Sanctuary (Dominion) (19 page)

Except by one man.

"We have to go back to the church," I said, turning to leave.

"No," Pepin grabbed my arm. "That will be the first place they go."

"You don’t understand. Something is about to happen."

"Daniel, you will die! Remember what happened at Lindisfarne. Do you want to be slaughtered, like them? We can escape during the battle. No one will care about two men trying to flee up river."

"The church is our sanctuary, Pepin. We will be protected there."

Pepin furrowed his brow, almost as surprised at those words as I was. I'm not sure whether I said them out of instinct, or because I honestly believed them to be true, but I felt strongly enough in them to go back and find out. Just like Rogwallow, raiders were here and ready to ravage the town, and a strange man with a demon tormenting his soul troubled me. These portents were the catalysts that would bring Arkael back, for him to protect those of us who sought shelter in the church. “You have to believe me.”

“Don’t be a fool, Daniel!”

I left my friend standing in the street and ran back to those protective stone walls. I don't know where Pepin went to hide, but I remember that at the time, I thought him weaker than I.

What a fool I was.

Chapter 15

The roads were empty and silent. Doors were barred, windows were closed, the only sound was the tumult of battle off in the distance. Even when walking the streets at night, I would see people through the windows, or hear conversations from inside homes. But not this morning. The only signs of life in the entire city were the worried eyes peeking between the slats of wooden walls.

I reached the desolate plaza and ran to the church doors to find them closed and barred. I didn’t bother shouting. I just ran around and came in through the back, which no had yet thought to lock. When I reached the nave, Eadwyn hurried to me, clearly agitated.

“Where have you been?” he nearly shouted.

“I saw the attack,” I said, panting. “The Vikings, they hit us from different directions. Some of them attacked the walls on the northeast corner, where the wood was rotting. They tore it apart and now they’re inside the city.” Eadwyn’s face turned white, and his mouth opened and then closed while he tried to think of something to say. “If they get through the defenders, they will come here. They want the silver we have, and they may kill us for it.”

Eadwyn's eyes darted to the expensive decorations hanging on the walls, ornate silver crosses, paintings, tapestries, the decorative plates, and the silver and tin chalices sitting on a wooden counter along the back wall. That was only the items on display. A small fortune in silver, jewels and irreplaceable relics could be found in our storerooms or in the tower.

“We-we-we can make the doors stronger,” he said. “We’ll put guards outside, and hide everything in the stables.”

Eadwyn rubbed his hands together tightly, squeezing the blood from his fingers. I'd never seen him like this, struggling to handle a life or death situation, and for the first time in my life, I realized I was better prepared to deal with something than him. I’d been through this terror already, and while this moment wasn’t any less daunting, I could at least think rationally. For example, I looked at the thick oaken plank used to bar the main doors, and I found myself wondering why we should even bother. I didn’t think barring the doors would stop a horde of Vikings for more than a few minutes, and it might just make them angrier if they have to fight their way in, but I didn’t tell Eadwyn that.

“I’ll find some guards to help,” I said. “Send the women away. Anywhere. Just hide them.”

Eadwyn jerked his head and called for Deaga to round up everyone she could and take them to the storerooms in the annex and lock themselves inside. I went back to the tower and looked through the windows again, searching for anyone nearby wearing both armor and the livery of the city’s guards but I found no one. I could hear the roar of men far in the distance, and trails of smoke dotted the skyline near the walls. The battle must have been ferocious, but the streets were empty here. We were on our own.

I went back down and stood next to Eadwyn at the pulpit as he tried to calm everyone. He said God would look after them while they sought refuge inside His house, but his hands shook the whole time he spoke. I whispered to him that a prayer might settle everyone’s nerves and he agreed. He bowed his head and began reciting a prayer in Latin, and most of the congregation, if this scared and unfortunate rabble could be called that, did the same. I didn’t hear his prayer, though. I was too busy saying my own.

Be strong and courageous, do not be afraid or tremble...for the Lord, your God is the one who goes with you. He will not fail you or forsake you.

It was the same prayer I’d made in Rogwallow, only this time, instead of begging for Aedre’s life, I’d beg for my own, along with everyone else inside this church.

Save us from these vile men. These pagan invaders who want nothing more than to destroy those who put their faith and their lives in Your hands. Save us from this evil.

Save us, by sending us Your champion
.

That was it. That was my call for Arkael to arrive and drive this heathen army away. I had no inclination whether it would work or not, but right now I had no other option. Either Arkael would save us all, or these Vikings would take the city and slaughter everyone in their way. I watched the people of Eoferwic crowded before me, most of them too old or too young to be counted on to defend, or too poor to be considered important enough to hide anywhere else. Mothers wrapped their arms protectively around their children. The elderly prayed. Young children looked around with wide eyes, some of them wondering what the fuss was about, while others picked up on the fear running rampant through the room and cried or burrowed deeper into their parents’ embrace. If ever there was a time for God to send His champion, it was now.

It took some time, but a group of soldiers eventually fell back to the church, intending to defend it, but they were scattered and disorganized. They tried to rally a shield wall on the main street leading into the plaza, but it collapsed as soon as the Vikings charged. The defenders who survived that charge either died fighting alone against the Viking horde, ran away to rally someplace else, or came inside. They pounded on the door, and when the bar was lifted five armored Northumbrians rushed inside. Two stayed at the door to help put the bar back up. Two more ran to the back, near Eadwyn and myself. The fifth, however, tried so hard to strip himself of armor and weapons, hoping to hide amongst the poor, that he fell onto the ground and writhed about while pulling his chain shirt free. He finally yanked it off and threw his sword into the corner, then kneeled down on the opposite side of the church. We all watched his cowardice, but no one tried to stop him. I suspected, however, that at least half the people in the church were silently contemplating giving him up to the Vikings if it saved their own lives to do so.

Almost as soon as he kneeled to the ground, the doors thumped again. Gasps flew across the room, and everyone shuffled away. Another bump, this one much harder, caused the corroded metal braces holding the plank to creak. They wouldn’t hold much longer, no matter how hard everyone in the room prayed for them to do so. Eadwyn stared at the door, his face pale and mouth open. I reached over and grabbed his arm, which caused him to flinch.

“We are in a holy place,” I said, holding him still. “Pray with me.” He looked at me like he’d never seen me before, and I squeezed my hand around his forearm. Finally, he nodded, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. We both turned away from the door, toward the wooden cross that hung behind the altar, and kneeled.

“Almighty Lord in Heaven,” I said, loudly. “Protect us from these vile attackers. Spare the blood of the innocent this day.”

He will be here. Any moment now.

Two more loud thumps behind us and the bracket on the right side broke loose, falling to the ground with a clang, while the bar hung loosely from the other. I spared a glance over my shoulder to see the enemy push through, throwing the doors open, the bar dragging against the stone floor. Vikings streamed into the nave, tall, broad-shouldered men with long hair and fierce eyes staring out from under their helms. Like the raiders at Rogwallow, most wore leather armor, wool pants, and thick, mud-covered boots, but a few were lucky enough to have a chain shirt. Some had bands of gold or silver on their arms, and from what little I knew, the more bands a Viking had, the more men he’d killed. They shouted warnings we couldn’t understand and waved their swords and axes threateningly. The congregation swarmed against the side walls in fear, screaming and pushing against each other, and about a dozen more ran for the back door. All four of the men who were still armed threw down their weapons and knelt to the ground with their hands out, surrendering.

Their eyes watched us at first, searching the crowd for anyone who would dare to stand against them, but then they saw the treasures we held, and we might as well have been mice scurrying out of their way. They scattered about the room, admiring the silver and gold that they thought would be theirs, while a few, led by a tall, lean Dane with at least a dozen silver and gold rings on each arm came straight down the middle, in my direction. The hair on my neck stood up, and I tried not to stare at any of their bloodied weapons. Otherwise, my mind would run free imagining what they could do to us with them.

The church is protected. It is our sanctuary. He will come.

Some of the Danes went straight for the artifacts hanging on the walls, or on the counters. Several more went into the back, just as another half-dozen arrived to survey the scene. One plowed through the crowd and grabbed a young mother by the arms. She screamed and struggled, but he held tight and then shoved away the two children that clung to her legs.

“Be strong and courageous,” Eadwyn said, his eyes shut and his head bowed in prayer, “do not be afraid or tremble....” I looked at Eadwyn in disbelief as he recited the same prayer I’d made only moments ago, the one that brought Arkael to me in Rogwallow. Had I said mine out loud? How did he know to say the exact same thing?

The Danes dragged one of the soldiers near the door to the center aisle and held him there at sword point. The other resisted, however, earning him a beating. They punched him until he collapsed to the floor, covering his head, then they kicked him. Some of the women screamed. One of the Vikings, a tall, heavy warrior with brown hair turned to the sound of the screams and laughed, enjoying the horror being inflicted. He said something in Danish to the other Vikings nearby and they grabbed the beaten man and held him up. Then he pointed his sword to the man’s neck and watched the shocked faces around him with glee.

He will walk through that door! I must have faith!

The brown-haired Dane soaked in the attention for a moment, and then plunged his sword into the man’s neck. Blood oozed out around his sword, and when he pulled the blade free it gushed down the front of the soldier’s torso. Women and children throughout the room screamed while the Dane laughed.

“No,” I said to myself, seeing Rogwallow all over again. I stood up.

"Daniel!" I heard a harsh whisper behind me, from Eadwyn, and I felt a hand on my robe. "No!" I ignored him. I knew this was reckless. One didn't approach a group of Danes in a ransacking mood and tell them to stop. But a very small part of me, just enough to propel me forward, believed in that word - sanctuary - and I let it carry me.

"Stop!" I shouted. They couldn't understand my words, but I didn’t care. "This church is holy ground. It is protected by God. You must leave this place now!"

The Danes stared at me, curiously. One of them approached, the one with the arm bands, and I involuntarily took a step back, wary of the sword in his hand. He grabbed my robe at the neck and pulled me closer, fishing for the crucifix around my neck. The smell of sweat in his hair was overpowering, but it was the scent of blood on his hands that made me sick to my stomach. I whispered to myself that I would be safe, that God would watch over me, that Arkael would be here any moment now. But those words did little to lessen the unease I felt as he pulled the leather crucifix out, then shoved me away with a look of annoyance. He moved past me to the others huddled at the back, and I trembled, surprised that I still lived. Unfortunately, that surprise only served to embolden me in my madness.

"God's justice will be upon you if you do not leave His house!" I pointed at the door. "Your salvation is through those doors. Leave now, before God passes judgment on you, and finds you wanting.”

The Viking turned back around, looking even more annoyed than he had a moment ago. He barked something at the others, making them laugh, then approached me. Again, fear shot through my limbs, making my hands and feet tingle, and I froze, unable to work my legs. The Dane yanked me by my shoulder with his large, gauntleted hand, turning me toward his fellows, laughing with them now. For a moment, I thought he would only have some fun with me, perhaps try to intimidate me. But that was not to be.

A knee to my groin dropped me to my knees as pain pulsed through my body. I tried to hold it off, manage it, keep my composure, but instead a kick to my stomach knocked the wind from my lungs and I collapsed to the floor, curled into a ball. Another kick, this time to my chest. Then my arm. My hip. My stomach again. The Dane kicked me over and over with his thick boot, and I did everything I could to hold him off until Arkael arrived to stop them. He would come. Any moment now.