Brothers of the Wild North Sea by Harper Fox

certainly are.”
     
     
    Cai waited for punishment to fall on him—or, worse, upon one of the brave souls who still joined him each day to learn to fight. Aelfric hadn’t forbidden it. He was allowing the rebuilding of the church in timber, wattle and daub, and Theo’s bones lay undisturbed beneath it. Still, he spent most of his days in whispered consultation with one or other of his retinue, and Cai had little doubt that whatever balance of power his own efforts had disturbed, soon the scales would swing back with a vengeance.
    He wasn’t given time to find out. And Aelfric’s plans, whatever they had been, died in the bud. On a full-moon night barely two weeks after the abbot’s arrival, the raiders came again.
    This time they met with a frightened, ferocious resistance. The men sleeping in their makeshift dormitory started awake at the frantic ringing of the bell. Aelfric had allowed a night watch too, and the appropriation of the bell Hengist used in the kitchen to summon Eyulf to scrub turnips.
    Cai stood up in the middle of the bunks, gesturing for silence and calm. “We knew this would come,” he said softly. “My men, you know what to do. The rest of you—find Aelfric and go with him to the crypt.”
    Cai had never meant to divide them. He took no joy in military prestige, but he saw the difference in demeanour between those who had become Cai’s men and those who would go to huddle with Aelfric in the crypt. His father would have enjoyed it—the nervous, proud vigour of the soldiers as they tucked up their cassocks into their belts and headed for the armoury, even the most graceless of them made noble by purpose. Cai followed them out. He found poor Eyulf blubbering in a stack of sheepskins in his favourite storage barn, unearthed him and sent him running with the others for shelter. Then he too armed himself and strode out onto the cliffs.
    The longship had ridden in fast on the wind. Hefting his sword, Cai took deep breaths of salt air. By cloudy, scudding moonlight, he saw Benedict at the top of the path, the narrow gully through which the invaders must come. Ben had kept his longstaff in preference to a sword, and was crouched like an avenging troll in readiness, Wilfrid opposite to him. For Ben’s sake, Cai had tried to assign Oslaf a safer place away from the front line, but Oslaf, bewildered by Ben’s new coldness, had refused to let him far out of his sight, and was stationed on the clifftop. He looked up at Cai’s approach. “I can’t see them yet, Caius.”
    “Don’t worry. They’ll be here.”
    “Perhaps they sailed by after all.”
    “No. I saw from the infirmary—the longship is drawn up right under the cliffs. Be at the ready.”
    Oslaf nodded staunchly, and Cai felt sudden pity for him. “Listen. Aelfric’s given Benedict one of his hellfire-and-damnation talks.”
    “About… About me?”
    “That’s right. Ben’s trying to look after you by backing off, that’s all. So be a good lad and play the game. You understand?”
    Oslaf looked up at him, anger and relief in his eyes. “Thank you. Oh, I wish Theo was still here.”
    “So do I, believe me. So do I.”
    There wasn’t time for more. The air beyond the cliff’s edge glowed bronze and resounded with shouts. Confused movement filled the gully, and Ben leapt off the rock where he’d been perched, straight into the path of the oncoming raiders.
    “No!” Cai yelled. He’d told Ben to wait, wait till he’d picked out the leader and could drop on him from behind, get that stick across his throat. By red Viking torchlight he saw Ben tackle the first huge pirate head-on, as if all he wanted was to kill someone or die trying. Oslaf, instead of holding position to defend the main buildings with Cai, dashed straight into the fray, howling his lover’s name like a battle-cry—and Cai, before he could think or reflect, found himself tearing off in Oslaf’s wake.
    Cai’s strategy went to the devil. He should have known.