He said suddenly: “Perhaps we could build the bridge on the boats.”

Aldred frowned. “How?”

“The roadbed of the bridge could rest on boats, instead of on the riverbed.” He shrugged. “Theoretically.”

Aldred snapped his fingers. “I’ve seen that!” he said. “When I was traveling in the Low Countries. A bridge built on a row of boats. They called it a pontoon bridge.”

Edgar felt bemused. “So it can be done!”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never seen such a thing.” But Edgar was already designing it in his head. “They would have to be firmly braced at the shoreline.”

Aldred thought of a snag. “We can’t block the river. There’s not much traffic, but there is some. The ealdorman would object, and so would the king.”

“There can be a gap in the line of boats, spanned by the roadbed but wide enough for any normal riverboat to pass through.”

“Do you think you could build that?”

Edgar hesitated. Today’s experience had undermined his confidence. All the same, he thought a pontoon bridge was a possibility. “I don’t know,” he said with newfound caution. “But I think so.”

The summer was over, the harvest had been gathered in, and the nip of autumn was in the breeze when Wynstan rode with Garulf to join forces with the men of Devon.

Priests were not supposed to shed blood. This rule was often broken, but Wynstan normally found it a convenient excuse to avoid the discomfort and danger of war.

However, he was no coward. He was bigger and stronger than most men, and he was well armed. As well as the spear carried by everyone, he had a sword with a steel blade, a helmet, and a sort of sleeveless shirt of mail.

He was riding with the army, breaking his usual habit, in order to stay close to Garulf. He had connived to have Garulf made commander in chief because it was the only way to keep control of the army in the family’s hands. But it would be a disaster if Garulf were to die in battle. With Wilf so ill, Garulf had become important. While Ragna’s children were small, Garulf had a chance of inheriting Wilf’s fortune and his title. He could be the means by which the family kept its hold not just on the army, but on Shiring.

The road was a track through forested hills. One day before they were due at their rendezvous, they emerged from a wood and looked up a long valley. At the far, narrower end the river was a fast stream hurrying toward them. Then it widened and ran shallow over rocky falls, and finally consolidated into a deeper, slower waterway.

Six Viking ships were moored just below the falls, tied to the near bank, making a neat line. They were about two miles upstream from where Wynstan and the Shiring army stood staring out from among the trees.

This was the army’s first encounter with the enemy since Garulf became leader. Wynstan felt his stomach clench in anticipation. A man who did not suffer a spasm of fear before a battle was a fool.