“We knew he was coming. We knew where he would attack. We were outnumbered, but we had the high stone walls of Ceaster and they were worth a thousand men. Sigtryggr knew that too and, like all the Northmen, he had no patience for a siege. He had no time to make ladders, no tools to dig beneath our ramparts, he had only the courage of his men and the knowledge that he had tricked us. Except we knew what the trick was. Welcome to Ceaster. The sun had risen, but it was dark in the Great Hall, the ...gaunt Roman building at Ceaster’s centre. A fire smouldered in the central hearth, the smoke curling under the roof before finding the hole hacked through the tiles. Men slept at the hall’s edges, their snores loud in the vast space. There were tables and benches, and some men slept on the tables. Two maidservants were placing oatcakes on the stones of the hearth, while a third was bringing timber to revive the fire. There were huge stacks of timber outside the hall. It was not firewood, but trunks of oak and elm that had been rudely trimmed.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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