicephorus cried, seizing me by the arm. 'Pray for us all!'
Alas, I could not. God had forsaken me, and I knew my prayers would fall like infertile seed on the hard ground of God's stony heart. For all the good my prayers would do, I would have a better chance of saving us all by taking up a spear, and I knew well what a sorry warrior I would be.
I was spared further meditation on my worthlessness, however, by the sudden appearance of a grim-faced warrior waving a bloody war hammer. 'What are you doing?' shouted the warrior. 'Get out of there!'
I was jerked off my feet and pulled bodily from the bed of the wagon, then hurled to the ground where I lay squirming in an effort to get away. The eparch likewise was hauled kicking from the wagon and dropped, scarcely less gently, beside me.
'Aeddan!' shouted Gunnar, 'you will be killed standing up like that.' Before I could say anything, he shoved the eparch and me beneath the wagonbed. 'Get under there,' he instructed sternly, 'and stay until I come back for you.'
He was gone again before I could speak a word to him. The eparch asked, 'What did he say?'
'He said we are to keep out of sight until he returns.'
'But I can see nothing from here,' complained the eparch. He endured the ignominy of our position for but a moment or two longer, and when there came a great shout from the battleline, Nicephorus bolted from beneath the wagon, shouting, 'I will not be seen hiding like a coward!'
I ran after him, seized him, and pulled him back to the wagon. We did not go under it again, but we did stand beside it to watch the battle. What we saw, however, filled our mouths with bile. Everywhere, the Danes were being driven down. The ranks of the enemy had swelled the more, and were in danger of overwhelming all resistance.
Even as we watched, there came another great shout and the dark foe surged as one, throwing back the defenders ten paces at once. Another shout, another surge, and the forerank buckled and gave way. The resistance was breached and our defences in imminent danger of being overwhelmed.
Harald was a canny battlechief; he would not allow himself to be surrounded so easily. Realizing the peril, he raised his bull roar and began calling the retreat. The Viking warriors fell back and soon were passing along the road. Gunnar ran to us. 'The battle is lost,' he said, breathing hard. 'We must flee while we can. This way. Go!'
So saying, he spun me around and began pushing me ahead of him. 'This way!' I shouted to the eparch. 'He
