My accent had told him that. ‘I am from Northumbria.’

‘A Northumbrian is a friend of the king?’ he asked scornfully.

‘As I was also a friend to the Lady Æthelflaed.’

That name gave him pause. He stared at us in the fast fading light and I saw him look down at the hammer amulet hanging from my neck. ‘A Northumbrian pagan,’ he said slowly, ‘who was a friend to the Lady Æthelflaed.’ He looked back to my face as he lowered the sword. ‘You’re Uhtred of Bebbanburg!’ He spoke in a tone of amazement.

‘I am.’

‘Then you are welcome, lord.’ He sheathed his sword, gestured for his companions to lower their bows, then took a few paces towards us, stopping just a sword’s length away. ‘My name is Rædwalh Rædwalhson.’

‘You’re well met,’ I said fervently.

‘I fought at Fearnhamme, lord.’

‘A bad fight that,’ I responded.

‘We won, lord! You won!’ He smiled. ‘You are indeed welcome!’

‘I might not be so welcome if you know that we’re being pursued.’

‘By those bastards who captured Lundene?’

‘They will come,’ I said, ‘and if they find us here they’ll punish you.’

‘East Anglians!’ Rædwalh said angrily. ‘They’ve already sent men to raid our storehouses and steal cattle.’

‘We have food,’ I said, ‘but we need ale and a place to rest. Not in your hall, I can’t endanger your household.’

He thought for a moment. An elderly woman, I assumed she was his wife, came to the door and watched us. The first bats were leaving the barn, dark against the sky in which the first stars were showing. ‘There’s a place a short mile south of here,’ Rædwalh said, ‘and you can rest there safe enough.’ He looked past me at the motley collection of slaves, children, and warriors. ‘But you lead a mighty strange army, lord,’ he went on, amused, ‘so what in God’s name are you doing?’

‘You have time for a story?’

‘Don’t we always, lord?

It had been the mention of Æthelflaed that had unlocked Rædwalh’s generosity. The Mercians had loved her, admired her, and now mourned her. It was Æthelflaed who had driven the Danes from Mercia, who had endowed churches, monasteries and convents, and who had built the burhs that defended the northern frontier. She was the Lady of Mercia, a ruler who had fiercely defended Mercia’s pride and Mercia’s wealth, and all Mercians knew I had been her friend and a few even suspected I had been her lover. Rædwalh talked of her as he led us south around the flank of a wooded hill, then listened as I told him of our escape from Lundene. ‘If the bastards come looking for you,’ he assured me, ‘I won’t say a word. Nor will any of my people. We’ve no love for East Anglians.’

‘The man leading the search,’ I said, ‘is a West Saxon.’

‘We haven’t much love for them either! Don’t worry, lord, none of us have seen you.’