‘No mercy,’ I shouted. ‘No mercy!’
The battle-calm was descending, the sword-joy filling me, and I gave myself over to instinct as I stepped deftly from one opponent to the next, cutting, parrying, thrusting, scything through their midst, as easily as if it were a dance. All about me the blade-song rang out. I was dimly aware, at the far end of the enclosure, of Eithne and a band of the slave-girls, a dozen of them and more. With knives in hand they rushed from one of the buildings. Even as we tore into the enemy from the front, they assailed them from behind, hurling themselves into the fray, setting upon those Danes who had tripped and fallen, plunging steel into their throats, and I was laughing as I saw we were winning, cutting them down on all sides, wreaking a ruin amongst Haakon’s troops, filling the morning with our fury.
The fire was taking hold now, sweeping across the thatch of the feasting-hall and the other buildings. Bright tongues of flame licked at the sky, while thick clouds of black smoke billowed up, wafting across the enclosure, stinging my eyes and making me cough, but I did not care as I released the anger that for so long had been building and let my sword do its work, until suddenly the enemy, the ten or so that remained, were falling to their knees, or else fleeing across the yard.
Behind me I heard Oswynn scream, and my heart all but stopped as I turned, thinking that she had found herself some trouble. They were not screams of alarm or pain, though, but of hatred. In her wide eyes was a fury I’d never before witnessed. Rushing forward, she snatched up the sword of one of the fallen Danes, and then, as he tried to rise, stamped her foot down on to his chest, pinning him to the ground. He gave a yell, but it was short-lived, as Oswynn gripped the hilt in both hands and drove the point down, hard, into his face, all the while shrieking in triumph as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her teeth gritted, she tugged it free, then plunged it into his chest where his heart would be, and again and again and again, until finally I managed to drag her away.
‘He’s dead,’ I said, though still she struggled. ‘Oswynn, he’s dead!’
Eventually I was able to prise the weapon from her grasp. I tossed it aside and she fell into my arms, pressing her face against my shoulder, weeping uncontrollably. By then the fight was all but over, and those few who hadn’t surrendered were being chased down by the slave-girls. In all the years I’d trodden the sword-path I’d never seen anything like it.
‘He was one of Haakon’s friends,’ Oswynn said. ‘Sprott, his name was. Many times he—’
But whatever it was she had been about to say, she couldn’t go on, for fresh tears spilt forth.
‘It’s all right,’ I said, caressing her head. ‘You don’t have to tell me.’
What she had seen and what she had been made to do, I didn’t want to imagine. It was a wonder that anything of her old spirit remained. At least she had not forgotten how to wield a blade. A long time ago I’d gifted her with a knife and spent long afternoons teaching her how to use it, so that she would be able to protect herself if ever she needed. A keen learner, she had picked up the rudiments far quicker than many boys, and I was pleased to see that those skills were as sharp now as they had been then.
‘Lord,’ I heard Godric call, and looked up to see him returning with Eanfl?d and the other two women close behind him.
Haakon’s hall was by then nothing but a writhing, twisting tower of flame, a beacon blazing out across the fjord. Around it the many stable buildings and workshops that we had also fired were aflame, and even some that we hadn’t, as the breeze spread glowing ash from one to the next. Smoke swirled all about, growing thicker with every heartbeat. Jarnborg, Haakon’s home, his pride, his so-called iron fortress, was burning.
This was no time to revel in our achievement, however. We had to leave while we still could, before any of his men rushed back to rescue their prized possessions from the blaze.
‘This way,’ I called, waving to Oswynn but also to Godric, ?lfhelm and a grimacing Magnus, who was hobbling, the leather of his shoe covered with blood where he had been wounded. He was clearly struggling, and I knew he would never make it out of Jarnborg alive on his own. But I wasn’t about to leave him. Together we had planned and plotted this victory, and together we had risked all. Together we had fought, and together we would see it through.
‘Go with them,’ I said to Oswynn, meaning Godric and ?lfhelm. I picked up a spear that a dead Dane had no more use for and thrust it into her hands. She could hardly go without a weapon, and that would be better suited to her than a heavy sword. ‘You’ll be safe so long as you stay close to them and don’t leave their sight.’
‘No,’ she said, her eyes beseeching. ‘I want to stay with you.’