9
THE CRY OF SEAGULLS pierced the veil of Blake’s consciousness and the smell of the sea made him long for ocean winds.
He opened his eyes to see the ruins of Lindisfarne Priory. Cottages still burned and the remains of slaughtered animals and men lay in the streets, in the direct aftermath of the Viking attack. Blake felt the outrage of the monk who held the Gospels tightly to his breast, and the grief that washed over his soul at what must surely be the loss of what he called family.
“Come, brother.” The words were rough and cut with emotion. “We can do no more here. We must get word to Eilean Idhe, for that witch and her pagan protectors were searching for something and I’m afraid what they seek has been long hidden there. If we hurry, we can make the tidal crossing and begin our lon
