Taken by the Viking. Michelle Styles
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the summer. They would need each one to get the boats safely back home. It would be too risky a venture. They would settle this dispute diplomatically.
‘If you have come in peace, then perhaps we should discuss this.’ The Abbot bowed his silver head. ‘No doubt once I have weighed the merits of the case, I can make a better assessment. May I?’
‘There are few merits to weigh.’
‘But I fear you have been sent here on a fool’s errand. I do not know offhand if we store any money for Oeric the Scot.’
‘That is not my problem. The Scot showed me the tablet in your hand, with your seal, saying you did.’
A monk with a pockmarked face, standing at the Abbot’s side, tugged on his robe and then whispered in his ear. Haakon watched a frown appear on the Abbot’s face.
‘And you have this tablet?’ The Abbot held out his hand, and then let it drop to his side. ‘I thought not. Still, I will investigate it. It will take some time. You and your men are welcome to take on water and supplies.’
‘I do have his mark.’ Haakon gritted his teeth and crossed his arms. ‘Oeric assured me that would be sufficient. We do not intend to be cheated out of our rightful gold.’
‘You scum, you raiding scum. My uncle Oeric never cheated anyone!’ the pockmarked monk shouted out. ‘You cannot foul this holy place with your poisonous heathen lies.’
‘You are right, cousin!’ another shouted. ‘These are the raiders who destroyed my father’s farm last year.’
‘We never—’ Haakon began.
Before he could finish the sentence, the second monk rushed forward with an outstretched dagger, reaching Erik and stabbing him in the stomach before he could react. A red stain spread out over his leather jerkin.
‘To me! To me!’ Haakon shouted. ‘We have been attacked!’
Annis leant out as far as she dared and tried to hear the exchange of words between her uncle and the handsome barbarian.
Her uncle, head held high, turned his back and began to walk away. Someone called out sharply in a foreign tongue. Her uncle stopped. A monk rushed forward, punched one of the barbarians in the stomach. How would her uncle punish the insubordination? Her uncle’s guards rushed forward to protect the monk as the raiders drew their swords.
Annis felt as if she was watching underwater. Time slowed and each movement seemed to take an age. The guards charged, but were engaged immediately.
The wild man lifted his axe aloft, shouting in a barbaric tongue. The dark-haired man put out his hand to check him, but the man shrugged him off as he advanced towards her uncle, axe gleaming in the morning sun.
Her uncle did not move. There was a questioning look on his face. He held up his hands—in blessing or as a plea.
The barbarian paid no attention. He brought his axe down with a single savage blow.
Annis stifled a cry and turned her face from the horror, but the image of the axe falling, and blood spurting, staining the golden sand with its deep red as her uncle’s head rolled, was imprinted on her brain. She did not dare look back as the noise from the beach swelled around her, screams and pleas for mercy combined with furious barbaric chanting.
The bells began pealing furiously again.
Her body became numb. Her hand covered her mouth and her insides churned. Her brain kept protesting that this could not be real. It had to be a nightmare. Such things did not happen here.
Annis wanted to sink to her knees and cry, but above all she wanted to wake up. She bit her lip, tasted blood and then she knew everything was real, horribly, terribly real. But her feet remained frozen. Annis knew if she glanced back, the golden sands would be stained red with blood.
‘What is it, my lady? What has happened? Your face has gone pale. Tell me—what did you see?’ Mildreth’s voice cut through her paralysis.
‘We need to hide. Quickly.’ Annis clasped her hands together. ‘Something terrible has happened on the beach. We are not safe. No one is safe.’
Annis swept the contents of her dressing table into a satchel as she tried to think clearly. There had been rumours of such creatures for several years, attacking farms and demanding tribute from towns near the coast, but she had never imagined any barbarian would attack here. The stories her uncle told were about robbery, rape and worse. He had considered them exaggerated, but she now knew they were 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