too mild. This heathen horde was capable of anything. They had to leave. Now, before they were discovered.
‘Hide?’ Mildreth squeaked, her eyes growing round in her thin face. ‘Hide where? Shall we go to the church? St Cuthbert in his tomb will protect us.’
‘No.’ The image of the axe falling on her uncle’s head flashed before Annis. ‘They did not respect God’s representative. Why should they respect his holy place?’
Mildreth crossed herself and fell to her knees. ‘Then we are doomed.’
‘Never say that.’ Annis grabbed Mildreth’s arm and tried to right her, but the maid was having none of it. She kept to the ground and started to mutter her rosary. Annis passed a hand over her eyes. She had no desire to curl up into a ball. She wanted to live. There had to be a way to escape. ‘We need to make it to the mainland. Raise the alarm.’
Mildreth’s muttering increased in speed.
Annis risked another glance at the window. The beach now teemed with warriors, swords and axes drawn, advancing forwards. A loud thumping noise filled the room as the monsters began to beat their weapons against their shields.
There was a great crash as the gate to the courtyard fell open. It was only a matter of time.
Annis pressed her hands to her temples. She could not leave Mildreth. They had to move, to get out of here. She did not dare wait for any of her retainers. Either they had run off or were too busy fighting the barbarians to consider her.
They could not stay here in the guest house. The barbarians would be swarming all over it, searching for gold and silver. They would not hesitate to take captives. Annis’s stomach churned as she remembered the stories from her uncle’s dinner table two nights ago. She had thought then they were tales to frighten young children. Now she realised that they had not even begun to describe the terror.
Mildreth finished her rosary and stared straight ahead, white-faced with unfocused eyes. Annis knelt down and gathered Mildreth’s ice-cold hands in hers.
‘We will make our way to the pigsty. There will be nothing for the barbarians there. No one will look in. They will want treasure. Once they have gone, we will emerge safe and sound. Unharmed. Do you understand me?’
The maid gave a barely perceptible nod. Annis scooped the remaining items into a cloth. The mirror had belonged to her grandmother and the brooch to her aunt. Her own silver cross. The work of an instant. She struggled to stay calm and think of each step clearly. They would go down the stairs, and out the back door, along to the kitchens and then to the pigsty. There was a good view of the causeway; when the tide was right, they’d walk across. ‘We go. Now.’
Mildreth stood, took a trembling step and then collapsed in a heap. Annis clenched 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
