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as I saw the axe blade falter. I lunged again, the spear still deep in his belly and twisted the leaf-shaped
blade a second time, and Wulfger of the Sarnaed opened his mouth as he stared at me and I saw the
horror come to his eyes. He tried to lift the axe, but there was only a terrible pain in his belly and a
liquefying weakness in his legs, and then he stumbled, gasped and fell onto his knees.
I let go of the spear and stepped back as I drew Hywelbane. This is our land, Wulfger of the
Sarnaed, I said loudly enough for his men to hear me, and it stays our land. I swung the blade once,
but swung it hard so that it razored through the matted mass of hair at the nape of his neck and chopped
into his backbone.
He fell dead, killed in an eyeblink.
I gripped my spear shaft, put a boot on Wulfger s belly and tugged the reluctant blade free. Then I
stooped and wrenched the wolf skull from his helmet. I held the yellowing bone towards our enemies,
then cast it on the ground and stamped it into fragments with my foot. I undid the dead man s golden
collar, then took his shield, his axe and his knife and waved those trophies towards his men, who stood
watching silently. My men were dancing and howling their glee. Last of all I stooped and unbuckled his
heavy bronze greaves which were decorated with images of my God, Mithras.
I stood with my plunder. Send the children! I shouted at the Saxons.
Come and fetch them! a man called back, then with a swift slash he cut a child s throat. The other
two children screamed, then they too were killed and the Saxons spat on their small bodies. For a
moment I thought my men would lose control and charge across the saddle, but Issa and Niall held them
to the rampart. I spat on Wulfger s body, sneered at the treacherous enemy, then took my trophies back
up the hill.
I gave Wulfger s shield to one of the levy, the knife to Niall and the axe to Issa. Don t use it in battle,
I said, but you can chop wood with it.
I carried the golden collar to Ceinwyn, but she shook her head. I don t like dead men s gold, she
said. She was cradling our daughters and I could see she had been weeping. Ceinwyn was not a woman
to betray her emotions. She had learned as a child that she could keep her fearsome father s affections
by being bright-natured, and somehow that habit of cheerfulness had worked itself deep into her soul, but
she could not hide her distress now. You could have died! she said. I had nothing to say, so I just
crouched beside her, plucked a handful of grass and scrubbed the blood from Hywelbane s edge.
Ceinwyn frowned at me. They killed those children?
Yes, I said.
Who were they?
I shrugged. Who knows? Just children captured in a raid.
Ceinwyn sighed and stroked Morwenna s fair hair. Did you have to fight?
Would you rather I had sent Issa?
No, she admitted.
So yes, I had to fight, I said, and in truth I had enjoyed the fight. Only a fool wants war, but once a
war starts then it cannot be fought half-heartedly. It cannot even be fought with regret, but must be
waged with a savage joy in defeating the enemy, and it is that savage joy that inspires our bards to write
their greatest songs about love and war. We warriors dressed for battle as we decked ourselves for love;
we made ourselves gaudy, we wore our gold, we mounted crests on our silver-chased helmets, we
strutted, we boasted, and when the slaughtering blades came close we felt as though the blood of the
Gods coursed in our veins. A man should love peace, but if he cannot fight with all his heart then he will
not have peace.
What would we have done if you had died? Ceinwyn asked, watching as I buckled Wulfger s fine
greaves over my boots.
You would have burned me, my love, I said, and sent my soul to join Dian. I kissed her, then
carried the golden collar to Guinevere, who was delighted by the gift. She had lost her jewels with her
freedom, and though she had no taste for heavy Saxon work, she placed the collar about her neck.
I enjoyed that fight, she said, patting the golden plates into place. I want you to teach me some
Saxon, Derfel.
Of course.
Insults. I want to hurt them. She laughed. Coarse insults, Derfel, the coarsest that you know.
And there would be plenty of Saxons for Guinevere to insult, for still more enemy spearmen were
coming to the valley. My men on the southern angle called to warn me, and I went to stand on the
rampart beneath our twin banners and saw two long lines of spearmen winding down the eastern hills into
the river meadows. They started arriving a few moments ago, Eachern told me, and now there s no
end to them.
Nor was there. This was no warband coming to fight, but an army, a horde, a whole people on the
march. Men, women, beasts and children, all spilling from the eastern hills into Aquae Sulis s valley. The
spearmen marched in their long columns, and between the columns were herds of cattle, flocks of sheep
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