Peter Jackson stated that he found making The Two Towers the most difficult of the Lord of the Rings trilogy because it lacked a normal beginning and ending. When I started the second of my Sorrow Song Trilogy, For Rapture of Ravens, I wondered if I might have the same problem, but I do not think that I did. I knew that I had to use the conclusion of The War Wolf to set up the opening scenes of For Rapture of Ravens, but I am not sure that Tolkein thought in the same way when he wrote his books. I was able to write several passages that recounted what had happened at the Battle of Fulford Gate, not as a long flashback moment, rather as personal to the characters who had survived that encounter, such as Coenred.

One of the aspects of warfare that I wanted to explore was that of personal loss. Mildryth was already a widow and so she knew all too well the impact of the death of a loved one. Her friend, Branda, was experiencing it for the first time in relation to her husband. I tried to capture the reality of grief in a society that encompassed war as a fact of life. The wrote poems about it, made fabulous weapons decorated with gold, silver, and precious jewels, and made success through violence a means of social advancement. One of Coenred’s friends was born a coerl, a peasant, but through his prowess he has made himself a huscarl, a member of the Saxon’s warrior elite. However, the success of every hero who picks up a sword is measured in the blood of the men that they have killed and the women they have robbed of their husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons. That loss is rarely if ever recorded in the poetry that glorifies heroic events on the battlefield.

The Battle of Stamford Bridge is more famous than the Battle of Fulford Gate, but it is still overshadowed by the Battle of Hastings, or Sentlache Ridge as the Saxons themselves knew it. I suppose that this is because the victors always get to write the history. Indeed, if you visit York, you will find precious little to suggest that the Saxons were ever present there, the city is obsessed with the Vikings. Harald Hardrada, the King of Norway, had invaded England with the largest Norse army ever to set foot in the country. His capture of York is what caused King Harold of England to race northwards. Hardrada’s success placed the kingdom in peril. King Harold brought with him an army that matched the Vikings and at Stamford Bridge he inflicted the greatest defeat upon them ever recorded, but this success is hardly ever recognised. The one event that most people can identify is that a single Viking held the bridge against the whole Saxon army. I could find no evidence of this famous event actually happening. It is mentioned well after the battle in Norse sources only. I decided to use it as a metaphor for what was about to happen in the battle itself. The Viking giant was cut down by Saxon ingenuity, just as Hardrada was outmanoeuvred by King Harold’s quick response in marching from London in only 5 days.

This second book is not all about the battle, however. There was an obvious opportunity to develop the relationship between Coenred, the reluctant lover, and Mildryth, a woman with every reason not to become attached to a man who risked his life as an occupation. Love in a time of war is possibly more interesting because the threat to it, the danger represented by violent conflict, makes it all that more fragile. Mildryth is all too aware that Coenred’s life could be taken by an enemy spear and he, for his part, is convinced that a concern for her could distract him at a crucial point when he is fighting for his life. The book ends with the Saxons basking in the warmth of their victory over their ancient enemy, but it is also overshadowed by the approach, at last, of a new invader; the Normans.