“Where did it come from?” I shouted in Gersine’s ear.

He shook his head.

“I didn’t see. By God it hurts!”

Drosten was at the rear of the boat and with relief I saw his tattooed face turn in our direction. With the instincts of a natural warrior and a man who had been on the run for years, he understood what had happened instantly. He touched Hereward’s shoulder and they conversed in short shouts. Drosten pointed at me and Gersine. Hereward nodded. As if to punctuate what they were talking about an arrow struck Gullbringa’s top strake, between the two of them. Lesser men might have ducked down, but both Drosten and Hereward calmly turned to look in the direction from which the arrow had flown. I followed their gaze and was rewarded by seeing movement in the trees. There were at least three men there.

“Don’t attempt to remove the arrow,” I said.

Gersine looked up at me as if I was mad to suggest such a thing.

“Leofstan will know what to do. Stay there.”

Without waiting for a response, I pushed myself to my feet and sprinted up the hill towards the men in the trees.

The world was filled with the roar of the cataract and the rush of blood in my ears. I was glad my byrnie yet rested inside the boat. Running uphill was hard enough without being further burdened. But as an arrow flashed by my face, I realised how exposed I was with neither armour nor shield. I lowered my head and powered on. I would be on them soon. I chose not to think about what would happen then.

Sensing movement to my left, I turned to see Gwawrddur close behind me. He grinned wolfishly, drawing his sword as he ran. With the Welsh swordsman at my side, my confidence grew and I let out a roar of defiance, tugging my own simple blade from its scabbard.

Another white-feathered arrow streaked towards me. Without thinking I dodged to the right and I felt the breath of it against my cheek. And then I was on them. There were six enemies I saw now, but there was no time for fear or trepidation.