Meneva, A.D. 930
Father and son, king and regent, embraced at the gateway to the monastery.
“I came as quickly as I could,” Owain said. “I have a hundred men. I hope they’ll be enough.
“What do you mean? The battle is over, and we annihilated them.”
“You do not understand, Father; the Norsemen hunt in packs. As we marched, three longships appeared on the horizon. You probably dealt with a lone sea wolf.”
“Mmm. Three longships?” He calculated roughly forty crewmen in each ship–one hundred and twenty Vikings. “Then, we are well-matched, except that our men are better armed and disciplined. Are you sure they were heading this way?”
“Nay, who can be sure? Maybe they’ve veered for Ireland or will sail past on their way to Wessex, but we must be prepared.”
“I’ll position lookouts along th
