‘How far?’
‘An hour away? But they’re canny, lord. They’re coming slow and they have scouts too.’
‘You weren’t seen?’
He scoffed at that. ‘We’ve watched them, lord, and they ain’t seen a hair of us. Your son’s taken the other lads north so they don’t find him, but he’s coming soon as he can. Doesn’t want to be left out.’
We were on the western crest of the hills that enfolded the Devil’s Valley. To my left, in the north, the ground rose higher and the slopes were steeper, while the eastern ridge, opposite us, offered an easy slope down to the mounds. I stared at that ridge, looking for any sign that an enemy scout was already there, but I saw nothing. Nor did I expect to. Any man there would be like us, lying low.
‘Borrow a fresh horse,’ I told Oswi, ‘then ride down to warn Finan. Don’t hurry! Just take it slowly.’ If there was an enemy scout watching the valley then a horseman in a hurry would raise an alarm, while a man ambling into the valley would raise no suspicions.
The day grew warmer. I was in my mail coat, reluctant to put on the helmet in case it reflected sunlight to anyone on the far crest. I had brought one of my father’s old helmets that had two big iron cheek-pieces which would leave only my eyes showing. My shield, waiting with Aldwyn in the lower ground behind me, was smeared with pitch. A black shield, such as Owain of Strath Clota’s men carried, and Owain was now Constantine’s ally. All our shields were black, while the three battle-flags showed a red hand holding a cross, the symbol of Domnall, Constantine’s chief warrior. If Æthelstan knew I had killed Ealdred, let alone Guthfrith, he would have brought a mighty army to Bebbanburg long before the harvest. So someone else must take the blame.
‘There’s someone there,’ Egil said.
I stared at the far ridge, my view blurred by the grass in which we lay. I saw nothing.
‘Two of them,’ Egil added.
‘I see them,’ Sihtric said.
Oswi had reached Finan, who only had thirty men now. I had brought the others up to join us. Finan, like his remaining men, wore no mail, had no helmet, and only wore a short seax instead of Soul-Stealer, his sword. His shield, mail coat, sword and spear were behind me, on the hill, as was the gold. Finan would pretend to flee when Guthfrith attacked, racing with his men up to our hilltop where they could retrieve their weapons and armour. Their shield, like mine, had been smeared with pitch so that when they joined the battle they would appear to be men from across the northern border.
‘Over there!’ Sihtric jerked his head northwards and I saw an enemy scout working his way around those higher hills. The man was on foot, going cautiously and staying back from the crest so he could not be seen from the valley. I swore. If he came another half mile he would see my men, but then he came to the gully where the stream poured from the hills and he paused. He stared towards us and I stayed motionless. The man waited a long time, then must have decided that he had no need to scramble across the steep gully with its fast-flowing stream because he turned back and I lost sight of him.
It was almost midday by now. High thin clouds hazed the sun. There was still no wind. Sheep bleated somewhere far to the west. Finan’s men, some bare chested in the day’s warmth, were saddling their horses, while two were carrying bundles from the shelters and putting them in the leather bags of two packhorses. They were carrying stones, but to the watching scouts it must have seemed that they were stowing the golden pieces. I wanted Guthfrith’s men to think Finan was leaving, and that their best chance of capturing the treasure was to attack quickly. I pulled on my helmet, smelling the stink of old sweat in its leather liner. I pulled the heavy cheek-pieces closed and tied them together.
‘They’re there,’ Sihtric breathed the words, though there was no chance of his being heard on the far ridge a half mile away. I stared, and thought I saw men lying on the crest, but the heat shimmered the skyline and I could not be certain. ‘I saw a spearhead, lord,’ Sihtric said.
‘Two,’ Egil confirmed.
I slithered backwards and turned to my horsemen. They were sweating in mail and close-fitting helmets. Flies buzzed around their horses. ‘Soon!’ I told them. They watched me anxiously. They were close to two hundred men mounted on heavy stallions, gripping baleful black shields and holding their long heavy spears. ‘Remember,’ I called, ‘these are the men who raided our land! Kill them! But bring their leaders to me.’
‘Lord!’ Egil called urgently.
They were coming. I stood and ran back to the ridge top where I crouched. Guthfrith’s men were spilling over the far crest in two groups, the smaller to my left. That group, maybe thirty or forty strong, was streaming down the far slope and I guessed their job was to circle around Finan’s men to block their escape, but they were already too late. Finan and his men, feigning panic, were fleeing, apparently so panicked that they left the packhorses behind. I watched, careless that I could probably be seen, though I reckoned that the men hurrying their horses down the far slope were far too intent on their breakneck ride to notice me. I waited, beckoning Aldwyn forward with my stallion. Egil had gone back to mount his horse, as had Sihtric. I wanted the enemy to stop in the valley’s centre, I wanted them to dismount and only then I would unleash my men. The smaller group, seeing Finan’s
