‘What is it, Corporal—’

‘Didn’t I tell you to stay bloody quiet?’ Tunny dragged Yolk down into the bushes and pulled out his eyeglass, a good three-part brass one he won in a game of squares with an officer from the Sixth. He edged forwards, finding a gap in the undergrowth. The ground rose sharply on the other side of the stream then dipped away, but there were spears behind the whole length of wall that he could see. He glimpsed helmets too. Some smoke, perhaps from a cook-fire. Then he saw a man wading out into the stream, waving a fishing rod made from a spear and some twine, wild-haired and stripped to the waist, and very definitely not a Union soldier. Perhaps only two hundred strides from where they were squatting in the brush.

‘Uh-oh,’ he breathed.

‘Are those Northmen?’ whispered Yolk.

‘Those are a lot of bloody Northmen. And we’re right on their flank.’ Tunny handed his eyeglass over, half-expecting the lad to look through the wrong end.

‘Where did they come from?’

‘I’d guess the North, wouldn’t you?’ He snatched back his eyeglass. ‘Someone’s going to have to go back. Let someone higher up the dunghill know the bother we’re in here.’

‘They must know already, though. They’ll have run into the Northmen themselves, won’t they?’ Yolk’s voice, never particularly calm, had taken on a slightly hysterical note. ‘I mean, they must’ve! They must know!’

‘Who knows what who knows, Yolk? It’s a battle.’ As he said the words, Tunny realised with mounting worry they were true. If there were Northmen behind that wall, there must have been fighting. It was a battle, all right. Maybe the start of a big one. The Northman in the river had landed something, a flashing sliver of a fish flapping on the end of his line. Some of his mates stood up on the wall, shouting and waving. All bloody smiles. If there had been fighting, it looked pretty damn clear they won.

‘Tunny!’ Forest was creeping up through the brush behind them, bent double. ‘There are Northmen on the other side of that stream!’

‘And fishing, would you believe. That wall’s crawling with the bastards.’

‘One of the lads shinned up a tree. Said he could see horsemen at the Old Bridge.’

‘They took the bridge?’ Tunny was starting to think that if he left this valley with no greater losses than eight bottles of brandy he might count himself lucky. ‘They cross it, we’ll be cut off!’

‘I’m aware of that, Tunny. I’m very bloody well aware of that. We need to take a message back to General Jalenhorm. Pick someone out. And stay out of bloody sight!’ And he crawled away through the undergrowth.

‘Someone’s got to go back through the bog?’ whispered Yolk.

‘Unless you can fly there.’

‘Me?’ The lad’s face was grey. ‘I can’t do it, Corporal Tunny, not after Klige … I just can’t do it!’

Tunny shrugged. ‘Someone has to go. You made it across, you can make it back. Just stick to the grassy bits.’