Between the fyrd and the Danes, the grass and meadow flowers rippled in the wind, ready for the haymaking, ready for the scythes to slice through and cut them down. Oswald’s eyes met his father’s, and he saw for the first time how like Edith’s they were. Ahead of them, the King seemed to draw himself up a little taller. Beorn put his hand on Oswald’s shoulder.
‘One last hope then, Oswald Child,’ he said. ‘And may God indeed save us from evil.’
A stillness, sudden and short. The song of a lone bird, high, warbling, beautiful. The charge.
Wessex, 871. The Danes grow stronger by the day and the kingdom is on the verge of being overwhelmed. Oswald, longing for home, wonders if the next battle will be his last. Meanwhile Brinin tries to carve out a new life for himself in the village and asks if a true home is something he will ever know.
Julie Rowbory grew up in Northern Ireland and was educated at the University of Cambridge, where she obtained an MA and then an MPhil in history. She has worked as a Latin and history teacher, taught English in Asia and lived in East Africa. She is married to David, with whom she has four daughters. They divide their time between Scotland and West Africa.