Maybe forty strides away across a cobbled square the brown river was churning past, swollen with rain off the fells. The bridge didn’t look much for all the fuss being made of it – a worn stone span barely wide enough for two riders to pass each other. A mill house stood on its right, a row of low houses on its left, shutters open with a few nervy faces at the windows, most looking off to the south, just like Beck. Beyond the bridge a rutted lane led between wattle shacks and up to the fence on the south side of town. He thought he could see men moving there on the walkways, dim through the drizzle. Maybe a couple with flatbows already shooting.

While he was looking, men started hurrying from an alley and into the square below, forming up a shield wall at the north end of the bridge while a man in a fine cloak bellowed at ’em. Carls to the front, ready to lock their painted shields together. Thralls behind, spears ready to bring down.

There was a battle on the way, all right.

‘You should’ve told me sooner,’ he snapped, hurrying back to his blanket and dragging on his boots.

‘Didn’t know sooner,’ said Reft.

‘Here.’ Colving offered Beck a hunk of black bread, his eyes scared circles in his chubby face.

Even the thought of eating made Beck feel sick. He snatched up his sword, then realised he’d nowhere to take it to. Weren’t like he had a place at the fence, or in the shield wall, or anywhere else in particular. He looked towards the stairs, then towards the window, free hand opening and closing. ‘What do we do?’

‘We wait.’ Flood dragged his stiff leg up the steps and into the attic. He’d got his mail on, glistening with drizzle across the shoulders. ‘Reachey’s given us two houses to hold, this and one just across the street. I’ll be in there.’

‘You will?’ Beck realised he’d made himself sound scared, like a child asking his mummy if she was really going to leave him in the dark. ‘You know, some o’ these boys could do with a man to look to—’

‘That’ll have to be you and Reft. You might not believe it, but the lads in the other house are even greener’n you lot.’

‘Right. ’Course.’ Beck had spent the past week chafing at Flood being always around, keeping him back. Now the thought of the old boy going only made him feel more jittery.

‘There’ll be you five and five more in this house. Some other lads from the weapontake. For the time being just set tight. Block up the windows downstairs best you can. Who’s got a bow?’

‘I have,’ said Beck.

‘And me.’ Reft held his up.

‘I’ve got my sling,’ said Colving, hopefully.

‘You any good with it?’ asked Reft.

The boy shook his head sadly. ‘Couldn’t use it at a window, anyway.’

‘Why bring it up, then?’ snapped Beck, fingering his own bow. His palm was all sweaty.