So that, I thought, was why she had come to Cent? ‘And they’d have aimed their spears at your sons,’ I said.
She seemed not to hear me, but instead went forward to where the half-drenched Awyrgan was sitting on a bench. I turned and caught Benedetta’s gaze. She held my eyes, as if daring me to speak aloud of what I suspected, and I thought again what a beauty she was. She was older than Eadgifu, but age had added wisdom to beauty. She had a dark skin, which gave her grey-green eyes a striking intensity, a long nose in a slender, grave face, wide lips, and hair as black as Eadgifu’s.
‘Where to?’ Gerbruht distracted me. He had come aft and taken the steering-oar.
The sky was darkening. It was dusk, a long summer dusk, and no time to begin a long voyage. ‘Cross the creek,’ I said, ‘find somewhere to spend the night.’
‘And in the morning, lord?’
‘We go north, of course.’
North to Bebbanburg, north to home, and north to where no kings died and no madness ruled.
We crossed the creek in the dying light and found an inlet that twisted deep into Sceapig’s reeds where we could spend the short summer night. The ships we had set on fire burned bright, throwing lurid shadows on the small harbour, their last flames only extinguished as the first stars showed.
We could have sailed that evening, but we were tired and the shoals around Sceapig are treacherous and best tackled in daylight. We were safe for the night, we could sleep under the watch of our sentries and there was a hummock of dry ground where we could make a fire.
The wind died in the darkness, then came again with the dawn, only now it was a west wind, brisk and warm. I wanted to leave, wanted to be sailing Spearhafoc north along the East Anglian coast, wanted to leave Wessex and its treachery far behind, but Benedetta asked me to wait.
‘Why wait?’ I asked her.
‘We have things to do,’ she said distantly.
‘So do I! A voyage!’
‘It will not take long, lord.’ She still wore the grey cloak and hood, her face shadowed from the sun that rose behind her to gloss the Swalwan Creek with a shimmer of red gold.
‘What won’t take long?’ I asked irritably.
‘What we must do,’ she said stubbornly.
I understood then. ‘There’s privacy under the steering platform,’ I told her, ‘and buckets.’
‘Eadgifu is a queen!’ Benedetta said with a touch of anger. ‘Queens do not crouch in a stinking space over a dirty bucket!’
‘We can wash the buckets,’ I suggested, but received nothing in reply but a scornful look. I sighed. ‘You want me to find her a palace?’
‘I want you to give her some privacy. Some dignity,’ Benedetta said. ‘She is a queen! We can go to the alehouse, yes?’ she pointed across the creek.
‘That harbour will be full of Æthelhelm’s troops,’ I said. ‘Better to piss in a bucket than fall into their hands.’
‘Then the reeds will do,’ she said stiffly, ‘but your men must stay away.’
Which meant I had to order two of the rowing benches to be loosened and fashioned into a makeshift gangplank, then post sentries to guard the reeds from anyone approaching whatever place the women chose, and finally threaten death by dismemberment if any of those sentries were within sight of the women. Then we waited. I talked to Awyrgan as the sun rose higher, but he could tell me little of what had happened in Fæfresham the previous day. He had posted his men as guards on the road that led to Lundene, then been surprised by Æthelhelm’s horsemen who had attacked him from the south. ‘We fled, lord,’ he confessed.
‘What of Sigulf?’
‘I don’t know, lord.’
‘The last I heard,’ I said, ‘they were negotiating.’
‘Which only bought them time to take her ladyship from the convent,’ Awyrgan said bitterly.
‘Then you’re fortunate I was here,’ I said.
He hesitated, then nodded. ‘Indeed, lord.’
I looked across the reed beds, wondering what on earth took the women so long, then back over the creek. At first light the harbour had appeared deserted, but now I could see men there, red-cloaked men. I pointed to them. ‘Æthelhelm’s men,’ I told Awyrgan, ‘which suggests Sigulf lost. And they can see us. They’ll be coming for us.’
‘You burned their ships, lord.’
‘But I didn’t burn their fishing boats, did I?’ I cupped my hands and bellowed at the reeds, ‘My lady! We have to go!’
And it was then I saw the ship. A small ship, coming from the west, rowing down the Swalwan Creek. I could not see the hull, which was hidden by the tall reeds, but there was a cross on the prow, and the distance between that cross and the high mast suggested it could not hold more than ten or twelve benches on each side. The approaching ship’s crew had lowered their sail, presumably for fear that a sudden gust of wind might drive them onto a mudbank and leave them waiting for the tide. Oars were slower, but much safer. ‘Gerbruht!’ I bellowed.
‘Lord?’
‘We have to stop that ship! Get us under way!’
‘The women!’ Awyrgan protested.
‘We’ll come back for them. Oars! Hurry!’
I threw off the only mooring line, which we had tied to a massive log that had drifted ashore, then men began poling the ship out of the narrow inlet. ‘Mail!’ I called, meaning that men should don their armour. I pulled my own mail coat over my head, holding my breath as the stinking leather liner scraped my face. I buckled Serpent-Breath to my waist. The bow oars were in clear water now and Spearhafoc lunged ahead. I shoved the steering-oar over, held my breath again as the hull touched mud, but a heave of the oars pulled her free. We turned westwards and more oars found purchase as we slid into deeper water. I could see the approaching ship now and see
