‘What else were we supposed to do? They’d betrayed us. They didn’t deserve to live. Listen to me, girl, before you say anything. What we were doing in those weeks, that’s war. We didn’t enjoy it. Of course we didn’t, so don’t for a moment imagine otherwise. No one enjoys it. Not unless their hearts are made of stone or they have given up on all that is good in the world. There is no glory in it, no honour, and it sickens you to the gut when you recall later what you’ve done. Every night I lie awake, thinking about the things I’ve seen, thinking about the blood that stains my soul, not wanting to close my eyes because I know that if I do, I’ll see the faces of all the men I’ve sent to their graves. Everyone whose bellies I’ve run through with spear and sword, whose throats I’ve slit, whose limbs I’ve broken and whose skulls I’ve beaten in. That’s when you start to wonder if it’s all worth it, whether it was the right thing to do. But you don’t question it at the time. You do it because you have to and because you know that if you don’t, they’ll do the same to the people you care about.’
His eyes glisten in the firelight, but if he’s expecting sympathy, he’s going to be disappointed. She can’t do it. She can’t bring herself to feel sorry for him.
Does it matter whether or not his intentions were noble? Does it matter that he took no joy in it? He killed his fellow Englishmen. How is he any different from the Normans?
He says, ‘As much as I despised every one of the men I killed, I hate myself more. For who I am. For everything I’ve done. Those marks cannot be rubbed out.’
‘But they can, if you only give yourself to God,’ Guthred puts in. ‘Confess and do penance before it’s too late, and there’ll be a place for you in his kingdom.’
‘Your god cares nothing for me. He cares nothing for any of us.’
Tova’s breath catches in her chest. To hear him say such words openly, and to the priest’s face . . .
Guthred’s cheeks flush red. ‘I understand your pain. I know you speak from anger. Without God’s light and grace, there can be no resurrection on the Day of Judgement. You must know this. He’s willing to accept you, if you’ll only accept him. Otherwise there’s only death.’
‘Day after day, I see nothing but death everywhere around me. I’ve lived with it for so long now, I feel its stench clinging to my skin.’
‘That’s not what I mean.’
‘I know what you mean. I’ve heard it all before, many times. And I’m telling you I’d rather spend an eternity in your god’s hell than a moment in his heaven.’
The priest does well to remain patient, Tova thinks. Then again he probably heard similar things from the mouths of Wulfnoth and the other reavers.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘The foreigners worship the same god as you, don’t they? So does he forgive their sins as well and allow them into his kingdom?’
‘If they’re true of heart and faithful to the Cross,’ he says. ‘If they repent before the Lord and atone for their wrongdoings, then yes, they’ll find their place alongside him.’
‘There’s your answer then. I want no part of any heaven where I have to live among their kind.’
‘I wish I had the answers you’re hoping for. I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. But I don’t. I can’t. But you must find your faith, as I did. We toil and suffer and die upon this earth, and none of us can pretend to understand his purpose—’
‘Because there isn’t any. There is no life beyond this one, no promised kingdom, no heavenly design. There’s only what we make for ourselves. After that, nothing.’
‘You can’t believe that.’
‘Why not? You renounced your faith too, for a time. You told us so.’
‘Yes, and then I saw the error of my ways.’
Beorn gives a snort. Desperately Guthred glances around the circle, perhaps hoping that one of them will say something that will help convince the warrior, will help him see more clearly and guide him towards the light.
Tova looks away before the priest’s eyes can meet hers, feeling not a little guilty. She has had her own doubts, it’s true, and there have been times in the past couple of days when she’s wondered if Guthred is right about this being the end of days, and if the coming of the Normans truly is God’s punishment for their sins. But at the same time she’s determined not to end up like Beorn. If she surrenders her faith then what does she have left? At the moment it’s the only thing keeping her going.
‘Maybe you should carry on with your story,’ Merewyn suggests.
For a long while Beorn doesn’t speak, or do anything except sit there, his gaze turned towards the ground.
Sheer will is all that’s kept him going, Tova realises. The fire hasn’t gone out of him, not yet, but it has been dampened. He doesn’t want to spend for ever fighting. For all that he talks about reaching Hagustaldesham and continuing the war against the foreigners, she senses there’s a small part of him that would be happy enough to die. At least then it would be all be over.
*