‘And fate is a bitch too,’ he said, ‘but what’s our fate now?’
‘To avoid all fields of barley,’ I said lightly.
He did not smile. ‘Are we going home, lord?’
I nodded. ‘We’re going back to Spearhafoc,’ I said, ‘and we’re going home.’
He looked at me almost with disbelief, then made the sign of the cross. ‘And thank the living Christ for that.’
And so we walked back north. Crows or foxes had savaged the swan’s corpse, strewing feathers around the exposed ribs, and I touched Thor’s hammer and silently thanked the gods for sending me their signs.
‘Those dreams,’ Finan said awkwardly, ‘they’re not always right.’
‘They’re a warning, though.’
‘Aye, that they are.’ We walked on. ‘So what happens to Lavender Tits now?’ Finan asked, anxious not to talk any longer about his premonition.
‘That’s up to her brother. I tried, now he must.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘And Awyrgan,’ I said, ‘is guarding the wrong road.’
‘He is?’
‘If Æthelhelm’s men retreat they’ll likely come down this road. Some of them, anyway. They won’t want to lose their ships.’
‘And that pompous little earsling doesn’t know they have ships?’
‘Apparently not,’ I said. ‘And I didn’t think to tell him.’
‘So let the pompous bastard waste his time,’ Finan said happily.
It was late in the summer afternoon. The sky had cleared, the air had warmed and sunlight glittered its reflection from the flooded meadows and marshes. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said to Finan.
‘Sorry?’
‘I should have listened to you. To Eadith. To Sigtryggr.’
He was embarrassed by my apology. ‘Oaths,’ he said after a few paces, ‘sit hard on a man’s conscience.’
‘They do, but I still should have listened. I’m sorry. We’ll take the ship north and then I’ll ride south to join Æthelstan in Mercia.’
‘And I’ll come with you,’ Finan said enthusiastically. He turned to look back the way we had come. ‘I wonder how Sigulf is doing?’ There was no sound of battle from Fæfresham, but we were probably far enough to be out of earshot of the clash of weapons and the screams of the wounded.
‘If Sigulf has any sense,’ I said, ‘he’ll negotiate before he fights.’
‘Does he have sense?’
‘No more than me,’ I said bitterly. ‘He doesn’t have a reputation, not that I’ve heard, and his father was a treacherous fool. Still, he’s attacking Æthelhelm and I wish him luck, but he’ll need more than a couple of hundred men to fight off Æthelhelm’s revenge.’
‘And that’s not your fight, eh?’
‘Anyone who fights Æthelhelm is on my side,’ I said, ‘but coming here was madness.’
‘You tried, lord,’ Finan said, trying to console me. ‘You can tell Æthelstan you tried to keep the oath.’
‘But I failed,’ I said. I hate failure and I had failed.
But fate is a bitch and the bitch had not done with me yet.
Oswi was the first to spot our pursuers. He called to me from behind, ‘Lord!’
I turned and saw horsemen coming. They were a good way behind us, but I could see the red cloaks. Finan, of course, saw more than I did. ‘Twenty men?’ he said. ‘Maybe thirty. In a hurry.’
I turned to look southwards, wondering if we could reach Spearhafoc before the horsemen reached us and decided we could not. I turned again. My worry was that the small group of approaching men was merely a vanguard, that a horde of Æthelhelm’s warriors was close behind them, but the distant road beyond the galloping horsemen stayed empty. ‘Shield wall!’ I called. ‘Three ranks! Red cloaks in the front!’
The horsemen would see their own men barring the road. They might wonder why, but I did not doubt they would think us their allies. ‘Sigulf must have chased them out,’ I said to Finan.
‘And killed the rest?’ he asked. ‘I doubt it. There were—’ He stopped suddenly, staring. ‘They have women!’ I could see that for myself now. Behind the leading horsemen were four or five riders all cloaked in grey except one who wore black. I was not certain they were women, but Finan was. ‘It’s Lavender Tits,’ he said.
‘Is it?’
‘Has to be.’
So Æthelhelm’s men in Fæfresham must have decided to remove Eadgifu and her women before the Centish forces could reach the town’s centre. They were now cantering down the road, heading for their ships, and doubtless relying on Wighelm and his men to provide much of the crew, but Wighelm was somewhere on the Isle of Sceapig, naked.
‘Don’t look threatening!’ I told my men. ‘Rest the shields on the ground! I want them to think we’re friends!’ I turned back to Finan. ‘We’ll have to be quick,’ I said. ‘Name half a dozen of your men to seize the women’s bridles.’
‘And once we’ve rescued her?’ he asked. ‘What do we do with her?’
‘Take her to Bebbanburg.’
‘The sooner the better,’ he grunted.
The approaching horsemen were half hidden by a tall stand of reeds and still no one followed them from the town. I closed my helmet’s leather cheek-pieces to conceal my face. ‘Berg,’ I called. Berg was in the front rank, one of the men cloaked in red and carrying Æthelhelm’s leaping stag on his shield. ‘When they get close, hold up a hand! Make them think we have a message!’
‘Yes, lord.’
The horsemen emerged from the thick reeds and spurred towards us. ‘Front rank,’ I called, ‘you take care of the leading horsemen!’ I had thirty men in three ranks. ‘Second rank!’ I was in the second rank, thinking I was less likely to be recognised than if I stood in the front. ‘We get rid of the horsemen behind the women. Finan! You take the women, then go where you’re needed.’ Meaning he would reinforce
