Eawen left us not long after that so that she could get back before anyone realised she was missing, although we insisted that she eat something before she went. She’d taken an enormous risk on our behalf, and we were all grateful to her.
As soon as she’d left, we gathered our helmets and our shields, our swords and knives and seaxes and bows and axes and spears. We fastened our sword belts and baldrics and buckled up our shirts of leather. Our tents and all our other belongings – our packs and our cooking pots and everything else – we left behind, thinking we could come back for them once it was done. We threw water on the fire and stamped upon the cinders and ground them with the toes of our shoes into the earth, and then, under the cover of darkness, under a starless sky, we set off. We had some miles to cover, across fields and streams, tramping through flooded water-meadows, scrambling up hillsides with uneven tussocks and muddy paths that kept giving way beneath our soles. The fog was closing in and at times we could barely see our own feet, let alone who was in front of us, but somehow we kept going.
It was still dark by the time we found the winter road and arrived at the old fort, or what remained of it. There was a short stretch where the rutted track ran within perhaps ten paces of part of the encircling ditch, and we chose that as our hiding place. Ten of us huddled down on the wet slopes, surrounded by thorns and bramble bushes, with the ramparts at our back, while Cynehelm sent Sebbe and Gamal to keep watch across the valley. They were to hurry back as soon as they saw anyone approaching from the direction of Stedehamm.
We didn’t sleep. We couldn’t. We spoke in low voices, shared a little bread and ale and did our best to keep warm. It wasn’t that we were nervous. I wasn’t. It was more the anticipation, knowing that finally our chance had come not just to carry out the promise we’d made to ourselves at the start, but also to fulfil the duty we owed Eawen and these people. None of us wanted to let this chance slip. The fate of kingdoms might not have rested upon our shoulders, but we knew how important this was. We would send a message to the foreigners. The English people were not defeated. They would not simply bow their heads to the yoke. We would fight on, and so long as we did, no Norman was safe.
Morning came. The fog still hung close. The skies grew lighter, and still we waited. Eawen had told us they’d be riding out at dawn, but an hour must have passed since then and there was no sign of them. No word either from the two youngsters keeping watch. Someone murmured that she’d lied to us. Wihtred, I think it was, but I’m not sure.
Someone else, more charitably, said she must have misheard. Whatever she thought she’d heard about Malger riding to Ledecestre, she was mistaken.
Cynehelm said nothing, but I could tell he was thinking the same thing as me: we were wasting our time.
Pybba was asking how much longer we were going to wait when through the fog from the direction of the manor came the clinking of harnesses, the dull thudding of hooves upon turf.
It’s them, said Cynehelm. He told the others to stay low to the ground and to wait for his signal, then he and I scrambled, as quietly as we could, further up the side of the ditch so that we might have a better view of whoever these people were.
I asked, Where are Sebbe and Gamal? They were supposed to come and tell us if they saw anyone.
They must have fallen asleep, Cynehelm said and swore under his breath, saying that he should have sent someone older rather than entrust such an important task to them.
Malger was late, and we hadn’t heard from the two boys. Alone, each fact meant nothing, but taken together I couldn’t help but see them as signs. There was a tightness in the pit of my stomach, a tightness that only grew worse with every passing moment. Why hadn’t Sebbe and Gamal returned?
I said, This isn’t right.
He replied, You’re just anxious.
The horsemen were growing closer. We pressed our bellies against the dirt, breathing as lightly as we could. I could hear my heartbeat sounding through my entire body as we lay there, peering out from behind a thorn bush, trying to catch a glimpse of our enemy.
And there they were. Four shadows in the gloom.
This should be easy, said Cynehelm.
He was thinking that we had three men to every one of theirs, but I was thinking that they were missing at least two of their number. Hadn’t Eawen told us there would be six?
No, I said to him. Something’s wrong.
Enough, he told me, stopping me before I could go on, and in a way he was right to, because by then it was too late to change our plan. They were getting close now, riding at a gentle trot. Clad all in mail from neck to knee, with long spears in their hands and strips of coloured cloth flying from the shafts of those spears. I forget what colours they were.