'Jarl Sigurd's silver?' I called, already moving towards him. 'But we can't take Serpent out alone.'
'Look to the west, red-eye!' he yelled, standing and placing his hand on his hips.
I looked west but could see nothing and so I ran to higher ground and looked out again. And then I saw them. Warriors. Helmeted and shield-bearing, and one held aloft a red banner which sagged against a spear shaft.
'It's Sigurd!' I shouted. 'Floki, you cunning bastard, it's Sigurd!'
'Of course it's Sigurd!' he yelled up to me, the smile on his face clear even from that distance. 'Freyja's tits, who else would it be, lad?'
I ran to Cynethryth then and took her into my arms and swung her round, yelling with joy. Because my jarl had come.
'I told you to go and raise children!' Sigurd boomed, coming down the grassy dune on to the salt marsh. With him came his Sword-Norse, their eyes shining as they hungrily breathed in the sea air.
'Leave off the lad, Sigurd,' Olaf said, a great smile breaking his bushy beard. 'There'll be plenty of time for that after we've made ourselves rich.' Olaf grabbed my head and pulled me against him, planting a great kiss on my head. 'Good of you to look after Serpent for us, Raven,' he said, kneading my skull with his knuckles.
'You've Black Floki to thank for that, Uncle. I've had my hands full looking after myself.' I laughed.
'Laughter, the balm for the soul,' said a voice from within the knot of warriors.
'Father Egfrith?' I said, but I knew it could not be Egfrith because the monk was dead. But then the Norsemen parted, as men would from a wet dog that is about to shake, and there he was, leaning on a broken spear shaft, his head bound in bloodstained linen. 'I saw Glum kill you,' I said, astonished. Some of the men touched amulets and sword hilts to ward off evil. Cynethryth ran and threw her arms round the little man and he winced at her touch.
'There there, my girl,' he said, sniffing loudly. He looked at me. 'The good Lord has preserved me, Raven, in spite of that bast—' he made the sign of the cross, 'in spite of that animal Glum's attentions.' He pushed Cynethryth away. 'There there, child,' he said again, 'it's all right. God is with us and all will be well.'
'You saw him dead?' Bjarni asked me, staring at the monk and scratching his blond head.
I shrugged. 'He looked dead,' I said. 'There was a lot of blood.'
Bjarni batted those words away as though blood had nothing to do with it, and I knew what he was thinking, what they were all thinking, and that was that the monk must have some power. Or else his god did.
'Dead or not, here he is,' Bjorn said, 'with a head like a mashed swede.'
Egfrith seemed to be enjoying the attention. He made the sign of the cross over Cynethryth's chest, then closed his eyes and began to mumble in prayer.
'Glum must have cut half his brain out,' Arnvid said, pointing his spear at the monk. 'Little bastard's madder than old Asgot.'
'Watch your tongue, Arnvid, or I'll cut it out while you're next asleep and feed it to the snails!' Asgot called, crossing the shingle towards Serpent.
'You should be dead, monk,' I said, still staring in disbelief, for I had seen Glum's sword crack his head.
Egfrith suddenly stopped his mumbling and turned to me.
'Should I? You think so?' he said, gingerly touching the bloodstained linen and staring at me. 'Then could it be any clearer that the Lord on high has chosen me to do His work? I will teach these heathens the mysteries of the true faith.' His little eyes were darting like tadpoles. 'I had not thought such a thing possible, but there it is. Perhaps there is hope for you creatures after all.' He shrugged. 'Perhaps I needed the sorest of tests to learn it.' I felt myself grimace. 'Did you know all of Wessex is celebrating?' he said. 'Even now men and women give thanks to God and light beacons on the high ground. The heathens have gone, they told me, back to the sea. Back to the depths of Hell to minister for the Dark One. But I knew different, Raven. I knew you had not gone yet.' He wagged a finger at me. 'I knew I would find you here on the shore. I felt the Lord's breath on my face and I knew I would not be too late.'
Unable to understand his words, the Norsemen suddenly seemed bored of the monk and disbanded to continue their preparations for leaving. Cynethryth touched Egfrith's shoulder affectionately, then turned and walked down to the sea.
'Is he working his magic on you, Raven?' Sigurd said, coming to stand beside me and planting his spear's butt in the shingle. A slight grin touched his lips, but beneath his breeze-stirred golden hair his eyes were slits of suspicion as they probed the monk.
'If he tries anything slippery I'll finish what Glum started,' I said in English for Egfrith's benefit.