The end of year 850 brought momentous tidings to Asculf. On a personal level, Ethel had missed her courses and her morning sickness assured her she was with child; on the political front, he learnt that the Vikings had returned to Angle-land. He congratulated himself that he had not been idle in the intervening years. A fleet of twenty-four warships in Minster Bay, complete with trained crews of warrior-sailors, testified as much. The news was bleak. A messenger reported a battle at the ominously named Bloody Pool, where Ealdorman Ceorl and the Devonshire levy nobly fought the Norsemen at Wicga’s stronghold, only to suffer great s*******r.
As winter approached, one morning, the watchtower alarm bell clanged. Asculf raced up the steps to peer out to sea. Against the pewter grey sky, on the
