‘If you assault the gate—’ Merewalh began.
‘We don’t assault the gate,’ I interrupted him. ‘They’ll think we’re East Anglian troops come to reinforce them.’
‘After dark?’ Merewalh was intent on finding problems and, if I was honest, there were many. ‘Men usually don’t travel after dark, lord. What if they refuse to open the gate?’
‘Then we wait till morning,’ I said. ‘In fact it might be even easier in daylight. We’ll have crosses on our shields. We just have to persuade them we’re East Anglians, not Mercians.’
It was at that moment that Finan came into the hall with one of Brihtwulf’s warriors. Both men looked hot and tired, but Finan was grinning. The four of us fell silent as the two men paced towards us. ‘Six men,’ Finan said as they reached us.
Merewalh looked puzzled, but I spoke before he could question Finan. ‘Did they see you?’ I asked.
‘They were riding too hard,’ Finan found a half-filled pot of ale on a table and drank, before offering it to his companion, ‘and they didn’t see a thing.’
‘They didn’t see us,’ Brihtwulf’s man confirmed. His name was Wihtgar, and he was a lean, dark-faced man with a long jaw and just one ear. The missing ear had been sliced off by a Danish axe in a skirmish and the puckered scar left by the axe was half hidden by long greasy black hair. Brihtwulf, whom I liked, had told me Wihtgar was his best and most vicious warrior and, looking at the man, I believed it.
Merewalh was frowning. ‘Six men?’ he asked, confused by the brief conversation.
‘An hour or so ago,’ Finan explained, ‘we saw six men riding south, and all of them from this garrison.’
Merewalh looked indignant. ‘But I ordered no patrols! Certainly not this late in the day.’
‘And all six were Heorstan’s men,’ Wihtgar added menacingly. We had sent two of Brihtwulf’s men with Finan because they would recognise any horsemen from Merewalh’s forces.
‘My men?’ Heorstan took a backwards step.
‘Your men,’ Wihtgar said, ‘your men,’ he repeated, then named the six. He spoke the names very slowly and very harshly, all the while staring into Heorstan’s bearded face.
Heorstan looked at Merewalh, then gave a weak smile. ‘I sent them to exercise the horses, lord.’
‘So the six have returned?’ I asked.
He opened his mouth, found he had nothing to say, then realised silence would condemn him. ‘I’m sure they’ve returned!’ he said hurriedly.
I slid Wasp-Sting from her scabbard. ‘So send for them,’ I growled.
He took another backwards step. ‘I’m sure they’ll return soon …’ he began, then fell silent.
‘I’m counting to three,’ I said, ‘and if you want to live you will answer my next question before I reach three. Where did they go? One,’ I paused, ‘two,’ I drew Wasp-Sting back, ready to lunge.
‘Toteham!’ Heorstan gasped. ‘They went to Toteham!’
‘On your orders?’ I asked, still pointing Wasp-Sting towards his belly. ‘To warn Æthelhelm’s troops?’ I pressed him.
‘I was going to tell you!’ Heorstan said desperately, now looking beseechingly at Merewalh. ‘Lord Uhtred’s plan is madness! It will never work! I didn’t know how to stop our men being slaughtered in Lundene so thought I would warn Æthelhelm and tell you afterwards. Then you’d have to abandon this madness!’
‘How much money has Æthelhelm been paying you?’ I asked.
‘No money!’ Heorstan gabbled. ‘No money! I was just trying to save our men!’ He looked at Merewalh. ‘I was going to tell you!’
‘And it was your scouts that drew the garrison out of Lundene,’ I accused him, ‘with false stories of an army approaching Werlameceaster.’
‘No!’ he protested. ‘No!’
‘Yes,’ I said, and touched Wasp-Sting’s sharp tip to his belly, ‘and if you want to live, you’ll tell us how much Æthelhelm paid you.’ I pressed the seax against him. ‘You do want to live? You’ll live if you tell us.’
‘He paid me!’ Heorstan said, now in terror. ‘He paid me gold!’
‘Three,’ I said, and drove Wasp-Sting into his belly. Heorstan half folded over the short blade and then, ignoring the agony in my shoulders, I used both hands to rip the seax upwards and he made a mewing sound that turned into a choking scream which faded as he collapsed slowly, his blood reddening the floor rushes. He stared up at me, his mouth opening and closing and his eyes full of tears. ‘You said I could live!’ he managed to gasp.
‘I did,’ I answered, ‘I just didn’t say how long you could live.’
He lived a few painful minutes longer, finally bleeding to death. Merewalh was shocked, not by Heorstan’s death, he had seen enough killing not to be worried by the spreading blood and choking breaths, but by the revelation that Heorstan had betrayed him. ‘I thought him a friend! How did you know?’
‘I didn’t know,’ I answered, ‘but if our plan was to be betrayed we needed to know. So I sent Finan south.’
‘But it is betrayed!’ Merewalh protested. ‘Why didn’t you stop the men?’
‘Because I wanted the men to reach Toteham,’ I said, cleaning Wasp-Sting’s blade on a scrap of cloth, ‘of course.’
‘You wanted them …’ Merewalh began. ‘But why? In God’s name why?’
‘Because the plan I told you and Heorstan was false. That was what I wanted the enemy to hear.’
‘Then how do we do it?’ Merewalh asked.
So I told him. And next day we rode to war.
PART FOUR
Serpent-Breath
Eleven
The dawn brought a mist that lingered above the meadows, drifted across the Roman walls, and was lost in the smoke from Werlameceaster’s hearths. Men walked horses in the town’s streets where a priest offered blessings outside a small wooden church. Scores of warriors knelt to receive a muttered prayer and a touch of his fingers on their foreheads. Women carried buckets of water from the
