There was no time to wonder about this, for I heard a loud shout, which was answered at once by the roar of a multitude, or so it seemed. I turned to see swarms of men running down the steep hill before us.

The camp slowly stuttered to life. The eparch appeared. I ran to him. He stared at me in the dusky light. "Where is Nikos?" he demanded angrily.

"I saw him riding away," I answered, pointing out the direction behind me. "We are being attacked!"

Out of nowhere, King Harald appeared, long-axe in hand, leaped onto the nearest wagon and began bellowing his battle-call. Within moments there were Sea Wolves everywhere-though far fewer than there had been before-running, shouting, calling their swordbrothers to rise and fight.

Weapons glinting dully, the warriors raced to join battle as the first foemen reached the camp. The ring of steel on steel and the shouts of fighting men filled the valley and echoed through the ravine. I had no weapons-and would not have known what to do if I had-but determined to stay with Eparch Nicephorus and protect him if I could. This proved no easy chore, since he insisted on rushing directly into the thick of the fight to lend his aid.

"Here! This way!" I shouted, pulling him back from the toiling bodies before us. Indicating a supply wagon nearby, I said, "We can see best from there." Hastening to the wagon, I paused to help the eparch into the box, and then climbed up myself. We stood together and watched the fearful clash.

The enemy were not large men-at least, not when set against the Sea Wolves-but they were many and dressed in dark cloaks and turbans, making them difficult to see in the pre-dawn light. Even so, in those first desperate moments of battle, it seemed as if the superior strength and battle-skill of the Danes would win out. For the Sea Wolves stood to their grim work, shoulder to shoulder, each man protecting his neighbour's unshielded side, forcing the oncoming enemy back and back, one step at a time.

"You see, eparch!" I cried. "They are driving them away!"

The eparch, keen-eyed in the murk, said nothing, but gripped the sides of the wagon and stared at the dread battledance before us.

I looked in vain for Gunnar; I could not see him anywhere, and feared he must have been among those killed in the rockslide.

The Danes howled their full-throated battle cries, and I understood why they were called wolves. The sound was uncanny, striking fear into the heart, and weakening even the most stalwart will. Jarl Harald was fearless, standing in the front rank, his axe swinging with practised and deadly accuracy. Men fell before him-some shrieking in agony, some toppling silently, but all with startling rapidity. The axe-blade bit deep, its appetite insatiable.

As the first flush of battle passed, it became increasingly apparent that the Danes were even more sorely out-numbered than my first estimate. It may be that more and more enemy were arriving-reserves held back from the initial attack were perhaps being committed now-for it did appear that the numbers of dark-cloaked foe were swelling.

Slowly, painfully, the flow of battle turned against us. The eparch and I stood in the wagon and watched with growing horror as the Sea Wolves were inundated and engulfed by the ever-growing tide.

"Pray for them, priest!" Nicephorus cried, seizing me by the arm. "Pray for us all!"

Alas, I could not. God had forsaken me, and I knew my prayers would fall like infertile seed on the hard ground of God's stony heart. For all the good my prayers would do, I would have a better chance of saving us all by taking up a spear, and I knew well what a sorry warrior I would be.

I was spared further meditation on my worthlessness, however, by the sudden appearance of a grim-faced warrior waving a bloody war hammer. "What are you doing?" shouted the warrior. "Get out of there!"

I was jerked off my feet and pulled bodily from the bed of the wagon, then hurled to the ground where I lay squirming in an effort to get away. The eparch likewise was hauled kicking from the wagon and dropped, scarcely less gently, beside me.

"Aeddan!" shouted Gunnar, "you will be killed standing up like that." Before I could say anything, he shoved the eparch and me beneath the wagonbed. "Get under there," he instructed sternly, "and stay until I come back for you."

He was gone again before I could speak a word to him. The eparch asked, "What did he say?"

"He said we are to keep out of sight until he returns."

"But I can see nothing from here," complained the eparch. He endured the ignominy of our position for but a moment or two longer, and when there came a great shout from the battleline, Nicephorus bolted from beneath the wagon, shouting, "I will not be seen hiding like a coward!"

I ran after him, seized him, and pulled him back to the wagon. We did not go under it again, but we did stand beside it to watch the battle. What we saw, however, filled our mouths with bile. Everywhere, the Danes were being driven down. The ranks of the enemy had swelled the more, and were in danger of overwhelming all resistance.

Even as we watched, there came another great shout and the dark foe surged as one, throwing back the defenders ten paces at once. Another shout, another surge, and the forerank buckled and gave way. The resistance was breached and our defences in imminent danger of being overwhelmed.

Harald was a canny battlechief; he would not allow himself to be surrounded so easily. Realizing the peril, he raised his bull roar and began calling the retreat. The Viking warriors fell back and soon were passing along the road. Gunnar ran to us. "The battle is lost," he said, breathing hard. "We must flee while we can. This way. Go!"

So saying, he spun me around and began pushing me ahead of him. "This way!" I shouted to the eparch. "He will protect us!"

Back along the road we fled, past the broken mounds of rock which now marked the graves of Danes, merchants and their families, running for our lives. The traders who survived, having seen how the fight was turning, were already fleeing up the hill; I could see them before us, bent beneath the burdens they sought to save.

The first of the traders reached the crest of the hill and fled over the top. Seeing their escape, we all ran the harder to make good our own.

Alas and woe! It was not to be.

No sooner had the escaping merchants vanished from sight than they reappeared once more, flying down the hill and screaming for everyone to turn back. Not comprehending the significance of their screams, we proceeded on a few more paces. Two heartbeats later there arose before us an enemy host as great or greater than the one that came behind. They seemed to spring up out of the hilltop to sweep swiftly down upon us.

"Stay down!" cried Gunnar, pushing me to the ground even as he ran to engage the attackers. Reaching up, I pulled the eparch down beside me, and we hunkered there, half-crouched by the roadside, as merchants and traders streamed back wailing in terror as they ran. Some still carried their wares on their backs.

Caught between two enemy forces-one behind and an even greater one before, the Danes had no choice but to fight on to the last man, or surrender.

It is not in the Sea Wolves to surrender.

Harald rallied his men-now numbering fewer than eighty, I reckoned-and renewed the fight. Bellowing like a mad bull, he called on Odin to witness his valour, then he and his remaining karlar rushed to meet the new threat with such ferocity that the enemy was momentarily staggered. The onrushing ranks halted and were in some places thrown into confusion as howling Sea Wolves, gripped by the blood-lust of battle, drove headlong into them. The sound of the clash was deafening-men screaming, cursing, crying as they fought and died.

Oh, it was a dreadful slaughter. The Danes fought with astonishing courage, time and time again performing startling acts of savage and wonderful daring. I saw Hnefi-arrogant, prideful warrior that he was-fight without a weapon when the broken stub of his sword was struck from his hand. Rather than retreat to find another blade, he darted forth, grabbed his foe, lifted him high, and threw the man into a knot of advancing enemy. Four men went down and Hnefi leapt upon them and slew them all with their own spears.