"Wait!" I shouted. The word was past my lips before I could prevent it.

The men hesitated. Every eye in the hall turned towards me, and I suddenly found myself very much the object of scrutiny. I stepped quickly to the table, snatched a loaf from the nearest platter and gave it the Sea Wolf. His childlike elation at this simple act was wonderful to behold. He smiled and clutched the bread to him. One of the men holding him reached out to take the food away.

"Please," I said, and stayed his hand.

The man looked to his chieftain. Dinoot nodded. The man shrugged and released the bread. They led the barbarian away and I took my place at table, yearning to shrink into invisibility.

Once the barbarian had been removed, the hall took life once more. The bishop and head man sat together at one end of the table. Dugal, as Cadoc requested, sat at the bishop's right hand; Brynach sat beside him-and all of them talked amiably with one another. It was good to see Dugal finding a little distinction. I had always known him to be a most able and proficient master of his own skills; unfortunately for Dugal, however, they were skills that were so rarely required at the monastery day by day. Thus, he was never offered opportunities to distinguish himself. Until now.

"That was well done," whispered Ciaran, sitting next to me. "I would not have thought of that. I commend you."

Brocmal, two places away, heard this remark, it seemed, and raised his lips in a sneer. Faolan, next to him, saw this and said, "A loaf, brother. That is all. Would you begrudge a hungry man a bit of bread?"

The imperious monk turned cold eyes on Faolan, stared hard at him, and then turned his face away without a word. He reached out and took a loaf of bread from the platter before him, broke it and bit into it.

"Let us give thanks," called Cadoc, rising from his place. He spoke a simple prayer for the food and a blessing on our hosts.

Loaves were passed and ale jars splashed drink into wooden cups and bowls. There was a warm, filling stew of salted beef and barley. The holding owned no spoons, apparently, so we lifted the bowls to our mouths and slurped down the stew, then sopped the gravy with the soft dark bread. We washed it down with great gulps of foaming ale.

Was better food ever put before me? No, there never was any to compare with that simple, nourishing fare. I ate like the starving man I was.

And while we ate, Ciaran told us what he had learned on the way to the village. "Their fathers came from Cerniu. That was long ago, however. The land here is called An Bhriotaini now," he told us between mouthfuls. I said the word silently to myself: Brittany.

"We are north of Nantes;" Ciaran continued, "how far north is not certain. Fin thinks the storm pushed us more east than south. Dinoot says Lord Marius will be able to tell us how far we must go to find the river."

We fell to talking about the last day's events, and the meal passed in a pleasant haze. I remember eating and laughing and singing…and then Ciaran was bending over me, shaking me gently by the shoulder. "Aidan-wake up, brother. Rise, we are going to our beds."

I raised my head from the board and looked about. Some of the brothers were already rolling themselves in their near-dry cloaks before the hearth; others were moving towards the door. I retrieved my cloak and fell into step behind Ciaran. We were led to a roofed byre where new straw had been laid down for us. Not caring where I slept, I stumbled to a corner, yawned and collapsed. Pulling my damp cloak over me, I laid my head in the sweet-scented hay and was asleep again as soon as my eyelids closed.

It may have been the shouting-then again, it may have been the acrid smell of smoke-that roused me from a deep, insensate sleep. I remember coughing as I awoke. The byre was filled with smoke. Eyes wide in the darkness, I stood up, not knowing where I was.

The dogs were barking. I heard the sound of running feet pounding on the earth outside. A sharp cry echoed outside in the yard, and was answered by another. I did not understand what was said.

I moved, shaking off sleep, to the doorway of the byre and looked out. Swift shapes moved in the moonlight. Smoke drifted in the night air. Looking to the hall, I saw long fingers of flame combing the roof-thatch. A figure appeared in the doorway of the hall, looked around quickly and disappeared. Again, I heard the slap of feet on the ground and turned towards the sound. I saw the glint of moonlight hard on a naked swordblade and fell back into the doorway as the figure rushed past.

A woman's scream scattered the silence like the fragments of a shattered jar.

"Wake up!" I cried. "Rise! We are attacked!"

I rushed from one sleeping form to the next, shaking my brother monks from their slumber. Outside, the dogs were in a frenzy. Shrieks sliced the still night air; the shouting increased. The first monks I roused stumbled to the doorway and out. I woke two more and then followed, darting from the byre.

A hut across the yard burst into flame. I heard screams inside, and children wailing. I raced to the hut and threw aside the hide covering; smoke billowed from the doorway. "Hurry!" I shouted, dashing inside. "I will help you! Hurry!"

A young woman, her face illumined by the quick-flickering flames, stood in the centre of the hut, clutching a small child; another brat clung to her legs, mouth wide, tears streaming down its terrified face. Sweeping the child into my arms, I dashed back outside, pulling the woman with me. Once clear of the burning hut, the mother gathered her wits and her children and, holding tight to both, made for the safety of the wood, disappearing into the shadows as she ran.

I turned once more to the yard, now seething in a turmoil of angry, shouting men-many grappling with one another, their combat hellish in the flames of burning roofs and dwellings. Someone had loosed the dogs, and the fear-crazed beasts were attacking friend and foe alike. People were streaming from the hall. I saw Dinoot dash into the open, shouting commands; Dugal emerged right behind him, brandishing a spear.

Bishop Cadoc, God save him, rushed forth, hands upraised, crying, "Peace! Peace!" Bryn and Gwilym darted behind him, desperately trying to interpose themselves between him and the attack. Heedless of his own safety, however, Cadoc darted into the thick of the fight and was set upon at once.

An axehead glinted in the confused light, cruelly swift. I heard the sickening crack of blade on bone and the bishop crumpled like a rag. I started to the place where I saw the good bishop fall, but the fight surged towards me and I could not reach him. The last I saw was Gwilym stooping over the motionless body. Then he, too, was struck down with the same axe.

"Gwilym!" I ran, shouting with all my might. I had taken but three paces, however, when all at once an enormous, broad-shouldered brute with arms as big as hams rose up screaming before me. He attacked and felled a defender with a single blow of his huge club, then straddled the body and raised the club to deliver the killing clout. My feet were already running as the heavy weapon rose over his head.

Throwing my hands before me, I hit the barbarian in the small of the back, shoving him forward as the club fell. His aim spoiled, the club struck the dirt beside his foot. Loosing a tremendous cry of strangled rage, the foeman whirled to face me. It was only then that I realized I had seen that brawny giant before, swinging from the prow of the Sea Wolves' ship.

This thought occupied me longer than wisdom would have allowed. I stood flatfooted and staring while the braided barbarian advanced, club high, ready to crush my skull and scatter my brains over the blood-soaked dirt. In the lurid light I saw the veins bulging in his neck and arms as he swung the club in a tight circle over his head, advancing with slow, murder-bent steps.