‘The only one, lord,’ Oswi said, tending his fire.

‘He’s a lord?’ a boy asked. None of us answered him.

‘Who are they?’ I asked, though it was a stupid question because the answer was plain to see.

‘Orphans,’ Oswi said.

‘Like you.’

‘Like me, lord.’

‘Aren’t there convents?’ Benedetta asked. ‘Places to look after motherless children?’

‘Convents are cruel,’ Oswi said harshly. ‘If they don’t like you they sell you to the slavers on the river.’

‘What’s happening?’ the boy who had hidden the knife asked.

‘Enemy troops,’ I answered. ‘They took the city. You’d best stay hidden till they calm down.’

‘And you’re running from them?’ he asked.

‘What do you think?’ I asked, and he said nothing. But I knew what he was thinking, that he could earn a small fortune by betraying us, which is why I had asked Oswi if there was another way out of this stinking, dark cellar. ‘You’ll stay here till we say you can leave,’ I added. The boy just looked at me and said nothing. ‘What’s your name, boy?’

He hesitated, as if wanting to challenge me, then muttered his name. ‘Aldwyn.’

‘Aldwyn, lord,’ I corrected him.

‘Lord,’ he added reluctantly.

I crossed to him, stepping over rags and straw. I crouched and stared into his dark eyes. ‘If you betray us, Aldwyn, the enemy will give you a shilling. Maybe two shillings. But if you do me service, boy, I will give you gold.’ I took a coin from my pouch and showed it to him. He stared at it, looked up into my eyes, and then back to the coin. He did not speak, but I could see the hunger in his gaze. ‘Do you know that man?’ I asked, nodding towards Oswi.

He glanced at Oswi, then back to me. ‘No, lord.’

‘Look at him,’ I said. The boy frowned, not understanding, but obediently looked at Oswi who was lit by the flames of the small fire. Aldwyn saw a warrior with a trimmed beard, a fine mail coat, and a sword belt thick with embroidery and small silver panels. ‘Tell him who you are, Oswi,’ I commanded, ‘and what you were.’

‘I’m a warrior of Northumbria,’ Oswi said proudly, ‘but I was once like you, boy. I lived in this cellar, I stole my food and I ran from the slavers like you do. Then I met my lord and he became my gold-giver.’

Aldwyn looked back to me. ‘You are really a lord?’

I ignored the question. ‘How old are you, Aldwyn?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know, lord. Twelve?’

‘You lead these boys and girls?’

He nodded. ‘I look after them, lord.’

‘Are you cruel?’ I asked.

‘Cruel?’ he frowned.

‘Are you cruel?’ I asked again.

He still seemed puzzled by that question and, instead of answering, glanced at his companions. It was one of the girls who responded. ‘He can hurt us, lord,’ she said, ‘but only when we do something wrong.’

‘If you serve me,’ I said, ‘I will be a gold-giver to you all. And yes, Aldwyn, I am a lord. I am a great lord. I have land, I have ships, and I have men. And in time I will drive the enemy from this city and the streets will run with their blood and the dogs will gnaw their flesh and the birds will feast on their eyes.’