Death of Kings_ A Novel - Bernard Cornwell [136]
‘Why didn’t we?’
‘Because Edward was frightened of losing Lundene,’ I said, ‘and he was waiting for your father.’
‘He needs us,’ Sigebriht said with evident satisfaction.
‘What he needed,’ I said, ‘was an assurance of Cent’s loyalty.’
‘He doesn’t trust us?’ Sigebriht asked disingenuously.
‘Why should he?’ I asked savagely. ‘You supported Æthelwold and sent messengers to Sigurd. Of course he didn’t trust you.’
‘I submitted to Edward, lord,’ Sigebriht said humbly. He glanced at me and decided he needed to say more. ‘I admit all you say, lord, but there is a madness in youth, is there not?’
‘Madness?’
‘My father says young men are bewitched to madness.’ He fell silent a moment. ‘I loved Ecgwynn,’ he said wistfully. ‘Did you ever meet her?’
‘No.’
‘She was small, lord, like an elf, and as beautiful as the dawn. She could turn a man’s blood to fire.’
‘Madness,’ I said.
‘But she chose Edward,’ he said, ‘and it maddened me.’
‘And now?’ I asked.
‘The heart mends,’ he said feelingly, ‘it leaves a scar, but I’m not foolish-mad. Edward is king and he’s been good to me.’
‘And there are other women,’ I said.
‘Thank God, yes,’ he said and laughed again.
I liked him at that moment. I had never trusted him, but he was surely right that there are women who drive us to madness and to foolishness, and the heart does mend, even if the scar remains, and then we ended the conversation because Finan was galloping towards us and the river was before us and the Danes were in sight.
The Use was wide here. The clouds had slowly covered the windless sky so that the river was grey and flat. A dozen swans moved slow on the slow-moving water. It seemed to me that the world was still, even the Danes were quiet and they were there in their hundreds, their thousands, their banners bright beneath the darkening cloud. ‘How many?’ I asked Finan.
‘Too many, lord,’ he said, an answer I deserved because it was impossible to count the enemy who were hidden by the houses of the small town. More were spread along the river banks either side of the town. I could see Sigurd’s flying raven banner on the higher ground at the town’s centre, and Cnut’s flag of the axe and broken cross at the far side of the bridge. There were Saxons there too, because Beortsig’s symbol of the boar was displayed alongside Æthelwold’s stag. Downriver of the bridge was a fleet of Danish ships moored thick along the farther bank, but only seven had been dismasted and brought beneath the bridge, which suggested the Danes had no thought of using their boats to advance upriver to Eanulfsbirig.
‘So why aren’t they attacking?’ I asked.
None had crossed the bridge, which, of course, had been made by the Romans. I sometimes think that if the Romans had never invaded Britain we would never have managed to cross a river. On the southern bank, close to where we stood our horses, was a dilapidated Roman house and a huddle of thatched cottages. It would have been a fine place for the Danish vanguard, but for some reason they seemed content to wait on the far northern bank.
It began to rain. It was a thin, sharp rain, and it brought a gust of wind that rippled the river about the swans. The sun was low in the west, the sky there still free of cloud, so that it seemed to me that the land across the river and the bright-shielded Danes glowed in a world of grey shadow. I could see a smoke plume much farther north, and that was strange because whatever burned was in Eohric’s territory and we had no men that far north. Perhaps, I thought, it was just a trick of the clouds or an accidental fire. ‘Does your father listen to you?’ I asked Sigebriht.
‘Yes, lord.’
‘Tell him we’ll send a messenger when he can begin to withdraw.’
‘Till then we stay?’
‘Unless the Danes attack, yes,’ I said, ‘and one other thing. Watch those bastards.’ I pointed to the Danes who were furthest west. ‘There’s a road that goes outside the river bend and if you see the enemy using that road, send us a message.’
He frowned in thought. ‘Because they might try to block our retreat?’
‘Exactly,’ I said, pleased