Taken by the Viking. Michelle Styles

her hands in frustration.

      ‘Leave me, mistress.’ Tears streamed down Mildreth’s face.

      ‘Never. We will get through this, you and I.’

      ‘May God, Mother Mary and all the saints bless you.’ Mildreth’s hand clenched Annis’s.

      A crash reverberated throughout the upstairs room. An axe hitting the door. Then the sound of shouting and running of feet as someone sought to prevent entry. Mildreth let out a loud whimper. Annis instinctively felt for her eating dagger on her belt. Small protection in the face of swords, but it was all she had to defend herself.

      Silently Annis whispered a prayer to God.

      Beads of sweat began to trickle down her face and neck.

      ‘Block the door!’ Annis tugged at the bed as Mildreth crouched unmoving. ‘Help me now, Mildreth, if you value your life.’

      Somewhere in the bowels of the building, a stair creaked.

      He had planned today differently. They had come in peace, seeking trade, not war.

      Haakon surveyed the battle or, rather, rout that was raging around him. Already flames licked many of the buildings. He knew Lindisfarne’s reputation as a centre for learning, but it could not be helped. The Abbot should have had more control over his monks. He had lost a good warrior and a good friend for no reason when the crazed monk had attacked. Had the Abbot expected him not to react in the face of such unprovoked aggression?

      ‘Bjorn was correct, Haakon,’ Thrand called from a doorway. He appeared disheveled, but unhurt, and dragged a chest spilling over with gold chalices and bejewelled crucifixes. ‘The church groans under the weight of gold and jewels. You have never seen the like. You were wise to say that we should come here to get the coin that the Scotsman owed us.’

      ‘Burn the buildings. This is like any other raid, Thrand,’ Haakon replied. ‘Gather what you can. We shall feast well once we return to our lands.’

      He refused to feel anything for these men. There would be no place in Valhalla for them or wherever their God sent warriors. These were no warriors. Children knew how to handle swords better. This priory was undefended.

      ‘Watch your back!’

      Several burly Priory guards advanced towards him, but Thrand reached them first, and they clashed swords. These knew what they were on about, Haakon thought as the swords clashed and clashed again. He sent one spinning to the ground and Thrand dispatched the rest.

      ‘You could almost make a berserker in ferocity, Thrand.’

      The younger man lifted his sword. ‘Killing brings me no pleasure, Haakon. You know that. I differ from Bjorn in that respect.’

      ‘Have you seen Bjorn?’

      ‘Not since the fighting began. How stupid of those men to attack us with a puny dagger and not expect us to defend our honour.’

      ‘I would have preferred that Bjorn waited for my orders.’

      ‘You were the one who had him stand next to you.’ Thrand gave a shrug. ‘Bjorn is a dangerous man—to friend and foe alike when the blood madness hits.’

      ‘He would never attack one of the felag. He has given his blood-oath.’

      ‘So you say. There were rumours two summers ago about Bjorn breaking an oath, but I never believed them.’ Thrand gave the chest another shove. ‘You are in charge of this expedition and I have no wish to challenge for the leadership. Bjorn is your responsibility.’

      Haakon rubbed the back of his neck, silently acknowledging the truth of Thrand’s words. Bjorn was a danger to everyone, and to himself. Now, all he had to do was to find Bjorn and bring him back from the madness that had engulfed him. They had sworn loyalty to each other, but he knew what Bjorn could do when he was engulfed in his blood-lust.

      ‘Bjorn,’ he called. ‘Bjorn, the day is ours. It is time to divide the spoils.’

      Annis crouched behind the makeshift pile of a bed, mattress, chests and the table. Her plaits had come loose as she frantically worked, and her hair now tumbled freely down her back.

      Waiting, hoping. She scarcely dared breathed.

      Thus far, there had been no other sound but the one creak of the stair. A false alarm or something more sinister?

      Had the attacker left the building?

      Wisps of smoke swirled in the air, making it difficult to breathe properly and stinging Annis’s eyes. Her muscles complained from moving the furniture in front of the door. Mildreth had not helped with the building of the heap, but sat stony faced, rocking back and forth as she guarded Annis’s meagre store of possessions.

      Annis offered another prayer up to God, but she feared He was not listening. God had turned His face from them and left them to their fate as warning to the others. That is what her uncle would say if he had lived.

      How could the death of her uncle and the other brothers please God? Her uncle had been revered by all. His piety was well known, and his wisdom respected. Now he was dead and his blood spilt on the golden sand.

      She stared at the knife in her hands.

      ‘I will protect you,’ she whispered to Mildreth, who gave no sign of having heard her. ‘I promise.’

      The door to room jangled, rocked.

      She froze. Her breath stuck in her throat. Would the attacker go away, seeking easier prey?

      Then it crashed open with a sickening thump as if the bed and other things were but dry sticks.

      A great beast of a man strode in. His axe dripped blood. His skins were splattered with many dark stains. Annis’s blood turned cold. This was her uncle’s killer.

      Behind his helmet, his eyes glinted yellow. His teeth were drawn back in a snarl.

      Help me! Annis sank farther back into the shadows.

      The beast-man regarded the room, searching. The shutter flapped open and closed. His eyes narrowed, his attention caught.

      Please let him think we escaped.

      The beast-man gave a grunt and turned to go. Annis’s heart leapt. Against all reason, they would be saved.

      Go. Leave. Depart, she willed.

      A whimper escaped Mildreth’s lips. The beast started. Breathing heavily, he turned. This time he did not miss where Mildreth crouched.

      An evil smile crossed his features and he lovingly stroked his axe.

      ‘Bjorn, here I find you.’ Haakon advanced into the narrow upstairs room. There had been quite a fight as the furniture lay scattered. ‘There is nothing here. Whoever was here has departed—long ago.’

      He froze. The berserker started to slowly advance towards a cowering woman. In the other corner, another woman with luminous eyes crouched amongst the shadows. She put her fingers to her lips as her eyes pleaded with him. Haakon’s jaw tightened. There was no honour in killing defenceless women.

      ‘We have everything we came for and more. Time to depart, Bjorn. Before the tide changes.’ Haakon kept his voice steady. He had to bring Bjorn back from this madness.

      No reaction from Bjorn. Just the slow, steady advance. Haakon willed the woman to move and save herself while he held Bjorn’s attention. But she cowered on the ground like a scared rabbit.

      ‘The gold has been secured, Bjorn Bjornson. Time to go.’

      Bjorn swung his large head around and regarded Haakon as if he had never seen him before. His gaze appeared to become fastened on Haakon’s sword. An unearthly light appeared in Bjorn’s eyes.

      Blood and spittle surrounded Bjorn’s mouth as he advanced towards Haakon, swinging his axe.

      Haakon