drummed intermittently. We rode in silence for a while, turning away from the river to go into an orchard where wrynecks sang among the pink blossom.
Pyrlig curbed his horse under the trees and pointed at a muddy patch in the grass and I saw hoof prints sifted with fallen petals. The prints were fresh and there were a lot of them.
'Bastards were here, weren't they?' he said, 'and not so long ago.'
I looked up the valley. There. was no one in sight. The hills rose steeply on either side with thick woods on their lower slopes. I had the sudden uncomfortable feeling that we were being watched, that we were blundering and the wolves were close.
'If I were a Dane,' Pyrlig spoke softly, and I suspected he shared my discomfort, 'I'd be over there,'
he jerked his head to the western trees.
'Why?'
'Because when you saw them, they saw us, and that's the way to where they saw us. Does that make sense?' He laughed wryly. I don't know, Uhtred, I just think the bastards are over there.'
So we went east. We rode slowly, as if we did not have a care in the world, but once we were in the woods we turned north. We both searched the ground for more hoof prints, but saw none, and the feeling of being watched had gone now, though we did wait for a long time to see if anyone was following us. There was only the wind in the trees. Yet I knew the Danes were near, just as a hall's hounds know when there are wolves in the nearby darkness. The hair on their necks stands up, they bare their teeth, they quiver.
We came to a place where the trees ended and we dismounted, tied the horses, and went to the wood's edge and just watched. And at last we saw them.
Thirty or forty Danes were on the valley's farther side, above the woods, and they had plainly ridden to the top of the hills, looked southwards, and were now coming back. They were scattered in a long line that was riding down into the woods. 'Scouting party,' Pyrlig said.
'They can't have seen much from that hilltop.'
'They saw us,' he said.
'I think so.'
'But they didn't attack us?' He was puzzled. 'Why not?’
'Look at me,' I said.
'I get a treat every day.'
'They thought I was a Dane,' I said. I was not in mail and had no helmet, so my long hair fell free down my leather-clad back and my arms were bright with rings. 'And they probably thought you were my performing bear,' I added.
He laughed. 'So shall we follow them?'
The only risk was crossing the valley, but if the enemy saw us they would probably still assume I was a fellow Dane, so we cantered over the open ground, then rode up into the further woods. We heard the Danes before we saw them. They were careless, talking and laughing, unaware that any Saxons were close. Pyrlig tucked his crucifix beneath his leather coat, then we waited until we were sure the last of the Danes had passed before kicking the horses uphill to find their tracks and so follow them. The shadows were lengthening, and that made me think that the Danish army must be close for the scouting party would want to reach safety before dark, but as the hilly country flattened we saw that they had no intention of joining Guthrum's forces that evening. The patrolling Danes had their own camp, and as we approached it we were nearly caught by another group of mounted scouts who rode in from the east. We heard the newcomers and swerved aside into a thicket and watched a dozen men ride by, and then we dismounted and crept through the trees to see how many enemy were in the camp.
There were perhaps a hundred and fifty Danes in a small pasture. The first fires were being lit, suggesting they planned to spend the night where they were.
'All scouting parties,' Pyrlig suggested.
'Confident bastards,' I said.
These men had been sent ahead to explore the hills, and they felt safe to camp in the open countryside, sure that no Saxon would attack them. And they were right. The West Saxon army was a long way south and we had no warband in the area, and so the Danes would have a quiet night and, in the morning, their scouts would ride again to watch Alfred's movements.
'But if they're here,' Pyrlig suggested, 'then it means Guthrum is following them.'
'Maybe,' I said. Or perhaps Guthrum was marching well to the east or west and had sent these men to make sure that Alfred was ignorant of his movements.
'We should go back,' Pyrlig said. 'Be dark soon.'
But I had heard voices and I held up a hand to silence him, and then went to my right, keeping to the places where the undergrowth was thickest, and heart what I thought I had heard. English.
'They've got Saxons here,' I said.
'Wulfhere's men?'
Which made sense. We were in Wiltunscir and Wulfhere's men would know this country, and who better to guide the Danes as they watched Alfred?
The Saxons were coming into the wood and we stayed behind some hawthorn bushes until we heard the sound of axes. They were cutting firewood. There seemed to be about a dozen of them. Most of the men who followed Wulfhere would probably be reluctant to fight Alfred, but some would have embraced their Ealdorman's new cause and doubtless those were the men who had been despatched to guide the Danish scouting parties. Wulfhere would only have sent men he could trust, fearing that less loyal men would desert to Alfred or just run away, so these Saxons were probably from the Ealdorman's household troops, the warriors who would profit most from being on the winner's side in the war between the Danes and the West Saxons.
'We should get hack to Alfred before it's dark,' Pyrlig whispered.
