‘You burned their ships, lord.’

‘But I didn’t burn their fishing boats, did I?’ I cupped my hands and bellowed at the reeds, ‘My lady! We have to go!’

And it was then I saw the ship. A small ship, coming from the west, rowing down the Swalwan Creek. I could not see the hull, which was hidden by the tall reeds, but there was a cross on the prow, and the distance between that cross and the high mast suggested it could not hold more than ten or twelve benches on each side. The approaching ship’s crew had lowered their sail, presumably for fear that a sudden gust of wind might drive them onto a mudbank and leave them waiting for the tide. Oars were slower, but much safer. ‘Gerbruht!’ I bellowed.

‘Lord?’

‘We have to stop that ship! Get us under way!’

‘The women!’ Awyrgan protested.

‘We’ll come back for them. Oars! Hurry!’

I threw off the only mooring line, which we had tied to a massive log that had drifted ashore, then men began poling the ship out of the narrow inlet. ‘Mail!’ I called, meaning that men should don their armour. I pulled my own mail coat over my head, holding my breath as the stinking leather liner scraped my face. I buckled Serpent-Breath to my waist. The bow oars were in clear water now and Spearhafoc lunged ahead. I shoved the steering-oar over, held my breath again as the hull touched mud, but a heave of the oars pulled her free. We turned westwards and more oars found purchase as we slid into deeper water. I could see the approaching ship now and see she was half the size of Spearhafoc and with fewer than twenty men aboard. I had suspected she might be a trading ship, but she had a lean hull and a high prow, a ship made for swift passage. Her oars checked as they saw us and I could see a man in a red cloak shouting from the stern, perhaps wanting his oarsmen to turn the ship so they could flee, but Spearhafoc was too close and too threatening. ‘Put on red cloaks!’ I shouted at Finan who had assembled a group of mailed and armed men at Spearhafoc’s bows. He waved in reply and called for a man to bring the cloaks. ‘Don’t kill the bastards!’ I bellowed. ‘I just want to talk to them!’

I had asked Finan’s men to wear the red cloaks so that the approaching ship would believe that we, like them, served Æthelhelm. I did not think they would fight us, we were too big, but they could have veered into the southern bank and fled across the marshes if they thought we were enemies. The pretence must have worked because the ship began rowing towards us again, their panic over.