We didn’t stay there long. There could well be more Welshmen prowling the hills — friends and brothers of those we had killed — and if the boy went back to them rather than to his lord, they would surely come to seek their revenge sooner rather than later. Although we were all weary and it was already late, I knew we could not rest yet.
Before we went, we rounded up the enemy’s horses and searched their camp for anything useful or valuable. A man could rightfully claim anything owned by someone he himself had killed, except for silver and anything more precious, which had to be given up to me. In all we managed to find thirty-nine pennies, which I would share out amongst my knights later. Since I had slain the enemy’s leader, I claimed for myself his silver chain and gold ring, while the village men found and traded with each other for helmets and knives, shields and weapons, as well as brooches, tunics and even shoes. I saw?dda donning a fine green cloak trimmed with what looked like otter fur, while another man tried to buckle up a leather corselet that was too small for him.
What food we could gather I divided up into equal parts, though there was little of it: some dozen loaves of bread no bigger than my fist, a handful of small cheeses wrapped in scraps of cloth, and a few berries and nuts. It was not much of a feast, given that we had two dozen empty stomachs to feed, but it was more than any of us had eaten all day, and it came as welcome relief.
With the light fast fading, then, we left that place of slaughter, following our own trail eastwards in the direction of home. As night descended it grew harder to find our way; the moon was new and cloud was beginning to gather, obscuring the little light offered by the stars. We were becoming ever more stretched out, and several times those of us at the front had to stop to let the stragglers catch up.
‘They can’t go on much longer,’?dda told me when we paused to drink. ‘The women have been through a lot. They need to rest.’
I glanced back at the rest of our party, though it was too dark to make out much more than their shapes. Bringing up the rear were Serlo and Turold, who were doing their best to keep everyone moving; I recognised them by the glint of their mail. In front of them rode the women on their newly acquired mounts, while the men half walked, half stumbled alongside, leading the animals over rocks and trees that had fallen across the way. In the middle was Hild. Her head was bowed, no doubt so the others could not see her tears.
‘We can’t stop yet,’ I said. The longer we stayed in enemy country, the less I liked it. At most we could have made three or four miles, I reckoned, and probably not even that. ‘We need to make it to the dyke at least.’
The dyke was the ancient divide between Wales and England, built in the time of a certain King Offa, who had ruled in these parts some three hundred years ago, or so I was told. Beyond it lay friendly country, and while that was no guarantee of safety, I would feel better for reaching it.
‘Look at them, lord,’?dda protested. ‘They won’t manage that.’
I set my teeth, but deep down I knew that the Englishman was right. Not everyone was strong enough to keep on marching for hour after hour, and no amount of coaxing would change that. The last thing I wanted was to lose anyone now. And so even though I didn’t like it, I did not argue with him.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘Across the valley to the next ridge, and then we’ll stop.’
?dda passed on the message to his kinsmen, and as soon as the stragglers had caught up we carried on, crossing the brook and climbing the rise opposite, until we found a good place to set up camp, next to a spring, with a clear view in every direction. The few tents we had taken from the enemy were not large enough to hold everyone, but there was no wind and the night was warm. As long as it did not rain, the trees would be shelter enough.
So far I’d managed to stave off tiredness, but now the day’s exertions were beginning to catch up with me. My eyelids felt heavy and my limbs were aching, but I forced myself to stay awake. Someone had to stay on guard, and I trusted no one more than myself. With Serlo for company, I decided to take the first watch.
The night was still. Only the burbling of the spring, and the soft song of steel as Serlo sharpened his sword, broke the silence. Down in the valley, bats flitted between the trees, swooping low and then twisting mid-flight, darting back into the shadows. Otherwise there was no sign of movement. I sat cross-legged upon the ground, still in my mail with my scabbard beside me, drinking ale from one of the leather flasks we had taken from the enemy. It tasted bitter, more so than the sort I was used to, and not entirely to my taste, but I supposed that was the way the Welsh must like it.
‘Lord?’ said Serlo, after a while. He sat beside me, though he was facing in the other direction, running a whetstone down the edge of his blade.
‘Yes?’ I asked.
‘Those men we killed earlier, the ones who said they were sent by King Rhiwallon.’
‘What about them?’
‘Do you think they’re the same ones who attacked last week?’
He might also have asked whether it was they who had come at full moon a fortnight ago, or last month, or indeed the month before that.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. It was possible, I supposed, although I found it hard to imagine. Wales was a lawless country, where men did as they pleased, where oaths and alliances were made and broken at will; a land where princes rose and fell with the seasons, where a man could count himself a king if he held a single valley. To think that there was any pattern to the attacks was to suggest that there was some plan to them, and that I could not believe. All that most of them were after was sheep and women and, if they could lay their hands on it, silver.
But then why had these ones said they’d been sent by Rhiwallon himself? A mere dozen men was too small a band to cause much disturbance, and if they met with any resistance then all they could do was flee. Unless their purpose was simply to make trouble, to harass our lands this side of the dyke and instil fear amongst their enemies. In which case they had failed. Instead, by killing them, we had sent a warning back to their lord.
‘They’re growing bolder,’ Serlo said, and even though he was turned away from me, I pictured the scowl that would be on his face. ‘There’s something brewing, something big. Isn’t there, lord?’
I hesitated. Apart from the raids, the last year had in truth been fairly settled. While there were often tales of disturbances in one corner of the country or another, for the most part they were local matters, and easily put down. There had been no news of the northern rebels, who were lurking somewhere in the hills and the woods of Northumbria. Nor had anything been heard of Eadgar?theling, the man I had sworn to kill, who last year had murdered my former lord in the ambush at Dunholm. He was out there with them, though no one knew where, and while many suspected he would make another attempt to take the crown that he believed was his, there had been no sign of it yet; no word of his men marching or of his ships sailing.
Many months lay between now and winter, though: plenty of time in which to mount a campaign, and I didn’t doubt that the?theling was busy plotting something. And so a part of me couldn’t help but share Serlo’s suspicions. My sword-arm itched at the very thought. It had been too long since I’d had the chance to test it in battle, and by that I meant a proper fight, not the small raids and skirmishes we were always fighting in this border land. I yearned for the clash of steel upon steel, the blood rushing through my veins, the delight of the charge, the pounding of hooves, the weight of the lance in my hand ready to strike, the cries as we drove into the enemy’s lines. The bloodlust. The battle-joy.
‘Lord?’ Serlo said again.
But I had no answer for him. Instead I passed him the flask I’d been drinking from. ‘Here. Try some of this. I need a piss.’
I ventured down the hill, towards the willows by the stream, though not so far that I lost sight of the tents upon the rise. My right leg had gone numb from the way I had been sitting and I tried to stretch it out, limping slightly as I went.
I reached the stream and was just about to unlace my braies when, carrying on the faint breeze, I heard what sounded like sobbing. Frowning, I ducked beneath the branches and the drooping leaves, fending them away from my face as I made my way towards the noise. I did not have to go far. Barely ten paces away from me, kneeling down by the stream with her head in her hands, was Hild.
How had she managed to slip away without either Serlo or I noticing? Probably while we were speaking, I thought, and silently I castigated myself for not being more careful. If I couldn’t keep close watch over our own camp, how easy would it be for the enemy to take us by surprise?
She saw me standing there, and straightaway scrambled to her feet, brushing dirt from her skirts, speaking quickly in words I didn’t understand. She was a thin girl, short of stature; not yet married, for her hair was uncovered and unbound, and not unattractive either, despite the graze to her cheek where she had been
