He was within a spear’s throw now, his cloak flapping in the wind as he laid a hand upon the sword-hilt at his waist. My heart thundered in my chest; my mind was spinning, my eyes throbbing with pain as white stars were added to the dark spots. It would not be long.
Make it swift, I prayed. Make it swift.
I bowed my head, not wishing to look upon the face of my killer, concentrating solely on keeping the tears from my eyes. A noble end was all I wanted now.
His footsteps grew louder, until he halted about five paces away. I waited for the scrape of steel being drawn; the last time I would ever hear that sound. For this was the moment.
It did not come.
‘Do it,’ I said, unable to bear this much longer. ‘Do it quickly.’ I swallowed, readying myself for the blow to come. Would it hurt? Or would it be so sudden that I wouldn’t even feel it?
‘Lord?’
That voice. I knew that voice. Weakly I managed to lift my head, enough to meet the man’s eye and see the blotched white skin on the side of his face where many years ago he had been burnt.
Like a weir bursting under the weight of the winter flow, the tears came again, streaming down my cheeks, but instead of tears of sorrow, for the first time in what seemed like an eternity they were tears of relief and of joy.
It was ?dda.
He was alive and as well as I had ever known him, though the same could hardly be said for myself. Seeing how weak I was, the Englishman gave me a handful of nuts and berries that he produced from a pouch at his belt, as well as the small draught of ale that was left in his flask. And with that we left Earnford. He allowed me his horse while he walked alongside, leading the animal by the reins and making sure I didn’t fall from the saddle.
‘I came back to see if any others were left alive,’ he explained. ‘The Welshmen laid everything waste after they left. I didn’t think I’d find anyone, least of all you. How is it that you’re here, lord?’
The tale was too long and too complicated, and I was too weary to answer. Thankfully he did not press me. He took me to the others who had survived, the few of them that there were. They had taken shelter deep in the woods across the valley and over the hill, so far from any path or cart-track that at first I thought the stableman must have made a mistake and we had become lost. I should have had more faith in him, for not half an hour later we came upon them. Father Erchembald was the first I saw, his stout frame hunched over a fire upon which he and the rest were cooking a hare on a makeshift spit.
‘God be praised,’ said Father Erchembald when he saw me. ‘Is it really you?’
Next to the priest stood the miller Nothmund with his plump wife Gode, Beorn the brewer with his daughter and two young sons, as well as a handful of the field-labourers – R?dwulf, ?lred, Ceawlin, D?gric and Odgar – some of them with their families and some without. Looks of surprise turned to delight as they got to their feet and rushed to greet me. For the briefest moment hope stirred within my breast as I thought Leofrun might be there too, but as they crowded me and ?dda helped me down from the saddle, that hope was quickly crushed. For her face was not among them.
‘Where is she?’ I asked, glancing wildly about, craning my neck to see over their heads in case she was somewhere behind them. ‘Is Leofrun here?’
At first no one wanted to speak, nor even meet my gaze. Deep inside I knew what their answer would be, knew the reason for their silence, though I did not want to believe it. Not until someone spoke it plainly.
‘Someone tell me,’ I demanded in English so that they all could understand me. ‘Where is she? Nothmund? Odgar?’
Neither of them replied. Nor did Ceawlin or Beorn or any of the others, their eyes downcast. Eventually Father Erchembald broke the silence, his eyes heavy with sadness and sympathy.
‘I’m sorry, Tancred.’ His voice was consolatory but to my ears his words sounded hollow. ‘We all are.’
‘No,’ I said, shaking my head, not wanting to listen. ‘You’re lying. It’s not true. It can’t be—’
I broke off, not knowing what to say. My mind was reeling. This could not be happening. Had I not been here before, not so long ago? First Oswynn, and now, barely a year later, Leofrun: both taken from me, their lives cut short because of me.
‘She is with God now,’ said the priest, laying his hand upon my arm in comfort. ‘Her soul is at peace.’
Leofrun had been my one precious thing in all the world, more precious than any number of sparkling rubies or silver pennies, gleaming swords or battle-trained horses. More precious than land or rank or reputation. Gladly would I have given everything I owned if it meant she might live, if I might hold her even once more, one final time. The thought that I would never again see her face, never caress those cheeks or gaze into her grey-blue eyes or run my hands through her auburn tresses was too much to bear.
‘It was Bleddyn’s men who did this, wasn’t it?’ I asked, my fists clenching. ‘They killed her.’
Erchembald glanced at ?dda, who said quite simply, ‘The Welsh razed Earnford, lord, but they did not kill Leofrun.’