Dyfnwal shrugged. ‘If that is all you offer, then you will not have him.’
‘Do not test my patience, Welshman. Believe me when I say it would be better if you took advantage of my beneficence, lest my humour should blacken further.’
‘You will not intimidate me, Eadric. I fear neither you nor your master the ?theling.’
Eadric stood in front of him, so close that I thought he was about to strike him. ‘I don’t ask that you fear me,’ he said slowly, as one might if trying to explain something to a child. ‘I ask only that you give me what was promised to me by your king. Now hand him over.’
‘And if I refuse, then what?’ asked Dyfnwal, smirking.
‘Then this.’ As if from nowhere Eadric’s knife was in his hand. Without warning he plunged it into the other man’s unprotected thigh, driving it deep and leaving it there while he flourished his sword. ‘You will not stop me from taking what is rightfully mine!’
Dyfnwal fell backwards, clutching at the wound and yelling out in agony as blood spurted forth. All at once Eadric and his huscarls were amongst the Welshmen: slashing, swinging, thrusting, driving shining steel into their bellies. For a moment I stood rooted to the ground in surprise, but as the ones guarding me bared their steel and threw themselves into the fray my senses returned. One of the huscarls, more alert than the rest, made a grab for me, but the weight of his mail made him slow. I ducked low and twisted away before he could lay hands upon me. Even as the Wild One bellowed the order to seize me, I was turning, running as I never had before, my bare soles pounding the damp grass as I summoned every last ounce of strength in my legs. Once or twice I stumbled upon the turf, nearly tripping, but somehow managed to stay on my feet and to keep moving. If I fell they would catch me and all would be lost. This was my one chance and I could not let it slip.
Steel clashed against steel, ringing out through the darkness; the silence of the night was broken by shouts and screams as I rushed to the nearest of the Welshmen’s ponies and clambered ungainly up on to its back, kicking my bare heels into the animal’s flank almost before my arse had found the saddle. The wind buffeted my shoulders and my face as I clung to the reins and raced across the fields that surrounded the fort, following the course of the river as it wound up the valley away from Mathrafal. Before long, however, I heard Eadric’s men riding in pursuit, hooves pounding in rapid rhythm. I dared not look back to see how many they were, but with every stride that my pony made I could hear their cries growing louder and knew they were getting nearer. Their mounts were stronger and faster than mine and in open country they would soon be upon me if I did not do something.
Leaving the main track and the river plain, I climbed the slope towards the woods, hoping to lose my pursuers in the trees, the undergrowth and the night. Relying on the nimbleness and sure-footedness of the Welsh horseflesh beneath me, I darted in and out of the trees, ducking to avoid the larger branches and crashing through some of the smaller ones, wincing as they made great scratches across my face and chest. I knew not where I was going, only that I could not stop. I climbed ever higher, pushing on until the shouts behind me had faded to nothing and my heart was no longer beating quite so hard, and even then I kept going, forcing myself to stay awake as I traversed ditches and streams and crossed grassy clearings where the ashes of old charcoal fires lay, venturing deeper and deeper, until at last I came out on the other side. A river ran before me; whether it was the same one or not I had no way of telling. Although we must have marched not far from here only a few weeks ago, I did not recall this country. Of course the night had a strange way of making even well-known places look new and unfamiliar, but that was only another way of saying what deep down I knew: as well as being hungry and cold, sweating yet shivering, I was now lost.