‘Jesus,’ Rumwald breathed.

‘The horse is yours,’ I told Brihtwulf, ‘you’re Lord Ealhstan, so mount up. Gerbruht!’

‘Lord?’

‘Drag that thing into an alley.’ I nudged Edor’s corpse with my foot.

‘No one saw a thing!’ Rumwald said in amazement.

‘Of course they did,’ I said, ‘they just don’t want us to know they saw us.’ I looked along the windows of the street and could see no one, but I was certain folk were watching us. ‘Just pray they don’t send word to Æthelhelm.’ I turned. ‘Oswi!’

‘Lord?’

‘Take us to the nearest gate to the north, and I want to avoid the palace.’

‘The Crepelgate, lord,’ Oswi said, then led us confidently, taking us through a maze of small streets and alleys. The Roman buildings gave way to newer houses, all made of timber with thatched roofs, then those houses ended and we were at the top of the city’s low eastern hill, and in front of us was a wasteland of ruins, hazel saplings, and weeds. I could see the palace a long way to the west, close to it were the remnants of the amphitheatre and, beyond that ruin, the fort at the city’s north-western corner.

And in front of us were the walls.

They are extraordinary, those walls. They ring the whole city, are built of dressed stone, and are three times the height of a tall man. Towers are built every two or three hundred paces, and the seven gates are flanked by great stone bastions. The walls have stood for three or four hundred years, perhaps longer, and for most of their length the ramparts still stand as the Romans built them. Some gaps have appeared across the years, and many of the towers have lost their roofs, but the gaps have been plugged with great timbers and the roofs replaced with thatch. There are stone stairs leading up to the ramparts and, where the wall has fallen into the ditch and been repaired in timber, there are wooden fighting platforms. Lundene’s wall is a marvel, making me wonder, as so often, how the Romans had ever lost Britain.

And in front of us, too, were men. Hundreds of men. Most were on the ramparts, from where they gazed northwards, but some, too many, were behind the gate. From where we stood we could only see one gate, the Crepelgate, with its two massive bastions looming over the roadway and Æthelhelm’s banner flying from the nearest tower, while beneath it, amidst tall weeds and the rubble of old walls, were troops. I could not see how many, they were sitting on crumbling walls or resting, but I could see enough to know they were too many. ‘They expect Æthelstan to attack here?’ Brihtwulf asked.

‘They probably have forces waiting inside each gate,’ I said. ‘How many can you see?’ Brihtwulf, high in his saddle, could see more than us.

‘Two hundred?’

‘We outnumber them!’ Rumwald said excitedly.

‘And how many on the gate ramparts?’ I asked, ignoring Rumwald.