while the rest planned to ride either south or west in the morning.
'Keep the bastards on the run, eh?' the man said, then frowned at Leofric. 'He doesn't say much.'
'He's dumb,' I said.
'I knew a man who had a dumb wife. He was ever so happy.'
He looked jealously at my arm rings. 'So who do you serve?'
'Svein of the White Horse.'
'Svein? He wasn't at Readingum. Or at Werham.'
'He was in Dyflin,' I said, 'but I was with Ragnar the Older then.'
'Ah, Ragnar! Poor bastard.'
'I suppose his son's dead now?' I asked.
'What else?' the man said. 'Hostages, poor bastards.' He thought for a heartbeat then frowned again. 'What's Svein doing here? I thought he was coming by ship?'
'He is,' I said. 'We're just here to talk to Guthrum.'
'Svein sends a dumb man to talk to Guthrum?'
'He sent me to talk,' I said, 'and sent him,' I jerked a thumb at the glowering Leofric, 'to kill people who ask too many questions.'
'All right, all right!’ The man held up a hand to ward off my belligerence.
We slept in the stable loft, warmed by straw, and we left before dawn, and at that moment fifty West Saxons could have retaken Cippanhamm for the Danes were drunk, sleeping, and oblivious to the world. Leofric stole a sword, axe and shield from a man snoring in the tavern, then we walked unchallenged out of the western gate. In a field outside we found over a hundred horses, guarded by two men sleeping in a thatched hut, and we could have taken all the beasts, but we had no saddles or bridles and so, reluctantly, I knew we must walk. There were four of us now, because Eanflaed had decided to come with us. She had swathed Iseult in two big cloaks, but the British girl was still shivering.
We walked west and south along a road that twisted through small hills. We were heading for Babum, and from there I could strike south towards Defnascir and my son, but it was clear the Danes were already ahead of us. Some must have ridden this way the previous day for in the first village we reached there were no cocks crowing, no sound at all, and what I had taken for a morning mist was smoke from burned cottages. Heavier smoke showed ahead, suggesting the Danes might already have reached Babum, a town they knew well for they had negotiated one of their truces there. Then, that afternoon, a horde of mounted Danes appeared on the road behind us and we were driven west into the hills to find a hiding place.
We wandered for a week. We found shelter in hovels. Some were deserted while others still had frightened folk, but every short winter's day was smeared with smoke as the Danes ravaged Wessex.
One day we discovered a cow, trapped in its byre in an otherwise deserted homestead. The cow was with calf and bellowing with hunger, and that night we feasted on fresh meat. Next day we could not move for it was bitterly cold and a slanting rain slashed on an east wind and the trees thrashed as if in agony and the building that gave us shelter leaked and the fire choked us and Iseult just sat, eyes wide and empty, staring into the small flames.
'You want to go back to Cornwalum?' I asked her.
She seemed surprised I had spoken. It took her a few heartbeats to gather her thoughts, then she shrugged. 'What is there for me?'
'Home,' Eanflaed said.
'Uhtred is home for me.'
'Uhtred is married,' Eanflaed said harshly.
Iseult ignored that. 'Uhtred will lead men,' she said, rocking back and forth, 'hundreds of men. A bright horde. I want to see that.'
'He'll lead you into temptation, that's all he'll do,' Eanflaed said. 'Go home, girl, say your prayers and hope the Danes don't come.'
We kept trying to go southwards and we made some small progress every day, but the bitter days were short and the Danes seemed to be everywhere. Even when we travelled across countryside far from any track or path, there would be a patrol of Danes in the distance, and to avoid them we were constantly driven west. To our east was the Roman road that ran from Babum and eventually to Exanceaster, the main thoroughfare in this part of Wessex, and I supposed the Danes were using it and sending patrols out to either side of the road, and it was those patrols that drove us ever nearer the Saefern Sea, but there could be no safety there, for Svein would surely have come from Wales.
I also supposed that Wessex had finally fallen. We met a few folk, fugitives from their villages and hiding in the woods, but none had any news, only rumour. No one had seen any West Saxon soldiers, no one had heard about Alfred, they only saw Danes and the ever-present smoke. From time to time we would come across a ravaged village or a burned church. We would see ragged ravens flapping black and follow them to find rotting bodies. We were lost and any hope I had of reaching Oxton was long gone, and I assumed Mildrith had fled west into the hills as the folk around the Uisc always did when the Danes came. I hoped she was alive, 1 hoped my son lived, but what future he had was as dark as the long winter nights.
'Maybe we should make our peace,' I suggested to Leofric one night. We were in a shepherd's hut, crouched around a small fire that filled the low turf-roofed building with smoke. We had roasted a dozen mutton ribs cut from a sheep's half-eaten corpse. We were all filthy, damp and cold. 'Maybe we should find the Danes,' I said, 'and swear allegiance.'
'And be made slaves?' Leofric answered bitterly.
'We'll be warriors,' I said.
'Fighting for a Dane?' He poked the fire, throwing up a new burst of smoke. 'They can't have taken all
