At this there was a growl of approval from the villagers, and at a word from Rhu two of the men started to gather up the spoils. “To share fairly, later, for everyone,” said Rhu gruffly, and Baudouin nodded.

“And no doubt the tides will bring you more. There’s wreckage coming ashore already. The king makes no claim on it. It’s yours.”

This, too, brought approval and even some rough words of gratitude. Wood was scarce enough in that rocky and windswept land, and the Saxon ships had been well built. There would be rich pickings along this shore for some tides to come.

A trooper brought Baudouin’s horse, and, rein in hand, the prince paused to exchange a final word with the headman. But some of the villagers still crowded close, and among the crowd there were ugly looks directed at the prisoners, and harsh mutterings. “What about those? To let them live? When they would have murdered us all, and burned our houses and taken our women, aye, and killed and eaten our little ones! Everyone knows what these Saxon wolves are like! Give them to us, Prince!” And a couple of the women, armed with what looked like skinning-knives, took it up in a shrill shouting. “Give them to us! Give them to us!”

“Keep back!” said Baudouin sharply, as the troopers closed round the prisoners. “If you know what might have come to you, then we’ll hear no more from you! For you, this is the end of it! The rest is for the king. As for these three men, for all we know there may be other threats coming to this land of ours, and King March must know of them. So we keep these men alive to tell him what he needs to know. They are not your meat, my friends; they are the king’s!”

“Then pity help them,” said someone, almost inaudibly, adding, to be heard: “The king your brother should reward you nobly for what you have done this day, Prince!”

Baudouin, riding homewards, found himself wondering, almost with apprehension, what his brother would in fact say to him. There would certainly be no noble reward. March was a good enough ruler for this wild and remote kingdom; he was harsh, as were his people and their ways, but he was also subtle, and enjoyed plotting and guile, and the besting of other men by secret means. Not for nothing was he known to his peers as King Fox. But cruelty and cunning are not traits that make a man beloved of his people, and the Cornish people had no love for their king. Baudouin, the young man of action, who understood their ways and spoke to high and low alike, he had their love.

And King March saw, and burned, and said nothing.

2

The king came home three days later, and before he was well within the courtyard of his stronghold he heard about the attempted Saxon landing and his brother’s success in repulsing it. From the captain of the troop that Baudouin had led, to the groom who took March’s bridle and the servant who drew off his boots, all were eager to tell the king what had happened, and to praise the prince’s resourcefulness.