Now aged nine and fifty, King Egbert had been for five years overlord of all Angle-land. Viking raids seemed to be a thing of the past. Just when he thought that he could enjoy the twilight years of his reign in peace and security, the storm broke over a small area of his kingdom—Sceapig. The Norsemen caught not only Egbert unprepared, but also King Aethelwulf and, to a lesser extent, Ealdorman Asculf.
Standing at the prow of the leading ship of five, sailing out of Rochester port, Asculf surveyed the widening estuary of the Medway as the steersman veered the vessel towards the Swale.
My God, I pray we are in time!
My God, I pray we are in time!His thoughts went back to two hours before, when a panicked messenger, one of Eadlac’s slaves, galloped into his courtyard. He had recognised th
