‘Maybe they all went east,’ Egil suggested.
‘Five hundred men to invade Mercia?’
‘They’re Norsemen, remember,’ he said lightly.
Eadric gestured us onwards. We were riding deeper and deeper into Norse land now, still hidden by the autumn trees, but betrayed by the birds that fled our approach. I was nervous. The enemy could outnumber us, surround us, trap us, but still there was no sign of that enemy. No birds flew in panic from the trees on the far ridge, no horsemen rode the Roman road or the track beside the Mærse. Then Rolla came back again. ‘Lord? You’ll want to see this.’
We followed him to the tree line, again looking out across the Mærse and further, out to sea, and there I saw the ships. ‘Dear God,’ Finan breathed again.
There were ships coming from the north, a fleet of ships. I counted forty-two, but there could have been more. There was scarce any wind so they were rowing, bringing men to the peninsula’s end, and the leading ships were already within bowshot of land. ‘Dingesmere,’ I said. ‘That’s where they’re going, Dingesmere.’
‘Dingesmere?’ Egil asked.
‘A harbour,’ I said, ‘a big one.’ It was a strange harbour at the seaward end of Wirhealum, a mostly shallow sea-lake edged with mud and rushes and approached by channels tangled with sandbanks, but Dingesmere was large enough and just deep enough at the lowest tides to hold a whole fleet of ships.
‘Want me to look, lord?’ Eadric asked.
We were still too far away to see the wide marshes at the peninsula’s end, and I suspected that there were already hundreds of the enemy gathered there. I did not want to risk my men by leading them into a hornet’s nest, but I needed to know if there was already an army somewhere close to Dingesmere. ‘It might be too dangerous,’ I told Eadric reluctantly, ‘I suspect there’s an army there.’
‘There soon will be,’ Egil said, watching the far ships.
‘They’ll not see me, lord,’ Eadric said confidently. ‘Plenty of ditches to hide in.’
I nodded. I almost told him to be careful, but that would have been a waste of words because Eadric was always cautious. He was also good. ‘We’ll wait for you back there,’ I nodded down the ridge.
‘It’ll take a good time, lord!’
‘We’ll wait.’
‘Maybe dusk,’ he warned me.
‘Go,’ I said, smiling.
We waited, watching the far ships. ‘They’re not coming from Ireland,’ Thorolf remarked, ‘they’re all coming from the north!’
He was right. The ships, which were still appearing, were coming down the coast. It was possible that the Irish Norse had crossed the sea and made landfall too far north, but Norsemen did not make that kind of error. ‘It’s Constantine’s army,’ I said, ‘that’s what’s happening. It’s the Scots.’
‘In Norse ships?’ Thorolf grunted. The far ships had beast-heads, not crosses, on their prows, and their hulls were leaner than the heavier Scottish ships.
‘They’re allies,’ I said. ‘Anlaf is bringing Constantine’s army.’
‘But why?’ Egil asked. ‘Why don’t the Scots just keep marching?’
‘Because of the burhs.’ I explained how Æthelflaed had built a string of burhs on Mercia’s northern frontier. ‘How many men is Constantine bringing?’
‘Fifteen hundred?’ Finan guessed. ‘Maybe more if the blackshields are with him.’
‘And they’ll march past those burhs in a great long line,’ I said, ‘and he’s worried the garrisons will attack him.’ I turned Snawgebland. ‘We’ll go a mile or so back.’ If I was right, and if Anlaf’s ships were ferrying Scottish troops to Wirhealum, then Anlaf’s own army must already be ashore and we were too close to the peninsula’s end for comfort. I could only wait for Eadric now, but would wait a little closer to Ceaster, and so we went back through the autumn trees and there, with sentries watching the north, we dismounted and let the time pass. The wind freshened and the far ships hoisted their sails. By mid afternoon we must have seen a hundred and fifty ships, while far to the east the smoke rose from steadings being burned by the horsemen we had seen earlier.
‘He did say dusk,’ Finan reminded me. He knew I was worrying about Eadric. ‘And the old fellow is good! They’ll not see him. He could sneak up on the devil himself.’
I was sitting in shadows at the edge of the trees, gazing down into the wide heathland scarred by the Roman road. Beneath me, at the foot of the slope, a stream flowed between steep muddy banks. ‘No otters,’ I said.
‘Otters?’ Finan sat beside me.
‘A good place for otters.’
‘They’ve been hunted out. Otter skin sells too well.’
‘Kingfishers, though. I’ve seen two.’
‘My grandmother said kingfishers bring good fortune.’
‘Let’s hope she’s right.’ I touched my hammer.
And just then Oswi came running back through the trees. ‘Men coming, lord, on the road!’ I looked northwards and saw nothing. ‘They’re a good way off, lord,’ Oswi crouched beside me. ‘Maybe thirty of them? All on horseback and carrying banners too.’
That was strange. We would flaunt our banners as we advanced to battle, but rarely flew them over small groups. ‘They could be distracting us,’ I suggested, ‘and sending men through the trees?’
‘Seen nothing in the woods, lord,’ Oswi said.
‘Go back, keep a sharp eye!’
‘We’d better mount up,’ Finan suggested, and by the time I was in Snawgebland’s saddle the enemy horsemen were in sight. ‘Thirty-four men,’ Finan said.
‘And two of them carrying branches,’ Egil had joined us. We were standing our horses in the shadows.
‘Branches!’ Finan said. ‘You’re right.’ I saw that two of the leading horsemen carried branches thick with brown leaves, a sign that the horsemen rode in truce.
‘Maybe they’re going to Ceaster?’ I suggested.
‘To demand the city’s surrender?’
‘What else?’
‘We’d better get back first,’ Finan said sourly, ‘to make sure that bastard Leof doesn’t say yes.’ But then, before I could respond,
