‘Down here, lord!’ Oswi called.

Oswi was young, clever, and a good warrior. I had met him when he was an orphan haunting the streets of Lundene and making a living by theft. He had tried to steal from me, had been caught and, instead of giving him the whipping he deserved, I had pardoned him and trained him as a fighter. He knew the city, and he must have known what was in my mind because he led us downhill through a maze of alleys. The footing was treacherous in the dark and I almost fell twice. Father Oda was guiding Benedetta now, the rest of us all had drawn swords. The noise in the night was louder, the roar of men, of screaming women, of howling dogs and the hammer of iron-shod hooves, but no enemy had yet pierced these narrow alleys in the western part of the city.

‘Stop!’ Oswi held up a hand. We had reached the street that ran just inside the old river wall, and the bridge was close to our left. We were hidden by dark shadow, but the approach to the bridge was lit by torches and there were men there, too many men, men in mail and helmets, men with shields, spears and swords. None wore the dull red cloak of Æthelhelm’s men, but nor did any of them carry Æthelstan’s symbol on their shields.

‘East Anglians?’ Finan asked me.

‘Who else?’

The East Anglians were barring our way eastwards, and we shrank back into deep shadow as dozens of horsemen came into sight. They came from the east, were led by a man wearing a red cloak, and were carrying long spears. I heard laughter, then a command to go uphill. The hoofbeats sounded again as we shrank into the alley, hidden there by shadow and fear.

I swore for the third time. I had hoped to get down to the tangle of wharves and work my way along the river bank to the house, but that had always been a forlorn ambition. Berg and his men had either been overwhelmed and slaughtered, or else they had reached Spearhafoc and were even now out in the river’s darkness. But had this East Anglian army come by boat too? That seemed unlikely. It would take a seaman of uncanny ability to negotiate the seaward twists of the Temes in the moon-shrouded darkness, but one thing was sure; the eastern part of the city, the part I needed to reach, was swarming with the enemy.

‘We go north,’ I said, and knew I was trying to lead us out of a mistake. There had never been a real chance of reaching Spearhafoc and in taking my men and Benedetta down the hill I had gone in the wrong direction.

‘North?’ Oswi asked.

‘If we can leave the city,’ I said, ‘we have a chance to reach the road to Werlameceaster.’

‘We have no horses,’ Father Oda pointed out calmly.

‘Then, damn it, we walk!’ I snarled.