Death of Kings_ A Novel - Bernard Cornwell [50]
‘Except for Sigunn,’ I said.
‘She’s a pretty thing,’ he said, offering me one of his half-toothed smiles. He had offered her shelter while she waited for me. She had no news from Buccingahamm, but I suspected the hall there, with its barns and storehouses, would be a smouldering ruin as soon as Sigurd returned from his foray to Ceaster.
Finan arrived two days later, grinning happily and full of news. ‘We led Sigurd a dance,’ he told me, ‘and danced him straight into the Welsh.’
‘And Haesten?’
‘God knows.’
Finan told how he and Merewalh had retreated southwards into the deep woods, and how Sigurd had followed them. ‘Jesus, he was eager. He sent horsemen after us on a dozen paths and we ambushed one group.’ He gave me a bag of silver, the spoils of the dead who had been cut down beneath the oaks. Sigurd, enraged, had become even less cautious and tried to encircle his elusive prey by sending men to the west and south, but all he had achieved was to stir up the Welsh who never need much stirring, and a band of wild Welsh warriors came from the hills to kill the Northmen. Sigurd had held the attackers off with his shield wall, then suddenly retreated northwards.
‘He must have heard about his ships,’ I said.
‘He’ll be an unhappy man,’ Finan said happily.
‘And I’m a poor one,’ I said. Buccingahamm was probably burned and there were no rents being paid. My men’s families were all in Lundene, and Tyr’s Daughter was sold for a pittance, and Æthelflaed was in no position to help. She was in Wintanceaster, close to her ailing father, and her husband was there too. She sent me a letter, but it was bland, even unfriendly, which made me suppose that she knew her correspondence was being read, but I had told her of my poverty and the letter suggested I go to one of her estates in the Temes valley. The steward there was a man who had fought alongside me at Beamfleot and he, at least, was pleased to see me. He had been crippled in that fight, though he could walk with a crutch and ride a horse well enough. He lent me money. Ludda stayed with me. I told him I would pay him for his services when I was wealthy again, and that he was free to go, but he wanted to stay. He was learning to use the sword and shield, and I was glad of his company. Two of my Frisians left, deciding that they could do better with another lord, and I let them go. I was in the same plight as Haesten, my men wondering whether they had sworn their oaths to the wrong man.
Then, as the summer waned, Sihtric returned.
Five
It was a summer of hunting and patrolling. Idle men are unhappy men and so I purchased horses with the silver I had borrowed and we rode north to explore the borders of Sigurd’s land. If Sigurd knew I was there he did not respond, perhaps fearing another trick like the one that had led his men into a pointless fight with the savage Welsh, but we were not looking for a fight. I did not have enough men to face Sigurd. I flaunted my banner, yet in truth it was all a bluff.
Haesten was still in Ceaster, though now that garrison was five times the size that it had been in the spring. The newcomers were not Haesten’s warriors, but oath-men of Sigurd and his ally Cnut Longsword, and they had come in sufficient numbers to guard the whole circuit of the old fort’s walls. They had hung their shields from the palisade and put their banners on the southern gatehouse. Sigurd’s badge of the flying raven was displayed next to Cnut’s flag, which showed an axe and a shattered cross. There was no flag for Haesten, which told me he had submitted to one of the two greater lords.
Merewalh reckoned there were now a thousand men in the fort. ‘They try and provoke us,’ he told me. ‘They want a fight.’
‘You’re not giving them one?’
He shook his head. He had only a hundred and fifty warriors and so he retreated whenever Ceaster’s garrison made a sally. ‘I’m not sure how long we can stay here,’ he admitted.
‘Have you asked Lord Æthelred for help?’
‘I asked,’ he said bleakly.
‘And?’
‘He says we should just watch them,’ Merewalh said, sounding disgusted.