your hand on his head Brand,’ said Harold, then in a loud voice he proclaimed, ‘Let all here witness the bond of fealty between Brand Holgarsson, lord of Stybbor and the serf Elric. In return for the lord’s protection, let Elric serve faithfully and well. And should he break this sworn promise, let vengeance or other doom take him swift and hard. Do you swear Elric?’
‘There was a barely audible muttering from Elric, until Tostig half-pulled his sword from its scabbard, and Elric spoke up, ‘I swear!’
My hand was shrinking from contact against the lank, greasy hair, crawling with lice, and I foresaw that my own gear would soon be lousy if he came into contact with it – but there was no option other than to swear before Harold, Tostig and their men that I would honour Elric’s fealty with protection. Then I snatched my hand away and wiped it against my breeches – an action witnessed by Elric, and I was embarrassed by his challenging stare.
Harold had bid me cast off my Viking gear and had clad me in fine garments of similar look and weave to those worn by his warriors, although I kept the long boots, which fit me very well. Harold had also had my brother’s cloak repaired during the night, and I was delighted to see my family’s ill-fortune being restored, but saddened to be reminded of my brother’s untimely and treacherous death.
Suddenly I was overcome with the urgent desire to get to Lundene where my vengeance might be had. The company drew itself together for departure as the Lady Swanneshals came out to the top of the stairs to wave us off. Harold ran back up and knelt before her, took her hand and kissed it – and I noticed the hand was bandaged. In that moment I remembered biting a finger during the escape of the serfs, and a woman’s scream.
I stared at the bandage then looked up and saw her regarding me – knew that she was aware of my recognition – but then she smiled, and I suddenly felt like laughing, as though all treachery was just harmless jest.
∞ ∞ ∞
Malgard was furious.
News of the Viking attack on Stybbor had reached Lundene quickly via the fleece barges that plied from Gipeswic on the Arwan – only a day’s journey down the Temes – it would take three or four days to march.
The drunken barge captain, with whom he sat in one of the rat-infested inns that clustered about the cess-stinking wharf-side, had told him of the massacre, and also that further Danes had hunted fugitives in the wood and returned defeated – beaten by a witch according to the terrified raving of those that returned to the Danish camp at Stybbor.
Now the captain slumped forward with his head on the table as Malgard racked his brains. That Brand was alive was almost certain, he thought – so let’s say he is alive. Let’s also say that he knows of my part in the massacre. Malgard’s eyes turned black as he realised his peril should Brand bring word to Edward. And he will bring word to Edward, so let’s assume he is already coming.
Retracing in his mind his own journey by horse to Lundene along the ancient way, he recalled the large inn at the crossroads at the town of Breahinga. Anyone coming from Stybbor on their way to Lundene was all but certain to stop there – or at least be seen passing by.
Malgard drained his cup and rose from the table. It was time to visit an old friend.
Sleppa would know how to solve the problem.
∞ ∞ ∞
The going was easy for some time.
We marched through the town again, Harold and Tostig at the head of a column of warriors looking grim and purposeful, and there was none of the importuning of the day before, as if the townsfolk knew not to approach their lord in such a mood.
I marched behind Harold and Tostig with Valla and Carl, and behind us came the warriors in two lines, armed with axe, spear and sword. Several of them wore shirts of rings despite the expense, and I understood that these were elite troops – members of the household guard of the two greatest lords of the realm, after the king. Behind them straggled the servants and last of all creaked the wagon, loaded to the brim with food and war gear. Elric, due to his battered condition, was allowed to ride on the wagon, but I suspected it was also a measure to prevent his escape, should such occur to him.
Little did I realise, at the time, how much of the next few years would be spent in that way – marching with warriors, going to or from a battle. It had its horrors and its hardships, but also its joys, and if I am honest I am rarely so happy as when marching.
Certainly, on that blue morn, as we left behind the smoke and stench of Theodford Harold’s mood lifted and, as though sensing his lightness of heart, the men started singing as we marched through the winding lanes of East Anglia.
‘We should be riding!’ said Tostig.
‘Not this again,’ laughed Harold, and I understood they were continuing a long debate.
It is not just a means of transport,’ insisted Tostig. ‘The Frank lords go heavily armoured on horseback and fight above the heads of the fyrd.’
‘I will not command men to fight unless I stand with them,’ replied Harold. ‘And I will not imperil a beast in war because men choose to fight.’
‘A commander should know how the whole battle fares,’ said Tostig. ‘In the shield wall, we see only the foes before us but, from horseback, you can see where the shield wall is holding and where reserves are needed.’
‘I have trusted men … wise in battle along the line. Would you have me usurp their trust by calling all orders myself?’
‘All I’m saying,’ replied Tostig, ‘is that there are new ways of doing warfare. The Franks … and especially the Normans … use horses and ’tis said the shield wall cannot stand against them.’
‘Maybe not a Frankish shield wall,’ sneered Harold. ‘But in any case, we have no quarrel with the Normans, and if we did, they could hardly bring their war horses to Inglalond, could they?’
Tostig fell silent and Harold laughed.
‘And how would you use your sword atop a horse, brother? One swing of your blade and you’d have its head off! Horses are expensive!’
The sun grew warmer and we all began to sweat. Valla, struggling along in her green dress suddenly vanished into the forest.
‘Halt,’ called Tostig, raising his arm.
‘I’ll catch up,’ called Valla. ‘Don’t wait.’
‘I’ll wait for her,’ I said, and the brothers marched on with the column. As the wagon creaked past, I nodded at Elric who nodded in turn but his eyes passed over me to stare at Valla vanishing through the trees. Then he glanced back at me with a look of such insolent triumph I immediately knew something was wrong.
I turned and ran into the woods.
‘Valla!’ I shouted once, then knew further shouting would be pointless if she chose not to answer.
I ran some fifty yards into the forest but then stopped – stared about at the encircling trees and knew she was the better woodsman. If she wanted to leave, she could leave at any time. With heavy heart, I headed back to the road before I lost myself.
‘Why did you shout?’
I
