A/N: Sorry for both the long wait and the short chapter. Really this should have been part of the previous chapter, but this is what comes of writing and publishing as I go along. All I can say is, you'd have had even longer to wait if I'd put them together!

Also, to anyone reading this who happens to be familiar with Anglo-Saxon names for places, I'm sorry that I'm inconsistent with the ones I use. I wanted to use the names for towns and rivers etc. that my characters would have known, but I've ended up throwing in a few modern versions (Winchester and Exeter, for example), just so people who are less familiar can have some sort of reference point for the geography. That's just in case anyone was wondering! (You can always put it down to the fact that this whole story is a 'translation' from the Old English that Salazar is supposedly writing in.)

The sea was wild and grey and freezing cold, and more than once I thought our boat would go down, but Godric used spells to strengthen the ropes and mast, while the boy, Gulbrand watched him with wide eyes. I was of little help, since the sickness left me unable to do anything other than crouch in the bottom of the boat without moving. In all the many things that I heard learnt, the cure for this sea sickness was not one of them, which might have struck me as amusing if I had not felt so terribly ill.

However, at last, Gulbrand steered us out of the open sea, into the narrow channel between the island of Wiht and the mainland, and so into the mouth of the River Icene. By the time we came beneath the walls of the city of Winchester, and moored against the staithe, the light was fading. From the gloom, figures bearing burning torches approached us.

'Halt there! Who are you?' called a voice.

Godric, who had been on the point of jumping from the boat, paused.

'I am Godric, son of Gryff of the Dart. I've come to see my father.'

In the flickering light, I could see three men, all armed. The one at the front held up his torch, and examined Godric.

'Aye, no doubt of who you are. You have his face. Are you expected? And who are your companions?'

'We are not expected, but I have urgent news. This is Salazar of the Fens,' he went on, using the name that had come to be mine, though I had never chosen it. 'He is my friend, and brother-at-arms. The boy is my servant.'

My stomach had recovered enough for my wits to have started to work again, and I leaned over to Gulbrand.

'Keep your head down,' I murmured.

In the gathering dusk, I hoped that nobody would recognise his noticeably Danish features. Godric seemed sure that the order to kill all Danes could not really have come from the king, but I noticed that he still had not introduced Gulbrand by name, and I did not think that was an accident. 'Gulbrand' was Norse, and could not be anything else, and I thought that Godric had more doubt than he cared to show. And even if it had been merely a slip of the tongue on his part, I myself had little confidence in Aethelred's good sense, or his good nature. We had brought the boy to the very heart of Saxon England.

There was a short consultation between the men on the staithe, their voices inaudible murmurs. Then they stepped back and allowed us to disembark, although they kept a wary eye on us. Godric's sword was all too evident, and if they knew Gryff, they must also know that he was a wizard, while they clearly were not. They were just lowly guards, and if they had tried to stop us we would have been easily able to overpower them. Not that I relished the idea, because we were not there to begin a fight, and it would have been an awkward start to our diplomatic mission.

They did not try to stop us, but one of them escorted us up through the gates and into the town. Fires shone from the clustered wooden dwellings, making the evening seem darker, although the sky was still fairly light behind the cloud. Goats bleated, and the sound of a harper playing drifted through the streets. I had never been to Winchester. In fact, I had avoided most of the larger towns of England since I had come there. They were where the Muggles congregated, and held little appeal for me. Perhaps they reminded me of Burgos.

Winchester, however, was known as the greatest city of the land, a centre of religion, art and learning, where Aethelred and his court spent large parts of the year. As we walked, we passed the dark mass of the two Minsters, one old and one new, so close together as to be intertwined. That, I knew, was where the Muggles held worship for their god, and where those strange men, the monks, lived. Although Godric's family sometimes took part in the Muggle religious ceremonies, I had little understanding of such matters, and had never seen such a imposing sprawl of church buildings. The little Minster in Exeter was nothing in comparison.

However, we did not stop there, but continued beyond it, and there before us was the king's great hall, from whence the harp music issued.

There were more guards at the door. Words were spoken between them and our escort, Godric declared himself again, and one of the men vanished inside. A moment later, the tall, bearded figure of Gryff appeared in the lit doorway. He peered at us, then gave an exclamation.

'Godric! I didn't believe it when they said you were here. And Salazar too! Why have you come? What's happened? Your mother…?' His voice was sharp with sudden worry.

'My mother is well,' Godric hastened to tell him. 'And my sisters also—at least, I hope so. But Father, we have come from Exeter, where they are putting all Danes to death, for no crimes! They have killed this boy's father. We stopped them, but they swear that it's the word of the king. That cannot be true!'

Gryff swore under his breath, glanced over his shoulder into the hall, then seized both of us by a shoulder each—he was still half a head taller than even Godric—and steered us away from the door. Gulbrand followed us like a shadow. Gryff stopped and released us, a safe distance from the king's hall.

'Godric, you are a fool,' he said, in a low voice. 'You should not have come here—and you certainly should not have brought this boy. If anyone here discovers that he is a Dane, he will be killed! Nor should you have interfered in the king's business.'

'You mean it is true?' Godric said with incredulity. 'This is the king's will? Has he lost his senses? What is the meaning of it?'

'Listen to me, Godric. And you too, Salazar. These are dangerous times—perhaps more dangerous than you have guessed. The Danes have not been peaceful lately—too many of them have joined with their countrymen to raid towns and farms. They call for the reinstatement of the Danelaw, and they have support from the dukes of Normandy, who are strong. Aethelred could not ignore it.'

Godric was staring at his father as if he had never seen him before. I had never seen such an expression on his face, of rage and horror and perhaps even fear, all mingled together.

'Do you mean that you agree with this?' he asked. 'This... this slaughter?'

'I did not say that,' Gryff said. 'Godric, this is not a matter of…'

'But you knew that it was happening. You knew, and yet you did nothing!' Godric's voice rose. 'You stand there and tell me that Aethelred is not to blame, that this is what? A necessity? To kill farmers and craftspeople, innocent families, just for holding a Danish name! You see nothing wrong with that?'

'Keep your voice down,' Gryff snarled. 'If anyone hears you talk like this, Aethelred will have you arrested, my son or not! Of course I don't wish this to happen—do you really think that of me? But it is not a matter of my wishes.'

'If you don't agree with it, then do something! You have the king's ear. Talk to him—tell him it must stop. Tell him that innocent folk are dying at the hands of his men!' Godric said, lowering his tone only slightly.

'I cannot do that so easily. Have you learnt nothing of statecraft and diplomacy, Godric? You are no child—have some sense!'

'I do not want to learn those things, if this is what they mean,' Godric said, furiously. 'Sense? What do you know of sense, when you are as mad as the king? I want no part of this, and I will not serve a king who serves his people in this way!'

'Guard your tongue!' Gryff snapped. 'Such words are treason!'

'Then I am a traitor,' Godric replied with such low fury and disgust in his voice that it shocked me. 'And glad to be one.'

'Godric…' Gryff began, and in his voice I heard my own shock reflected back.

But Godric turned, and stalked away from us down the dark street. I hesitated. I would follow him, but I did not know where he was going, or what he intended to do.

'Salazar, talk some sense into him, for God's sake,' Gryff told me.

I turned to the thegn, but I felt that I saw a stranger. The Gryff that I knew was a kind man, who had taken in a strange, foreign boy and asked nothing of him in return, who loved and worked for his family, who strove for peace in the land. He did not condone the slaughter of an entire people, Helga's people. I was slower to anger than Godric, and I saw better the shades of light and dark between right and wrong. But this—this had no shades, and Gryff could not see that.

'I cannot,' I said. 'And I think we should leave this place. You were right—we should not have come.'

I turned, and as I did, I caught sight of the pale face and yellow hair of the boy, Gulbrand, hovering beside me. I had no use for a Muggle youth, but I could hardly leave him there, in a place filled with his enemies.

'Come,' I told him, briefly.

'Salazar!'

Gryff's voice was commanding, but I did not look around. Kind to me he might have been, but my loyalty was to Godric—and to Helga.

We did not catch up with Godric until we reached the staithe, where we had left the boat. He stood there in the darkness, a tall, still figure, hair and cloak blown back in the wind, his shoulders rigid.

'You do not need to come with me,' he said, as we came up behind him.

I raised an eyebrow, though he wasn't looking at me.

'And you suggest I do what, exactly? Remain with your father at Aethelred's court? Where are you going, anyway?'

'I don't know.' His voice was hard and brittle. 'Away from here. Away from him. Somewhere where I'm not working in the king's service. But I've declared myself a traitor; you don't have to join me in that.'

I folded my arms across my chest against the chill of the wind.

'Godric, most people seem to forget it, since I learnt to talk like you, but I am not English. I've sworn allegiance to nobody, especially not to a Muggle king. I cannot be a traitor to something I've never been a part of, or to someone I've never served nor felt any loyalty to. Besides, you're exaggerating the danger. Whatever your father has done, and however angry he might be with you, he's not going to return to the king and report what you've said.'

And you are my brother. My place is beside you. I did not say it. I hoped that he knew.

He was silent for a moment, then nodded, but still didn't turn and look at me.

'I cannot return home,' he said at last. 'I will not return to hold my father's lands, the lands he has from the king, while they continue along this mad path. I will not be a part of it, even indirectly.'

I knew I would not be able to change his mind, even if I had wanted to.

'I must write to Helga,' I said, instead. 'I must know whether she and her family are safe.'

He nodded, and half-turned.

'We could go north. We could go to them. If we are to protect anyone, we need people on our side, Salazar; we need allegiances. There are other wizards who would join with us—and Muggles too. Hraefn is a friend to the Danes, and he knows many people in Northumbria.'

I was not sure what we were getting ourselves into, or whether what he imagined was possible. We did not even know whether our friends were alive. But I wouldn't argue with him that night, with his anger running high above any logic.

'What of the boy?' I asked, gesturing at Gulbrand. 'What are we to do with him?'

Godric looked at him. 'If you wish, you can set sail back to Exeter in the morning. Aelred will take care of you there, or if you would prefer to be out of the town, I can give you a letter to take to my mother. There is always work on the farms.'

Gulbrand's face was in darkness, but I thought he scowled.

'I don't want to go back to Exeter. I want to come with you. I want to help protect my people.'

I gave a startled half-laugh.

'That's impossible.'

'Why is it impossible?' Godric demanded. 'He wants to help—that's natural enough. Can you ride, lad? And use a sword?'

'I can ride, but I've never used a sword,' Gulbrand admitted. 'I can handle a sling shot, though, and a knife well enough.'

'There you are, Salazar. He fights like you.'

I seethed quietly at the jibe, as he must have known I would.

'Godric, he is a Muggle.'

Godric made an impatient movement.

'What of it? Come, Salazar. He's alone in the world. Why shouldn't he come?'

I said nothing. There was no reasoning with him, and I only hoped that we would not regret bringing the boy along.

We did not try to go to sea, but sailed a short way down the river, before mooring to a tree on a soft part of the bank. It was very late and cold, and the moon was high, but it was short work to conjure some basic shelter, transform sticks into a wooden wall, and a piece of spare sailcloth into a good roof. Then I lit a fire. We had brought some small provisions from Exeter, and we ate these in near silence, Gulbrand's eyes closing almost before he had finished. As he finished his last mouthful, he wrapped himself in his cloak without a word, rolled away from the fire, and before long, the even sound of his breathing told me that he was asleep.

Godric and I sat a while longer, neither of us close to sleep, watching the flames dance and flicker. Sitting opposite him, I could see his face where the light of the fire caught it. His jaw was set, and his brows heavy.

'I cannot believe that he is part of this. That he excuses it. That he still follows Aethelred, even now,' he said quietly, at last, and there was a break in his voice.

I also found it hard to believe, but I searched for words of comfort.

'If he did not, he might be ruined. Or killed himself,' I said at last. It was not much, but it was all I had for him.

'Then he should have accepted ruin or death, rather than this!' Godric burst out. His head dropped into his hands, covering his face. 'He is not the man I thought he was,' he said, his voice low and muffled.

He said no more, but remained there motionless, and there was nothing I could say or do to ease his pain.