It never failed to surprise him how quietly the big Angle could move in the dark. By contrast, those following behind were like a herd of bullocks. Still, the wind from the sea was loud in the trees. It would take the noise off behind them, away from the men they were approaching. It had been a wild thirty-six hours since the Heathobards had brought them the news. They had slipped away from Heoroweard’s funeral and ridden down to the port. While Castricius had rounded up the crew, got the Warig fitted out for the sea, Maximus had gone with Ballista to see Ceola. It had not been an easy meeting. The young duguo charged with the defence of the coast was Morcar’s man. He had been sitting drinking with his father Godwine. The old eorl was not close to Morcar, but it was evident he had no great love for Ballista either. As luck would have it, Ivar Horse-Prick was drinking with them. In the end, Horse-Prick had made them see the urgency. Isangrim would be caught up in the funeral feast for the remainder of the day.
