murmur, and the Ealdorman was staring at me with wide astonished eyes.
‘Is that why you want us to surrender?’ I asked Ubba. ‘Because the runesticks tell you we cannot be killed in battle?’
‘I shall kill you,’ Ubba said. ‘I shall cut you from your crotch to your gullet. I shall spill you like offal.’
I made myself smile, though that was hard when Ubba was making threats. ‘You may try, Ubba Lothbrokson,’ I said, ‘but you will fail. And I know. I cast the runes, Ubba, I cast the runes under last night’s moon, and I know.’
He hated it, for he believed my lie. He wanted to be defiant, but for a moment he could only stare at me in fear because his own runesticks, I guessed, had told him what I was telling him, that any attack on Cynuit would end in failure. ‘You’re Ragnar’s boy,’ he said, placing me at last.
‘And Ragnar the Fearless speaks to me,’ I said, ‘he calls from the corpse-hall, he wants vengeance, Ubba, vengeance on the Danes, for Ragnar was killed treacherously by his own folk. I’m his messenger now, a thing from the corpse-hall, and I have come for you.’
‘I didn’t kill him!’ Ubba snarled.
‘Why should Ragnar care?’ I asked. ‘He just wants vengeance and to him one Danish life is as good as another, so cast your runes again and then offer us your sword. You are doomed, Ubba.’
‘And you’re a piece of weasel shit,’ he said and said no more, but just turned and hurried away.
Ealdorman Odda was still staring at me. ‘You know him?’ he asked.
‘I’ve known Ubba since I was ten years old,’ I said, watching the Danish chieftain walk away. I was thinking that if I had a choice, that if I could follow my warrior’s heart, I would rather fight alongside Ubba than against him, but the spinners had decreed otherwise. ‘Since I was ten,’ I went on, ‘and the one thing I know about Ubba is that he fears the gods. He’s terrified now. You can attack him and his heart will let him down because he thinks he will lose.’
‘Alfred will come,’ Odda said.
‘Alfred watches Guthrum,’ I said. I was not certain of that, of course. For all I knew Alfred could be watching us now from the hills, but I doubted he would leave Guthrum free to plunder Wessex. ‘He watches Guthrum,’ I said, ‘because Guthrum’s army is twice as large as Ubba’s. Even with his fleet half drowned, Guthrum has more men, and why would Alfred let them loose from Exanceaster? Alfred won’t come,’ I finished, ‘and we shall all die of thirst before Ubba attacks us.’
‘We have water,’ his son said sulkily, ‘and ale.’ He had been watching me resentfully, awed that I had spoken so familiarly with Ubba.
‘You have ale and water for a day,’ I said scornfully and saw from the Ealdorman’s expression that I was right.
Odda turned and stared south down the Pedredan’s valley. He was hoping to see Alfred’s troops, yearning for a glimpse of sunlight on spear heads, but of course there was nothing there except the trees stirring in the wind.
Odda the Younger sensed his father’s uncertainty. ‘We can wait for two days,’ he urged.
‘Death will be no better after two days,’ Odda said heavily. I admired him then. He had been hoping not to fight, hoping that his king would rescue him, but in his heart he knew I was right and knew that these Danes were his responsibility and that the men of Defnascir held England in their hands and must preserve it. ‘Dawn,’ he said, not looking at me. ‘We shall attack at dawn.’
We slept in war gear. Or rather men tried to sleep when they were wearing leather or mail, with sword belts buckled, helmets and weapons close, and we lit no fires for Odda did not want the enemy to see that we were readied for battle, but the enemy had fires, and our sentries could watch down the slopes and use the enemy’s light to look for infiltrators. None came. There was a waning moon sliding in and out of ragged clouds. The Danish fires ringed us, heaviest to the south by Cantucton where Ubba camped. More fires burned to the east, beside the Danish ships, the flames reflecting off the gilded beast-heads and painted dragon prows. Between us and the river was a meadow at the far side of which the Danes watched the hill, and beyond them was a wide stretch of marsh and at the marsh’s far side was a strip of firmer land beside the river where some hovels offered the Danish ship-guards shelter. The hovels had belonged to fishermen, long fled, and fires were lit between them. A handful of Danes paced the bank beside those fires, walking beneath the carved prows and I stood on the ramparts and gazed at those long, graceful ships and prayed that Wind-Viper still lived.
I could not sleep. I was thinking of shields and Danes and swords and fear. I was thinking of my child that I had never seen and of Ragnar the Fearless, wondering if he watched me from Valhalla. I was worrying that I would fail next day when, at last, I came to the life-gate of a shield wall, and I was not the only one denied sleep for, at the heart of the night, a man climbed the grassy rampart to stand beside me and I saw it was Ealdorman Odda. ‘How do you know Ubba?’ he asked.
‘I was captured by the Danes,’ I said, ‘and was raised by them. The Danes taught me to fight.’ I touched one of my arm rings. ‘Ubba gave me this one.’
‘You fought for him?’ Odda asked, not accusingly, but with curiosity.
‘I fought to survive,’ I said evasively.
He looked back to the moon-touched river. ‘When it comes to a fight,’ he said, ‘the Danes are no fools. They will be expecting an attack at dawn.’ I said nothing, wondering whether Odda’s fears were changing his mind. ‘And they outnumber us,’ he went on.
I still said nothing. Fear works on a man, and there is no fear like the prospect of confronting a shield wall. I was filled with fear that night, for I had never fought man to man in the clash of armies. I had been at Æsc’s Hill, and at the other battles of that far off summer, but I had not fought in the shield wall. Tomorrow, I thought, tomorrow, and like Odda I wanted to see Alfred’s army rescue us, but I knew there would be no rescue. ‘They outnumber us,’ Odda said again, ‘and some of my men have nothing but reaping hooks as weapons.’
‘A reaping hook can kill,’ I said, though it was a stupid thing to say. I would not want to face a Dane if I carried nothing but a reaping hook. ‘How many have proper weapons?’ I asked.
‘Half?’ he guessed.
‘Then those men are our front ranks,’ I said, ‘and the rest pick up weapons from the enemy dead.’ I had no idea what I was speaking of, but only knew I must sound confident. Fear might work on a man, but confidence fights against fear.
Odda paused again, gazing at the dark ships below. ‘Your wife and son are well,’ he said after a while.
‘Good.’
‘My son merely rescued her.’
‘And prayed I was dead,’ I said.
He shrugged. ‘Mildrith lived with us after her father’s death and my son became fond of her. He meant no harm and he gave none.’ He held a hand out to me and I saw, in the small moonlight, that he offered me a leather purse. ‘The rest of the bride price,’ he said.
‘Keep it, lord,’ I said, ‘and give it to me after the battle, and if I die, give it to Mildrith.’
An
