‘How many men do I have to kill for you?’

She smiled at that. ‘I killed one myself.’

‘Good.’

‘That one was a pig, a porco! He was on top of me, and I put a knife into his ribs while he was grunting like a pig.’ She turned to look at me. ‘Will you really let me kill Gunnald Gunnaldson?’

‘Is that what you want?’

‘That would be good,’ she said wistfully. ‘But how can I kill the porco if you send us to your home in the north?’

‘We don’t know what we’re doing yet.’

‘If Gunnald Gunnaldson lives,’ Benedetta went on, ‘then I think it is not far from here. It is by the river, I know, because the smell was always there. A big building, dark. It had a private place where their ships tied up.’

‘A wharf.’

‘A wharf,’ she repeated the word, ‘with a wooden wall. And two ships were kept there. And there was a courtyard with a fence, another wall. He would show the slaves there, or his father would show us. I thought I was in hell. Men would laugh as they fingered us.’ She stopped abruptly. She was staring towards the house and I saw the glint of a tear. ‘I was just a child.’

‘Yet the child went to a palace,’ I said gently.

‘Yes.’ She stopped after that one word and I thought she would say no more, then she spoke again. ‘Where I was a toy till the queen wanted me to serve her. That was three years ago.’

‘How long ago—’ I began, but she interrupted me.

‘Twenty-two years, lord. I count the years. Twenty-two years since the Saraceni took me from my home.’ She looked upriver to where the gaunt storehouses stood above the wharves. ‘I would enjoy killing him.’

The house door opened again and Finan appeared. Benedetta started to stand, but I put a hand on her arm to keep her seated. ‘Finan,’ I greeted him.

‘Æthelstan’s men are here,’ Finan said.

‘Thank the gods for that.’

‘But Æthelstan isn’t. They think he’s still in Gleawecestre, but they’re not sure. Is that ale?’

‘Wine.’

‘Devil’s piss,’ Finan said, ‘but I’ll drink it.’ He took the beaker from me and sat at the angle of the wall. ‘Your old friend Merewalh commands here.’

And that news was a relief. Merewalh was indeed an old friend. He had led Æthelflaed’s household warriors, he had fought beside me many times, and I valued him as a sober, sensible and reliable man.

‘Only he’s not here either,’ Finan went on. ‘He left yesterday. He took most of his men to Werlameceaster.’

‘He took them to Werlameceaster! Why?’ It was as much a protest as a question.

‘God alone knows why,’ Finan said. ‘The fellow I talked to just knew Merewalh was gone! Didn’t know why he left, but it was all done in a hurry. He left a man called Bedwin in command here.’

‘Bedwin,’ I repeated the name. ‘Never heard of him. How many men did Æthelstan take?’