And I saw a chance to end this.
Summoning all the breath in my chest, I gave a wordless roar, and in that roar was all the anger and frustration of the last few weeks. I charged forward, trusting that the others would be behind me. Hereward heard me coming, and despite his injured ankle managed to turn just in time to fend off my strike. Steel shrieked against steel as our blades met, but then I was riding on, leaving him for those behind me to finish. I crashed into the first of Hereward’s men before he could so much as level his spear. Iron clattered upon limewood as he fell beneath Fyrheard’s hooves. Like a river the battle-joy was flowing, carrying me with it as I struck out on both sides with shield-boss and sword-point. Men must have been shouting, screaming, yelping in pain, howling in anguish as their friends fell before their eyes, but all I remember hearing is the sound of my own breathing and the beating of my heart in my breast and the blood pounding behind my eyes. I rammed the steel home into the throat of the next man and then battered the flat of the blade across the nasal-guard of the one after him, slicing his cheek open, biting into his skull, sending teeth and fragments of bloodied bone flying.
‘No mercy!’ I shouted.
I heard a rush of air and glanced up to see a volley of goose-feathered shafts arcing high into the blue sky, but thankfully they were headed in the direction of the enemy and not for me. Hamo’s archers had not entirely exhausted their arrow-bags, then. It was quick thinking on their part, too, for it happened that at the same moment as Hereward’s retainers raised their shields, to protect themselves from the approaching storm, we were upon them, cutting beneath the iron-reinforced rims into their unprotected thighs, driving into their midst, forcing them back. The ploy was one that we had used at Haestinges five long years ago; it had worked then and it was working now, and the enemy did not know what to do. Behind me I heard Serlo and Pons and the others bellowing as they cut down some of the wounded we left in our wake. The enemy were falling before our fury, and in that instant I felt as if nothing in the world could harm me.
Confidence is a strange thing. It can arrive unexpectedly as if from nowhere, for no apparent reason, and inspire men to do things that in their right mind they would never dream of undertaking; and it can desert a man just as quickly, even on the point of victory. And so it was then, for even though they still just about outnumbered us, the enemy broke. A couple threw down their weapons, obviously hoping that we would spare them if they gave themselves up, but those hopes were in vain, and they had barely a chance to open their mouths in protest before we cut them down.
Breathing hard, I found myself with space around me. The rest of the Englishmen were fleeing northwards along the track, following their womenfolk, abandoning the fight.
I checked Fyrheard by the path’s edge. ‘Go,’ I yelled to the others, my voice hoarse and hurting. ‘After them!’
‘With me,’ said Wace. ‘Conroi with me!’
He and Pons and Serlo and Tor and the Gascon flashed past, and they were followed by Hamo and half a dozen of his men, who had cast aside their bows and drawn swords and axes and knives. Cries of delight went up as they sensed plunder at hand.
But I had more important things in mind. I glanced about, searching for Hereward. For his corpse was not among those strewn along the path.
And then I saw him, striking out from the path across the mud, crashing through the sedge and the reeds towards a stand of alders an arrow’s flight away, hobbling as he went owing to his injured ankle. Godric was pursuing him, swearing as he struggled over the soft ground, while by the willow trees on the island one of the remaining archers – a squat, square-faced lad – had an arrow upon his bow. Already he had drawn the string back and his eyes were narrowed as he took his aim.
‘Leave him,’ I called, and thankfully the lad heard me and lowered his bow. ‘He’s mine!’
If ever there was one kill I wanted, it was this one. I would not let Hereward escape my sword, as Eadgar ?theling and Wild Eadric and Bleddyn ap Cynfyn had done. I wanted to be known as the man who had slain the scourge of the fens, who had gone toe to toe with him in single combat and had bested him. His death would be just reward for all the hardships we had suffered, on this campaign and in the past five years.