That was when I saw it. The white stag, that noble animal, flying proudly above those earthworks, along which were arrayed rows upon rows of spearmen in gleaming mail.
‘There he is,’ I cried, pointing in its direction, and felt a surge of joy for I knew at that moment that the day belonged to us. ‘It’s him! It’s Morcar!’
Except that his troops were not moving to cut off their countrymen’s retreat, as we’d been expecting. Instead they seemed to be merely holding position, watching, waiting.
‘What’s he doing?’ Serlo shouted. ‘Why isn’t he attacking?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, as an anxious feeling gripped my stomach. Once our first conroi had crossed the bridge, he would turn his spears against his countrymen. That was what he had told us. That was what he had promised. He had given us his own nephew as hostage, as proof of his good faith. We had fulfilled our side of the agreement. We had crossed the bridge and captured the shore. All that remained was for him to make good on his word. What, then, was he waiting for?
That was when I realised. He had never meant to aid us. The rat-turd had pledged his support only so that he could lure us into a trap. Why hadn’t I seen this before now? How could any of us have thought that he, who had broken so many oaths before, should keep to this one?
And a trap it was, for our only hope of withdrawal rested with the bridge and the punts, and neither of those offered a swift escape. While some might get away, others would be left to hold off the enemy at our backs, and we would probably lose almost as many men that way as if we fought the enemy in open battle.
‘He lied to us,’ I said. ‘He betrayed us!’
My grip tightened around my sword-hilt. Without Morcar’s help, we faced an almost impossible struggle. For he held the higher ground, and to have a hope of defeating him, we would have to assault their defences, or else somehow draw them out, and I did not see how we could do either. The king’s plan, so carefully crafted, lay in ruins, and all because of Morcar.
Perhaps it was because my mind was filled with all these thoughts that I didn’t see the danger ahead, or perhaps it would have made no difference. My blood was up and I was thinking only of killing as many of the rebels as I could before they escaped to the protection of their ramparts. Between the grass-heads I managed to glimpse a band of them half running and half stumbling away from us, across the tussocks and through shallow, murky pools.
‘Kill them,’ I yelled to Pons and Serlo, and all those others who were with me, as we charged through the grass after them. ‘Kill them! Kill—’
I was still shouting when a shriek filled my ears and I found myself falling. Fyrheard’s forelegs gave way and I clung to his neck until I could hold on no longer and was pitched sideways. The ground rushed up towards me and I met it hard. My head rattled inside my helmet as I tumbled into a gully, where I found myself looking at the sky, with blood and dirt in my mouth and all the breath knocked from my chest. I was trying to work out what had happened when there came a second shriek, and a third, and suddenly horses were falling all about. I ducked just in time as hooves lashed out barely an arm’s length above my head. Clods of earth and wet turf showered my face.
Panicked shouts filled the air, and then not far off I heard the English battle-cry: ‘Godemite!’
Blinking, I raised myself to my feet. My shield was still on my arm, having somehow survived the fall, but my sword had slipped from my grasp. My head still spinning, I looked around, searching for my blade amidst the mud, and in so doing nearly missed the bearded, leather-clad foeman rushing at me from the side with a seax in hand, a smirk upon his face and victory in his eyes. I raised my shield just in time to meet his strike. He feinted low before thrusting forward over the top edge of my shield towards my face, but I was too quick for him, turning to one side, grabbing his arm in my free hand and twisting hard so that he dropped his weapon. He staggered forwards, howling in pain, and as he did so I landed a kick upon his backside, sending him sprawling.
‘Tancred!’