‘Were it not for him, we might never have taken Elyg,’ I said. ‘This is the one who brought about your downfall, who brought an end to your rebellion.’
‘You were the one who betrayed us?’ Hereward asked Godric. His eyes were colder than steel on a winter’s morning. ‘I always knew that your uncle had the tongue of a serpent. I ought to have guessed you would be no different.’ He sneered as he gestured at the scabbard that hung from the boy’s belt. Godric had come from Alrehetha without a weapon, and so I’d given him the sword with the emerald in the pommel that had belonged to Thurcytel. ‘That’s a big blade for a child to carry. You’d best take care that you don’t cut yourself.’
The boy’s cheeks reddened, but he said nothing.
‘You always were a worthless turd in my eyes,’ Hereward went on. ‘How can you call yourself a thegn when you don’t even know how to wield the weapons with which to defend your lands?’
‘Enough of your squawking,’ I said to Hereward.
He ignored me. ‘Even now you cower behind the protection of these Frenchmen. Why do you let him speak for you? Have you lost your voice, or just your wits?’ He spat. ‘Your mother was a whore, and the daughter of a whore besides, but even so she would have drowned you at birth had she known the disgrace you’d bring upon your kin and your countrymen. Because of you, our one last chance to regain our birthright is lost. This once-proud kingdom has fallen, we find ourselves ruled by foreign tyrants, and it is your fault. Do you hear me? You did this, Godric of Corbei!’
‘No!’ the boy cried, and before I could do anything he spurred his palfrey forward, at the same time drawing his sword.
‘Godric!’ I shouted, but it was too late. The boy had allowed the elder Englishman to goad him to anger, and now he would suffer.
Some of Hereward’s men started forward, but he raised his shield-hand to forestall them, while with the other he let his helmet fall and drew his seax. A smile spread across his face as he took his stance, lowering his blade-point towards the ground, leaving the upper half of his body open as an invitation to attack. Godric accepted without hesitation, roaring with rage as he swung at Hereward’s head, but his foe had been anticipating such a move. He ducked beneath Godric’s blade, at the same time whipping his own up and flashing the edge across the palfrey’s hindquarters, tearing through flesh and sinew. The animal buckled and the boy fell, and he was still clinging desperately with one hand to the reins when he hit the ground.
‘Stop this,’ I shouted above the horse’s screams. Hereward stood over the boy with his seax pointed at the skin beneath his chin. Godric’s sword lay just a little beyond grasp, but the fall must have knocked the wind out of him, or else hurt him worse than I had thought, since he seemed unable to reach it – for all the good that it would have done him at that moment.
‘Stop?’ Hereward asked, although he did not take his eyes from the boy. ‘Why should I stop? Not only has he betrayed us, he’s tried to kill me too.’
‘He couldn’t kill you if you were weaponless and missing both your legs,’ I said. ‘You’ve had your fun, so now let him go. He’s worth nothing to you.’
‘Please,’ Godric said weakly, and let out a cough. ‘Spare me, p-please, I beg of you.’
Hereward kicked him in the ribs. It didn’t seem to me an especially hard kick, but it was enough to make the boy cry out in agony and bend double as he rolled over, clutched at his side and cursed all at the same time.
‘I hardly touched you, weakling,’ Hereward growled. Disdainfully he spat at Godric before at last he turned to face me. ‘Are you so scared to fight me that you have to send whelps like him to do your work? Don’t insult—’
He didn’t get the chance to finish. In one movement Godric’s hand had found the hilt of his weapon and brought the blade around, aiming at the back of his opponent’s legs, and I saw that all that howling and swearing and writhing had been but a ruse.
Hereward gave a yell as the point slashed across his ankle. A glancing blow, it seemed, but the lank-haired Englishman fell to his knees. Straightaway his retainers started forward. Godric scrambled to his feet, took one glance at them and another at Hereward, perhaps thinking to finish him, but instead he froze. For, despite his injured leg, Hereward was struggling to his feet, his teeth clenched and his eyes wild.
‘Bastard,’ Hereward said, and swung at the boy, but it was a wild stroke that missed by a hand’s breadth, and suddenly he was off balance, staggering, hobbling, sliding on the mud. ‘Bastard!’