your head and I was wickedly proud of myself, and pride is a terrible thing.'
'It's a warrior's weapon,' I said.
'It is indeed,' he agreed, 'and that is why it is a terrible thing, and why I pray God purges me of it.'
We were well ahead of the priests now, climbing towards the nearest hilltop to look north and east for the enemy, but the churchmen's voices followed us, their chant strong in the morning air.
''Through God we shall do bravely,'' Father Pyrlig interpreted for me, ''and God shall trample down our enemies'. Now there's a blessed thought for a fine morning, Lord Uhtred!'
'The Danes are saying their own prayers, father.'
'But to what god, eh? No point in shouting at a deaf man, is there?' He curbed his horse at the hilltop and stared northwards. 'Not even a mouse stirring.'
'The Danes are watching,' I said, 'we can't see them, but they can see us.'
If they were watching then what they could see was Alfred's three hundred and fifty men riding or walking away from the swamp, and in the distance another five or six hundred men who were the fyrd from the western part of Sumorsaete who had camped to the south of the swamp and now marched to join our smaller column. Most of the men from ?thelingaeg were real soldiers, trained to stand in the shield wall, but we also had fifty of the marsh men. I had wanted Eofer, the strong bowman, to come with us, but he could not fight without his niece telling him what to do and I had no intention of taking a child to war and so we had left Eofer behind. A good number of women and children were following the column, though Alfred had sent ?lswith and his children south to Scireburnan under a guard of forty men. We could hardly spare those men, but Alfred insisted his family go. ?lswith was to wait in Scireburnan and, if news came that her husband was defeated and the Danes victorious, she was to flee south to the coast and find a ship that would take her to Frankia. She was also instructed to take with her whatever books she could find in Scireburnan, for Alfred reckoned the Danes would burn every book in Wessex and so ?1swith was to rescue the gospel books and saints' lives and church fathers and histories and philosophers and thus raise her son Edward to become a learned king in exile.
Iseult was with the army, walking with Hild and with Eanflaed who had upset ?lswith by insisting on following Leofric. The women led packhorses which carried the army's shields, food and spare spears. Nearly every woman was equipped with some kind of weapon. Even Hild, a nun, wanted to take revenge on the Danes who had whored her and so carried a long, narrow-bladed knife.
'God help the Danes,' Father Pyrlig had said when he saw the women gather, 'if that lot get among them.'
He and I now trotted eastwards. I had horsemen ringing the column, riding on every crest, staying in sight of each other, and ready to signal if they saw any sign of the enemy, but there was none. We rode or marched under a spring sky, through a land bright with flowers, and the priests and monks kept up their chanting, and sometimes the men behind, who followed Alfred's two standard-bearers, would start singing a battle song.
Father Pyrlig beat his hand in time to the singing, then gave me a big grin. 'I expect Iseult sings to you, doesn't she?'
'She does.'
'We Britons love to sing! I must teach her some hymns.' He saw my sour look and laughed. 'Don't worry, Uhtred, she's no Christian.'
'She isn't?' I asked, surprised.
'Well, she is, for the moment. I'm sorry you didn't come to her baptism. It was cold, that water! Fair froze me!'
'She's baptised,' I said, 'but you say she's no Christian?'
'She is and she isn't,' Pyrlig said with a grin. 'She is now, see, because she's among Christians. But she's still a shadow queen, and she won't forget it.'
'You believe in shadow queens?'
'Of course I do! Good God, man! She is one!' He made the sign of the cross.
'Brother Asser called her a witch,' I said, 'a sorceress.'
'Well he would, wouldn't he? He's a monk! Monks don't marry. He's terrified of women, Brother Asser, unless they're very ugly and then he bullies them. But show him a pretty young thing and he goes all addled. And of course he hates the power of women.'
'Power?'
'Not just tits, I mean. God knows tits are powerful enough, but the real thing. Power! My mother had it. She was no shadow queen, mind you, but she was a healer and a scryer.'
'She saw the future?'
He shook his head. 'She knew what was happening far off. When my father died she suddenly screamed. Screamed fit to kill herself because she knew what had happened. She was right, too. The poor man was cut down by a Saxon. But she was best as a healer. Folk came to her from miles around.
It didn't matter that she was born a Saxon, they'd walk for a week to fetch the touch of her hand. Me? I got it for free! She banged me about, she did, and I dare say I deserved it, but she was a rare healer.
And, of course, the priests don't like that.'
'Why not?'
'Because we priests tell folk that all power comes from God, and if it doesn't come from God then it must be evil, see? So when folk are ill the church wants them to pray and to give the priests money.
Priests don't like it when they don't understand things, and they don't like folk going to the women to be healed. But what else are folk to do? My mother's hand, God rest her Saxon soul, was better than any prayer! Better than the touch of the sacraments! I wouldn't stop folk going to see a healer. I'd tell them to!'
He stopped talking because I raised my hand. I had seen movement on a hillside to the north, but it was only a deer. I dropped my hand and kicked the horse on.
