Together, we make our way back to the main Mercian encampment. Wulfheard doesn’t ask who my allies are, nor do I ask how the offensive is going. There’ll be time for that. I turn and gaze at the formidable stone fort and grey walls every so often. Now I’ve been inside them, I’m seeing everything in an entirely new light. I don’t believe the fort is as impregnable as when I first saw it. Mind, it looks as though it should be. The giants who built it, if they were indeed giants, knew how to impress.
As we walk, I can hear Theodore and Gaya talking to one another in their soft tongue. Wulfheard glares at them more than once but seems content to leave them alone. He doesn’t ask me for any sort of explanation. I think he’s as relieved as I am not to have sliced open my neck, thinking me one of the Wessex warriors. I also think he’s happy I’ve returned in one piece. Perhaps.
It takes almost no time to reach the Mercian encampment. The bleached canvas of the tents appears grey and gloomy in the dim early-morning light, and there are men on guard duty, yawning. I imagine they’ve kept watch all through the long night. There’s the scent of horseshit and fires, and somewhere, someone is cooking something that mostly seems to consist of onions. Unless, of course, that’s the stench of the predominately male encampment, which it could be. Warriors don’t tend to worry about bathing when they’re fighting for their lives.
But one of the warriors on guard duty is alert. I recognise him as Oswy. He sneers, his pronounced nose seeming to meet his forehead as he eyes me. His swollen eye is now green, and he stands heavily on one leg. No doubt his wounds from the first battle have been tended to and are healing well, otherwise he wouldn’t be on guard duty.
‘Who the bloody hell are these two?’ Oswy demands, pointing to my two allies with his chin.
Theodore startles, pushing Gaya behind him in a move I think too well-practised to be the first time it’s happened.
‘They’re with Icel,’ Wulfheard says quickly, his voice booming in the stillness of a camp mostly asleep. ‘And so they’re coming in.’
‘They might be Wessex scum?’ Oswy retorts. He holds his spear menacingly as though desperate to skewer Theodore with it.
‘They don’t fully speak our tongue,’ I counter. ‘No one could speak to them other than their master, and that piece of horseshit is dead and lying cold.’ I put a great deal of emphasis on the fact that Theodore isn’t fluent in our language. I’m concerned about how we’ll talk to him. I know that Gaya knows some words, but I doubt enough to hold a conversation.
‘That doesn’t mean they haven’t come to harm our king or our cause.’ Oswy is belligerent.
I sense Wulfheard hesitate, expelling his argument without uttering it. Wulfheard doesn’t look at me. I think he’ll take the easier option of abandoning Theodore and Gaya here so that I can stand as surety for my two allies. That’s not what I want to do, especially not when Oswy looks as pissed as he does.
Again, I’m aware of Theodore speaking to his companion. Oswy listens, his gaze fixed on them, eyes narrowed. Their words are lyrical, almost bewitching in their soft lilt. Oswy hates it, and even Wulfheard’s shoulders are tense now.
‘Then I’m not entering the encampment either,’ I announce. ‘They aided me in my escape from the fort. I’ll not abandon them.’
Wulfheard sighs. ‘I’ll seek out Ealdorman Ælfstan,’ he concedes and forces his way past Oswy, who continues to leer at me. I want nothing more than to punch him in the face for making my return so awkward. I’m exhausted, almost beyond endurance.
I turn aside, slump to the ground to the far side of the small ditch and bank that the Mercians have laboured to create in my absence. It’s pitiful compared to the huge walls they face.
Theodore looks from me to Oswy and then to Wulfheard’s disappearing back and does the same. Gaya sits between the pair of us and, moodily, I stare out at Londonia. My thoughts centre on Tyrhtil and Brihtwold, but more Tyrhtil. I hope he’s survived whatever happened the day before. I hope Brihtwold wasn’t foolish enough to join the expedition, although his absence suggests he was.
The Mercian encampment is to the eastern side of the River Fleet, but as day breaks and the amount of light grows, I can see that Mercians are positioned to either side of the wood-and-stone bridge that straddles that river. Yet, the fact that the main encampment is on this side makes me believe their main focus is on the fort. I know it should be on the market settlement. I store the information away. When I manage to speak to Ealdorman Ælfstan or King Wiglaf, I’ll share with them all that I know.
I stifle a yawn. In the distance, on the western side of the River Fleet, I can see a dull glow close to the River Thames.
‘Tell me, Oswy.’ I lean back and look at the other man.
He glowers at me as he too stifles a yawn. ‘What?’ he demands. His eyes are like slits in the thin light of a new dawn.
‘Was there an attack on the market settlement, close to the river, yesterday?’
‘We weren’t involved in an attack, but there was an almighty fire,’ Oswy grudgingly admits. ‘A ship was burned as well. We could see it while it blackened and sank.’
‘Just the one ship?’ I clarify, my heart sinking at the news. I doubt Tyrhtil still lives. Although, well, two ships left the river gate. Maybe there’s a chance he does.
‘As far as we could tell from here,’ Oswy confirms. I can see he wants to ask more but refuses to do so.
I lapse into silence. Behind me, I can hear men and horses waking, going about their morning business. I shiver. Now I’ve stopped moving, the coldness of the dawn is starting to seep into me. I’d welcome a warm fire and something hot to eat. I imagine that Theodore and Gaya would as well. It’s hardly a fitting reward for the risk we took in escaping from the Wessex force.
‘Why do you ask?’ Oswy eventually concedes, startling me. I’ve started to nod, my eyes opening and closing, my chin resting on my chest.
‘Lord Æthelwulf believes the only way to reach his father in Lundenwic is to use the River Thames.’
‘What, so King Ecgberht isn’t inside the fort?’
‘No, just Lord Æthelwulf and Ealdorman Wassa.’
‘Bollocks,’ Oswy rumbles.
I want to ask him about his reaction, but there’s a commotion, and I jump to my feet on seeing Ealdorman Ælfstan, clearly roused from his bed, accompanying Wulfheard. Ealdorman Tidwulf is also a member of the small group, and that confuses me. Ealdorman Ælfstan has sleep-tussled hair. Ealdorman Tidwulf looks as though he’s just stepped from the king’s hall. His clothes aren’t wrinkled, and he even looks as though he’s found time to shave, his black skin shimmering with whatever ointment he’s thought to oil himself with.
‘So, boy, the gates of the fort aren’t exactly open to allow Mercia’s warriors inside,’ Ealdorman Ælfstan queries, although there’s no fury in his words. He looks surprised to see me and, I hope, also a little relieved.
‘No, my lord.’ I offer him a quick bow and then repeat what I’ve told Oswy. ‘King Ecgberht is inside the market settlement and cut off from his son and reinforcements.’
‘Is he now?’ Ælfstan demands, his eyes narrowing as he gazes between Londonia’s two halves in the near distance. I can almost see his thoughts.
I’m distracted by a heated discussion between Theodore and Ealdorman Tidwulf. Now I understand why Wulfheard thought to bring him along.
Theodore babbles, his hands gesticulating wildly, while Gaya interjects from time to time, her comments making Tidwulf grimace and shake his head, only occasionally nodding as well. Ealdorman Tidwulf asks many questions, and the conversation is long and complex. I listen to the lyrical words, marvelling that Tidwulf can understand them all. Slowly, and much to my surprise, a grin spreads over Tidwulf’s black face, his eyes alight with some knowledge he’s garnered from Theodore and Gaya.
In the end, I’m not the only one listening. Even Oswy, although he should have gone to his bed when relieved by a Mercian I don’t know, lingers. We’d all like to know what Tidwulf learns.
But he doesn’t tell us.
Instead, Tidwulf turns to me, a hint of a smirk on his face. ‘Well done, boy, well done.’ And he marches off into the campsite, Theodore and Gaya hurrying to keep up with him. Theodore looks at me as he rushes past but indicates nothing further. I find myself lifting my hand to acknowledge him, only to drop it back by my side when he doesn’t reciprocate. I allow a niggle of frustration. I brought Theodore and Gaya here. Am I to be entirely ignored?
‘Well,’ Wulfheard overrides my thoughts, ‘that solves that, then. I take it, Oswy, that Icel may now enter the interior of the camp?’
Oswy does me the courtesy of grimacing. I almost think he might apologise, but he doesn’t, instead following the retreating backs of Theodore, Gaya and the ealdorman.
‘Come on, lad. Let’s get you some food.’ Ealdorman Ælfstan breaks the silence. ‘And then you can tell me all about the Wessex forces.’
‘Of course,’ I begin.
‘But not until I’ve had a few quiet words with Wulfheard, here, for throwing you into the heart of our enemy encampment on his own initiative. It wasn’t well done.’
I open my mouth to defend Wulfheard, but Wulfheard fixes me with a stern gaze, the promise of laughter in the lines around his mouth.
‘We were training him up. We still are training him up,’ Wulfheard retorts to Ealdorman Ælfstan’s back. ‘I make no apology for that.’
Belatedly, I realise I’m all alone, apart from the Mercian who watches me with sleepy eyes.
‘Morning,’ I call to him, and with a final look at the imposing fort, and the more ramshackle arrangement of the trading settlement, I hurry after them all.
I hope to be allowed to eat and sleep, but I don’t get my wish. It feels as though I’ve only just closed my eyes inside one of the tents when Wulfheard wakes me once more. Ealdorman Ælfstan’s harsh words to Wulfheard for what he did to me were little more than a gentle scolding. I know Wulfheard would do it again without even considering the consequences. I vow there and then to never stand behind the tall man in battle again. I won’t take the chance.
‘Get up.’ His words aren’t friendly.
I’ve fallen asleep in Wulfheard’s tent, seemingly on his bed of furs. ‘Sorry,’ I begin. I struggle upright.
‘You needed to sleep. It doesn’t matter where that occurred,’ he rumbles at me. It appears he doesn’t mind. I stifle a yawn. ‘Anyway, it’ll do you good for when we leave tonight.’
‘Leave for where?’ I demand to know, entirely alert now.
‘You’ll lead us back inside the fort.’
‘What?’ I gasp.
‘You’ll lead a group of Mercians into the fort. We’ll take control of it and, if possible, Lord Æthelwulf and the warriors there.’
‘But King Ecgberht is inside the market settlement?’ What I’m being told doesn’t make sense to me.
‘King Ecgberht is the concern of Ealdorman Tidwulf and King Wiglaf. We’re going after Lord Æthelwulf.’
‘But I can’t be sure that we’ll even be able to get inside the way I escaped.’
‘Then you better hope that we can.’ Wulfheard is far from reassuring as he fixes me with his steady gaze. ‘King Wiglaf demands this of you. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was aggrieved you survived your ordeal. That man is an ungrateful sod.’
I gasp to hear Wulfheard criticise the king, yet I more than half agree with him.
‘What of the slaves I brought with me?’ I’ve not seen Theodore and Gaya since they left my side, following Ealdorman Tidwulf.
‘They’re Tidwulf’s now. He’s taken control of their destiny.’
‘They’re both healers,’ I state. This means something to me.
‘Ah, lad. Whatever they are, they’re valuable because of what they know. Don’t concern yourself with them.’ But that’s easy enough for Wulfheard to say. He doesn’t know them, and I do.
‘Is he at least ensuring they’re kept warm and given food?’
Wulfheard chuckles at the reproach in my voice. ‘They have better accommodation than you do and more than enough food. I wouldn’t worry about them. Ealdorman Tidwulf seems only too eager to have someone to speak of his homeland with.’
Grudgingly, I accept that might be pleasant for all three of them.
‘Who’s joining us?’ I demand to know.
‘You’ll see, in good time,’ and I understand that the warriors the ealdorman will command are not men who’ve taken kindly to me. I imagine that Oswy will be amongst their number. I can hardly wait.