The Lords of the North (31 page)

I was showing off. Of course I was showing off. One man against sixty? But Gisela was
watching. In truth I was in no real danger. The sixty men had not been ready for a fight,
and if they pursued me now I could take refuge with Guthred's men. But Kjartan's men were not
pursuing. They were too nervous of Ragnar's approach and so I ignored them, riding close
to Guthred and his men instead.

'Have you forgotten how to fight?' I shouted at them. I ignored Guthred. I even ignored
Gisela, though I had taken off my helmet so she would recognise me. I knew she was watching
me. I could sense those dark eyes and sense her astonishment and I hoped it was a joyful
astonishment. They've all got to die!' I shouted, pointing my sword at Kjartan's men.
'Every last one of the bastards has to die, so go out and kill them!'

Ragnar struck then and there was the hammer of shield on shield, the clangour of swords
and the scream of men and horses. Kjartan's men were scattering and some, despairing of
making an escape eastwards, were galloping to the west. I looked at the men in the
gateway, 'Rypere! Clapa! I want those men stopped!'

Clapa and Rypere were staring at me as though I were a ghost, which I suppose I was in a
way. I was glad Clapa was still with Guthred, for Clapa was a Dane and that suggested
Guthred could still command some Danish allegiance. 'Clapa!

You earsling!' I yelled. 'Stop dawdling like a boiled egg. Get on a horse and fight!'

'Yes, lord!'

I rode closer still until I was staring down at Guthred. There was a fight going on
behind me and Guthred's men, stirred from their torpor, were hurrying to join the
slaughter, but Guthred had no eyes for the battle. He just stared up at me. There were
priests behind him and Gisela was beside him, but I looked only into Guthred's eyes and saw
the fear there. 'Remember me?' I asked coldly.

He had no words.

'You would do well,' I said, 'to set a kingly example and kill a few men right now. You
have a horse?'

He nodded and still could not speak.

Then get on your horse,' I said curtly, 'and fight.'

Guthred nodded and took one backwards pace, but though his servant led a horse forward
Guthred did not mount. I looked at Gisela then and she looked back and I thought her eyes could
light a fire. I wanted to speak, but it was my turn to have no words. A priest plucked at her
shoulder as if summoning her away from the fighting, but I twitched Serpent-Breath's
bloody blade towards the man and he went very still. I looked back at Gisela and it seemed as
if I had no breath, as if the world stood still. A gust of wind lifted a wisp of black hair
showing beneath her bonnet. She brushed it away, then smiled. 'Uhtred,'

she said, as though saying the name for the very first time.

'Gisela,' I managed to speak.

'I knew you'd come back,' she said.

'I thought you were going to fight,' I snarled at Guthred and he ran off like a whipped
dog.

'Do you have a horse?' I asked Gisela.

'No.'

'You!' I shouted at a boy gawping at me. 'Fetch me that horse!' I pointed to the
stallion of the man I had injured in the face. That man was now dead, killed by Guthred's men
as they joined the fight.

The boy brought me the stallion and Gisela scrambled into its saddle, hoisting her
skirts inelegantly around her thighs. She pushed her muddy shoes into the stirrups then
held out a hand to touch my cheek. 'You're thinner.' she said.

'So are you.'

'I have not been happy,' she said, 'since the moment you left.' She kept her hand on my
cheek for a heartbeat, then impulsively took it away and tore off the linen bonnet and
unpinned her black hair so that it fell around her shoulders like the hair of an unwed girl.
'I'm not married,' she said, 'not properly married.'

'Not yet.' I said, and my heart was so full of joy. I could not take my eyes from her. I was
with her again and the months of slavery dropped away as though they had never happened.

'Have you killed enough men yet?' she asked mischievously.

'No.'

So we rode towards the slaughter.

You cannot kill everyone in an enemy army. Or rarely. Whenever the poets sing a tale
of battle they always insist that no enemy escapes unless the poet himself happens to
be part of the fight when he alone escapes. It is strange that. Poets always live while
everyone else dies, but what do poets know? I have never seen a poet in a shield wall.
Yet, outside Cetreht, we must have killed over fifty of Kjartan's men, and then
everything became chaotic because Guthred's men could not tell the difference between
Kjartan's followers and Ragnar's Danes, and so some of the enemy escaped as we pulled
warriors apart. Finan, attacked by two of Guthred's household troops, had killed both of
them and, when I found him, he was about to attack a third. 'He's on our side.' I shouted to
Finan.

'He looks like a rat.' Finan snarled.

'His name,' I said, 'is Sihtric, and he once swore me an oath of loyalty.'

'Still looks like a rat, he does.'

'Are you on our side?' I called to Sihtric, 'or did you rejoin your father's troops?'

'Lord, lord!' Sihtric came running to me and fell to his knees in the trampled mud
beside my horse. 'I'm still your man, lord.'

'You didn't take an oath to Guthred?'

'He never asked me, lord.'

'But you served him? You didn't run back to Dunholm?'

'No, lord! I stayed with the king.'

'He did,' Gisela confirmed.

I gave Serpent-Breath to Gisela, then reached down and took Sihtric's hand.

'So you're still my man?'

'Of course, lord.' He was clutching my hand, gazing at me with disbelief.

'You're not much use, are you,' I said, 'if you can't beat a skinny Irishman like
him?'

'He's quick, lord,' Sihtric said.

'So teach him your tricks.' I told Finan, then I patted Sihtric's cheek. 'It's good to
see you, Sihtric.'

Ragnar had two prisoners and Sihtric recognised the taller of the two. 'His name is
Hogga.' he told me.

'He's a dead Hogga now.' I said. I knew Ragnar would not let any of Kjartan's men
survive while Kjartan himself lived. This was the bloodfeud. This was hatred. This was the
start of Ragnar's revenge for his father's death, but for the moment Hogga and his
shorter companion evidently believed they would live. They were talking avidly,
describing how Kjartan had close to two hundred men in Dunholm. They said Kjartan had
sent a large war-band to support Ivarr, while the rest of his men had followed Rolf to this
bloody field by Cetreht.

'Why didn't Kjartan bring all his men here?' Ragnar wanted to know.

'He won't leave Dunholm, lord, in case Ælfric of Bebbanburg attacks when he's
gone.'

'Has Ælfric threatened to do that?' I asked.

'I don't know, lord.' Hogga said.

It would be unlike my uncle to risk an attack on Dunholm, though perhaps he would lead
men to rescue Guthred if he knew where Guthred was. My uncle wanted the saint's corpse and
he

wanted Gisela, but my guess was that he would risk little to get those two things. He
would certainly not risk Bebbanburg itself, any more than Kjartan would risk
Dunholm.

'And Thyra Ragnarsdottir?' Ragnar resumed his questioning. 'Does she live?'

'Yes, lord.'

'Does she live happily?' Ragnar asked harshly.

They hesitated, then Hogga grimaced. 'She is mad, lord.' He spoke in a low voice. 'She
is quite mad.'

Ragnar stared at the two men. They became uncomfortable under his gaze, but then
Ragnar looked up at the sky where a buzzard floated down from the western hills. 'Tell me,'
he said, and his voice was suddenly low, almost easy, 'how long have you served
Kjartan?'

'Eight years, lord,' Hogga said.

'Seven years, lord,' the other man said.

'So you both served him,' Ragnar said, still speaking softly, 'before he fortified
Dunholm?'

'Yes, lord.'

'And you both served him,' Ragnar went on, his voice harsh now, 'when he took men to
Synningthwait and burned my father's hall. When he took my sister as his son's whore. When
he killed my mother and my father.'

Neither man answered. The shorter of the two was shaking. Hogga looked around as if to
find a way to escape, but he was surrounded by mounted sword-Danes, then he flinched as
Ragnar drew Heart-Breaker.

'No, lord,' Hogga said.

'Yes,' Ragnar said and his face twisted with anger as he chopped down. He had to dismount
to finish the job. He killed both men, and he hacked at their fallen bodies in fury. I
watched, then turned to see Gisela's face. It showed nothing, then she became conscious of
my gaze and turned towards me with a small look of triumph as if she knew I had half
expected her to be horrified by the sight of men being disembowelled. They deserved
it?' she asked.

'They deserved it,' I said.

'Good.'

Her brother, I noted, had not watched. He was nervous of me, for which I did not blame
him, and doubtless terrified of Ragnar who was bloodied like a butcher, and so Guthred
had gone back to the village, leaving us with the dead. Father Beocca had managed to find
some of Guthred's priests and, alter talking with them, he limped to us. 'It is agreed,' he
said, 'that we shall present ourselves to the king in the church.' He suddenly became aware
of the two severed heads and the sword-slashed bodies. 'Dear God, who did that?'

'Ragnar.'

Beocca made the sign of the cross. 'The church,' he said, 'we're to meet in the church. Do
try to wipe that blood off your mail, Uhtred. We're an embassy!'

I turned to see a handful of fugitives crossing the hilltops to the west. They would
doubtless cross the river higher up and join the horsemen on the far bank, and those
horsemen would be wary now. They would send word to Dunholm that enemies had come, and
Kjartan would hear of the eagle-wing banner and know that Ragnar was returned from
Wessex.

And perhaps, on his high crag, behind his high walls, he would be frightened. I rode to
the church, taking Gisela with me. Beocca hurried after on foot, but he was slow. 'Wait for
me!'he shouted, 'wait for me!'

I did not wait. Instead I spurred the stallion faster and left Beocca far behind.

It was dark in the church. The only illumination came from a small window above the
door and from some feeble rushlights burning on the altar that was a trestle table
covered by a black cloth. Saint Cuthbert's coffin, together with the other two chests of
relics, stood in front of the altar where Guthred sat on a milking stool flanked by two men
and a woman. The Abbot Eadred was one of the men and Father Hrothweard was the other. The
woman was young, had a plumply pretty face, and a pregnant belly. I learned later she was
Osburh, Guthred's Saxon queen. She glanced from me to her husband, evidently expecting
Guthred to speak, but he was silent. A score of warriors stood on the left side of the church
and a larger number of priests and monks on the right. They had been arguing, but all went
quiet when I entered. Gisela held my left arm. Together we walked down the church until we
faced Guthred, who seemed incapable of looking at me or speaking to me. He opened his mouth
once, but no words came, and he looked past me as if hoping that someone less baleful would
come through the church door. 'I'm going to marry your sister,' I told him.

He opened his mouth and closed it again.

A monk moved as if to protest my words and was pulled back by a companion and I saw that
the gods had been especially good to me that day, for the pair were Jaenberht and Ida, the
monks who had negotiated my slavery. Then, from the other side of the church, a man did
protest. 'The Lady Gisela,' he said, 'is already married.'

I saw that the speaker was an older man, grey-haired and stout. He was dressed in a short
brown tunic with a silver chain about his neck and he jerked his head up belligerently as
I walked towards him. 'You're Aidan,' I said. It had been fourteen years since I had been in
Bebbanburg, but I recognised Aidan. He had been one of my father's doorkeepers, charged
with keeping unwanted folk out of the great hall, but the silver chain made it clear that
he had risen in rank since then. I flicked the chain with my hand. 'What are you now,
Aidan?'

I demanded.

'Steward to the Lord of Bebbanburg,' he said gruffly. He did not recognise me. How could
he? I had been nine years old when he last saw me.

'So that makes you my steward,' I said.

'Your steward?' he asked, then he realised who I was I and he stepped back to join two
young warriors. That step was involuntary, though Aidan was no coward. He had been a good
soldier in his day, but meeting me had shocked him. He recovered though, and faced me
defiantly. 'The Lady Gisela,' he said, 'is married.'

'Are you married?' I asked Gisela.

'No,' she said.

'She's not married,' I told Aidan.

Guthred cleared his throat as if to speak, but then fell silent as Ragnar and his men filed
into the church.

'The lady is married,' a voice called from among the priests and monks. I turned to see
that it was Brother Jaenberht who had spoken. 'She is married to the Lord Ælfric,'
Jaenberht insisted.

'She's married to Ælfric,' ?' I asked as if I had not heard that news, 'she's married to
that whore-born piece of lice-shit?'

Aidan gave one of the warriors beside him a hard nudge, and the man drew his sword. The
other did the same, and I smiled at them, then very slowly drew Serpent-Breath.

'This is a house of God!' Abbot Eadred protested. 'Put your swords away!'

The two young men hesitated, but when I kept Serpent-Breath drawn they kept their own
blades ready, though neither moved to attack me. They knew my reputation and, besides,
Serpent-Breath was still sticky with the blood of Kjartan's men.

'Uhtred!' This time it was Beocca who interrupted me. He burst into the church and
pushed past Ragnar's men. 'Uhtred!' he called again. I turned on him. 'This is my business,
father,' I said, 'and you will leave me to it. You remember Aidan?' Beocca looked
confused, then he recognised the steward who had been at Bebbanburg during all the years
that Beocca had been my father's priest. 'Aidan wants these two boys to kill me,' I said,
'but before they oblige him,' I was looking at the steward again, 'tell me how Gisela can be
married to a man she's never met?'