“It is; how did you know?”

“I didn’t. I presumed. He’s pursuing you?”

“I’d prefer to say he’s following me. So you’ve heard of him?”

“I’ve heard of him,” Osferth said, “and I’ve heard nothing good.” He frowned, watching as Sköll’s men stopped a half-mile away, checked by the sight of the shield wall. The scouts who had been riding the eastern ridge were coming down to join the larger group, but I noticed the horsemen on the western hills were staying on the high ground. They were scouts too, of course, all riding swift horses and none of them carrying a heavy shield that might slow them down. “They won’t fight now,” Osferth said confidently, “we outnumber them.”

I was not so sure. A single horseman had left Sköll’s ranks and was climbing the western hill. The man had a gray cloak and a long wolf tail flying from his helmet’s crest. Sköll, meanwhile, seemed content to watch us. I looked back to Osferth. “You’re far from home,” I said accusingly.

“As are you, lord.”

I gestured at the valley and the woodland. “Northumbria is my home.”

“And Northumbrian Danes came to raid the farms around Mameceaster,” he responded tartly, “and we killed them.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

“It’s why we left Mameceaster,” he said evasively.

“Was one of the raiders called Hergild?”

“He was.” Osferth sounded slightly surprised, but did not ask how I knew that name. “My task is to discourage such raiders.”

“Praise God,” the priest who accompanied him said.

We both ignored the priest. “So you serve Treddian?” I asked Osferth.

“I replaced Treddian,” Osferth said. “Prince Æthelstan put me in command of the burh at Mameceaster.”

“I’m glad,” I said, and I was.

“Glad, lord?”

“You deserve a command.”

“I commanded at Brunanburh,” he said with a trace of indignation.

“You did,” I said. Æthelflaed had put Osferth, her half-brother, in command of the garrison, a decision that had annoyed King Edward, who disliked the fact that he was not his father’s eldest son. Osferth was the eldest son, Alfred’s bastard son, whelped on a servant girl before the young Alfred discovered he loved his god more than he loved women, a mistake I have never made. And the bastard Osferth, of all Alfred’s children, most resembled his father. I had heard that Edward, the oldest legitimate son, had dismissed Osferth from Brunanburh after Æthelflaed’s death, fearing perhaps that the bastard might prove a rival, and now Æthelstan had given him a bigger garrison to command. “Does your half-brother know you command Mameceaster?” I asked.

Osferth rewarded me with a cold gaze. “My half-brother?”

“King Edward.”

He hated being reminded of his parentage, and had never tried to take advantage of it. “He surely will know if he doesn’t already. We must wait to see if he approves.” He frowned at Sköll’s men, then cleared his throat. “I am sorry, lord,” he spoke very awkwardly, “about your daughter. I am very sorry.”

“So am I,” I said. I looked up at Sköll’s horsemen on the western ridge. “How did you hear about her?” I asked, still watching the horsemen, who were not moving. There had been twenty men there a moment ago, now there were only half that number, and none had come down into the valley.