Death of Kings_ A Novel - Bernard Cornwell [142]
‘Find Sigelf’s banner, have a man raise it next to mine.’
There were plenty of Centish horses tethered in the woods behind our position. Oswi brought me one, ready saddled, and I hauled myself up and kicked the animal towards Sigebriht who had stopped some fifty or sixty paces away. He and his standard-bearer were with five other men, none of whom I knew. I did not want the men of Cent responding to that bull’s head flag, but luckily the rain made it hang damp and forlorn.
I curbed the horse close to Sigebriht. ‘You want to make a name for yourself, boy?’ I challenged him. ‘Kill me now.’
He looked past me to where his father’s troops were readying for battle. ‘Where’s my father?’ he asked.
‘Dead,’ I said, and drew Serpent-Breath. ‘This killed him.’
‘Then I’m ealdorman,’ he said, and he took a deep breath and I knew he was going to shout at his father’s men to demand their loyalty, but before he could speak I had kicked the borrowed horse forward and brought the blade up.
‘Talk to me, boy,’ I said, holding Serpent-Breath close to his face, ‘not to them.’
Finan had joined me and five more of my men were just paces away now.
Sigebriht was frightened, but forced himself to look brave. ‘You’ll all die,’ he said.
‘Probably,’ I agreed, ‘but we’ll take you with us.’
His horse backed away and I let it take him out of reach of my sword. I looked past him and saw contingents of Danes crossing the bridge. Why had they waited? If they had crossed the previous evening they could have joined Sigelf and been marching south by now, but something had held them back. Then I remembered those mysterious fires burning in the night, the three great blazes of burning halls or fiery villages. Had someone attacked the Danish rear? It was the only explanation for the Danish delay, but who? Yet the Danes were crossing the river now, hundreds of them, thousands, and streaming over the bridge with them were Æthelwold’s men and Beortsig’s Mercians, and I reckoned the enemy army outnumbered us by at least eight to one.
‘I give you three choices, puppy,’ I spoke to Sigebriht. ‘You can join us and fight for your rightful king, or you can fight against me, you and me, right here, or you can run away to your Danish masters.’
He looked at me, but found it difficult to hold my gaze. ‘I’ll feed your carcass to the dogs,’ he said, trying to sound scornful.
I just stared at him and he finally turned away. He and his men rode back to the Danes and I watched him go, and only when he had vanished among the enemy’s thickening ranks did I turn the horse and walk it back to our shield wall. ‘Men of Cent!’ I curbed the horse in front of them. ‘Your ealdorman was a traitor to his country and to his god! The Danes promised to make him king, but when have the Danes ever kept a promise? They wanted you to fight for them, and when you had done their work they planned to take your wives and your daughters for their pleasure! They promised Æthelwold the throne of Wessex, but do any of you think he would keep the throne longer than a month? The Danes want Wessex! They want Cent! They want our fields, they want our women, they want our cattle, they want our children! And tonight they treacherously attacked you! Why? Because they decided they didn’t need you! They have enough men without you so they decided to kill you!’
Much of what I had told them was true. I looked along the Centish ranks, along the shields and spears and axes and swords. I saw anxious faces, scared faces. ‘I am Uhtred of Bebbanburg,’ I shouted, ‘and you know who I am and who I have killed. You’ll fight alongside me now, and all we need do is hold this treacherous enemy at bay until our king reaches us. He’s coming!’ I hoped that was true, because if it was not then this day would be my death-day. ‘He’s close,’ I shouted, ‘and when he reaches us we will slaughter those Danes like wolves ravaging lambs. You!’ I pointed at a priest. ‘Why are we fighting?’
‘For the cross, lord,’ he said.
‘Louder!’
‘For the cross!