Ivar crept over to Erkanwulf, but because of the slickness of the mud and the angle of the ground and the thick tangle of branches and leaves, he couldn’t budge the horse. The poor animal was dead, killed instantly.

The gale roared past and faded, although the treetops still shook and danced. It was no beast after all, merely an unnatural blast of wind. The rain eased a little.

‘Ah!” Erkanwulf managed something like a grin; his face was a smudge against the darkness. “It hurts!”

“Damn. Damn.” It seemed everyone he traveled with ended up in worse trouble after knowing him!

“I should have known better,” continued Erkanwulf through gritted teeth. “I had a cousin who was killed by a falling branch in a windstorm. Ah! Eh! Leave it be a moment!”

Ivar got to his feet and wiped moisture from his brow, trying to clear his sight. His hair was soaked. His leggings sagged and slid as the strips of cloth loosened, and his boots made a stropping sucking sound with each step as he came around the tree and peered into the darkness.

The lights were strung out not twenty paces from him. He shrieked because he was so surprised, and pressed the ring Baldwin had gifted him to his lips, praying.

“Who are you?” called a voice out of the night. It spoke Wendish.

“I’m just a messenger. No one who means any harm. My companion is hurt. I think his horse is dead. I can’t shift it off him. I pray you. Help us. Or leave us alone.”

The lights circled in like wary dogs and resolved into lanterns cunningly protected from the rain by caps of bronze and walls of a bubbly glass that made the flame within dance in weird distortions. Hooded figures carried the lanterns. There were four of them, whether men or shades he could not tell because they wore cloaks drawn tightly around their bodies. Most strangely, they were all barefoot.

“Have you any weapons?” their leader asked. “Throw them down, if you please. We don’t mean to hurt you. We’re not bandits, not like those we’re hunting.”

“I can’t fight one against four!”

“If you won’t throw down your weapons, we’ll leave you here in peace, but we won’t help your companion.” There was a pause as the one who spoke raised his lantern higher to get a look at Erkanwulf and the two horses, one down, one holding still with head up and eyes rolling white. Erkanwulf had either fainted or was playing at it. “Good mounts. Pity about that one, but if it’s dead or broke a leg, it’ll make a good stew.”

“Who are you?” Ivar didn’t dare surrender his precious weapons to bandits.

“We’re King Henry’s men. We got a charter some years back to keep this road through the Bretwald free and clear. He made us free of service to any lord or lady. We’ve kept our word to him. That’s why we were hunting bandits. There was a problem a month back. Honest folk got attacked. It’s not a good time to travel.”