494 TORCHES HAD BEEN SET INTO THE CRUMBLING CITY WALL AND upon the green height of Hengest’s mound. They flickered with pale fire in the last light of the soft summer day. The space before the mound had been cleared and spread with rushes to accommodate the tables for the wedding feast. The King’s Hall had not room enough for so many, and in any case, this close to Midsummer it was far too warm to huddle indoors. The sound of Andulf’s chanting floated on the wind. He was old now, and his voice no longer as resonant as it once had been, but he still had the trick of pitching it to carry across the field. “Hail the heir of high-born heroes— Son of the Saxons who first to these shores; West over whale-road, borne by the wind, The old land left, new lives to fashion—” Oesc, who had gone to consult with his steward about serving more mead, surveyed the scene and smiled. Two dozen tables rayed out in a semicircle from his own, where Rigana, draped in crimson silk and hung with gold, awaited him.
What do You think about The Hallowed Isle Book Two?
