So yes, there was a chance, if a despairingly small chance, that a sudden lunge into the heart of Lundene would undo the damage made by Edward’s will. Yet I knew that the real reason I wanted to go back was because my enemy was there. The enemy who had humiliated me, the enemy who was doubtless boasting of his triumph over Uhtred of Bebbanburg, the enemy who held my sword.

I was going for revenge.

Finan was not with me that afternoon as we scraped and branded the shields. I had sent him with two of our men and a pair of Brihtwulf’s warriors to wait on the road to Lundene. I had told them to hide themselves beside that road and, just two miles south of Werlameceaster, they had found a spinney of blackthorn and hazel that offered them cover. They waited and did not return until the sun was low in the west, casting long shadows from Werlameceaster’s ramparts.

I was in the hall with Merewalh, Heorstan, and Brihtwulf. The two older men were nervous. Merewalh had accepted my plan after Father Oda’s fiery sermon, but now he was finding nothing but difficulties. The enemy was too strong, Lundene’s walls too high, and the chance of success too low. Heorstan agreed with him, but was less certain that we must fail. ‘The Lord Uhtred,’ he said, half bowing his head towards me, ‘has a reputation for winning. Perhaps we should trust him?’

Merewalh looked at me mournfully. ‘But if you’re defeated before I can bring my troops into the city?’ he asked hesitantly.

‘I die,’ I said curtly.

‘And Brihtwulf and his men die with you,’ Merewalh said unhappily, ‘and they are my responsibility too.’

‘We surprise the enemy,’ I said. ‘We’re planning a night attack when most are sleeping, just as they surprised us when they captured the city. We get inside and we open the gate to you and your men.’

‘If you assault the gate—’ Merewalh began.

‘We don’t assault the gate,’ I interrupted him. ‘They’ll think we’re East Anglian troops come to reinforce them.’

‘After dark?’ Merewalh was intent on finding problems and, if I was honest, there were many. ‘Men usually don’t travel after dark, lord. What if they refuse to open the gate?’

‘Then we wait till morning,’ I said. ‘In fact it might be even easier in daylight. We’ll have crosses on our shields. We just have to persuade them we’re East Anglians, not Mercians.’

It was at that moment that Finan came into the hall with one of Brihtwulf’s warriors. Both men looked hot and tired, but Finan was grinning. The four of us fell silent as the two men paced towards us. ‘Six men,’ Finan said as they reached us.

Merewalh looked puzzled, but I spoke before he could question Finan. ‘Did they see you?’ I asked.

‘They were riding too hard,’ Finan found a half-filled pot of ale on a table and drank, before offering it to his companion, ‘and they didn’t see a thing.’