‘Scratched, lord.’

‘Then shut your mouth!’

Some of the West Saxons had escaped, but most were our prisoners now, including the young man who had evidently been their leader. Berg was still holding him on the road with the sword at his throat. ‘Let him up,’ I said. I saw that the women were safe, some fifty paces down the road from where they now watched us. ‘What’s your name,’ I demanded of the young man.

He hesitated, unwilling to answer, but a twitch of Serpent-Breath changed his mind. ‘Herewulf,’ he muttered, staring down at his fallen blade.

I leaned down from the saddle and forced his head up with Serpent-Breath’s tip. ‘Do you know who I am?’ He shook his head. ‘I am Uhtred of Bebbanburg,’ I said and saw the fear in his eyes, ‘and you call me lord. So what were your orders, Herewulf?’

‘To keep the Lady Eadgifu safe, lord.’

‘Where?’

‘Cippanhamm, lord,’ he said sullenly.

Cippanhamm was a fine town in Wiltunscir and doubtless Herewulf had thought to take the women and children up the Temes, through Lundene, and so to Æthelhelm’s shire. ‘Any news of the king?’ I asked him.

‘He’s still sick, lord,’ he said. ‘That’s all we know.’

‘Take off his mail,’ I ordered Berg. ‘You’re lucky,’ I spoke to Herewulf, ‘because I might leave you alive. Might.’ He just stared at me. ‘What’s happening in Fæfresham?’ I asked.

For a moment he was tempted to be defiant, but I touched Serpent-Breath to his cheek and that loosened his tongue. ‘They’re talking,’ he said reluctantly.

‘Talking?’

‘To the east of the town.’

That made sense. Sigulf had brought warriors to his sister’s aid only to discover a force equal to his own guarding her. If they fought then men would die and others would be wounded in an uncertain battle. Sigulf was being prudent, hoping to talk his sister out of her enemy’s grip, but that enemy had been clever. Under the cloak of talking they had spirited her out of the convent and sent her north towards their ships. The risk they were taking was that Edward might recover and punish them, but better his anger than an heir to the throne safely out of Æthelhelm’s grasp. ‘You were sent to keep the Lady Eadgifu safe?’ I asked the prisoner.

‘I told you so,’ Herewulf was recovering his defiance.

‘Then tell Lord Æthelhelm that I’ll do that job for him.’

‘When Ælfweard is king,’ Herewulf responded, ‘Lord Æthelhelm will take your fortress and feed your carcass to the pigs.’

‘His father tried,’ I said, sheathing Serpent-Breath, ‘and he’s worm-food now. Be grateful I’ve let you live.’

We took the mail from all the prisoners, took their weapons and their horses, then left them on the road where one stallion lay dead, its blood darkening the mud. Two men had been killed, though a dozen others of Æthelhelm’s men were bleeding, as was Oswi, though he claimed he could hardly feel the wound. I kicked my horse to where the Lady Eadgifu waited. ‘We have to move, my lady,’ I said. ‘They’ll pursue us soon and we need to get to the ship.’