Conrad Monk and the Great Heathen Army by Albert Edoardo

Author:Albert, Edoardo [Albert, Edoardo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lume Books
Published: 2018-07-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

I turned round. From this distance, I could not tell how many — but there were enough.

This , I thought, is what I get for carelessness . I thought I had got away with life and Book and had let down my guard. Now the Danes were going to catch me and kill me... slowly.

For once, Wolfbait did what I asked him: he began to gallop frantically towards Rohesia’s Cross. If we could get in among the houses, there was a chance I might be able to hide, particularly as this was a settlement the Danes had not yet sacked. If fortune was with me, the Danes would get distracted by some fleeing girl or hastily hidden treasure. But all that depended on me getting to the village before they did and, looking back, I could see the riders were gaining on us quickly.

“Brother Odo, I’ll get the Book to safety, slow them down.”

“How?” he wailed after me, but I was already galloping away from him. It would take the Danes a precious few moments to take Brother Odo captive or to kill him — I didn’t much mind which, so long as it took them some time. It was just a pity he wasn’t a warrior, then he could have bought me minutes rather than a few heartbeats.

I looked over my shoulder to see how he was doing, only to see Brother Odo riding after me as fast as the pursuit.

“Go back!” I yelled. “Stop them!”

“I’m trying,” Brother Odo cried, and indeed I could see he was hauling on the bridle. “Buttercup won’t let me!”

The donkey had his ears pinned back and his head pushed forward. Great gobbets of froth fell from the sides of his mouth where he chewed the bit, but he would not stop, despite Brother Odo’s frantic hauling at the bridle. It seemed that the beast was not going to allow Brother Odo to sacrifice himself on my behalf.

If I lived, I would have to see to that animal.

But at the moment, the prospects did not seem good.

The villagers, seeing our frantic approach, were sounding the alarm: bells and cries and whistles signified a general flight. People were running out into the fields, trying to get into the relative safety of the surrounding woods before the Danes arrived. Some ran with nothing but their clothes — one man, caught short, was running bare-bottomed for cover — but others struggled under hastily-grabbed treasures, from babes in arms to ancient shields and swords that, from the look of them, were last wielded by the soldiers of the emperors of old. Even the halt and the lame hobbled away, being helped, carried and sometimes simply dragged towards cover.

I thought of riding after them and trying to find cover myself among the trees, and would have done so but for Wolfbait slowing down. Despite my frantic kicking, and even with the shouts of the pursuing Danes beginning to reach us, he could not speed up: the beast was shot.

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