'Lady Cynethryth, we have our orders. The Norseman cannot live,' Hunwald said, kneeling to cut Cynethryth free so that the others could deal with me.
'It's not your fault, Hunwald,' Cynethryth said, standing and rubbing her red wrists. 'Though it is no wonder my father left you behind. He needs men with him who can think for themselves. Not worms who fear their own shadows.'
Hunwald ignored the insult though it was obvious it stung his pride. 'Go back to your father's hall, girl,' he said disrespectfully, 'and be grateful that I will send one of my men to escort you. Go now. Or, if you prefer,' he said, turning to me, 'you may stay to watch us open this dog's belly.' He grinned with a malice that did not suit his face. I struggled against the rope binding my wrists, ice-cold fear squeezing my heart because I was about to die a dishonourable death, unarmed and unnoticed by Óðin's dark maidens. I was more afraid than I had ever been, and I tried to hide my fear by shouting insults at those who gathered to kill me.
'You are sons of Welsh whores! You're pig snot! Dogs and bastards!' Just as I was about to die Cynethryth screamed and threw her arms round Hunwald's neck and he did not throw her off because he felt the blade of her eating-knife at his windpipe.
'Get away from him!' she screamed at the Wessexmen. 'I'll rip Hunwald's throat out! Stay back!' The others stopped dead.
'Careful, Cynethryth!' I said. There was blood at Hunwald's throat. 'Don't kill him before I get free.'
'Get away!' she screamed again and this time the others backed off, holding their hands up. 'Hunwald, throw your knife to Raven.'
'You mad bitch,' Hunwald squeaked under his breath. 'You're a dead whore now.'
'Give him your knife! I won't say it again!' she shouted. Hunwald drew his long knife and threw it to the shingle. I shuffled over and cut through the ropes, then exchanged places with Cynethryth and held the knife at Hunwald's throat, my other arm round his chest. I could feel him trembling through his leather armour.
'Take his sword, Cynethryth,' I said, which she did, forcing it into my empty scabbard because it did not fit well. Then she fetched two spears and my own sword from a rock by the shelters and stood beside me, gripping the weapons with white knuckles.
'You going to stand there till judgement day, Norseman?' Hereric sneered. He was pockmarked and ugly and I hoped I would be able to kill him. 'Because I'd like to see that, I would. You'll get tired, and then we'll spill your guts across the beach for the gulls. Yours too, bitch,' he said to Cynethryth.
'Not before we've fucked the life from you,' another warrior shouted with a childish grin. He was the youngest, by the look of him, and his eyes sought the other men's approval. But they ignored him.
'Throw down your blades,' I said, forcing Hunwald's chin up with the knife.
'Don't do it, lads,' Hunwald muttered through clenched teeth, trying to regain his courage, for the others had seen the terror in his face.
'You want me to cut your throat, Englishman?' I hissed.
'You won't do that,' Hereric answered for him, shaking his bald head. 'You know what they'll do to the bitch. Or do you think you can take all twelve of us?'
Some of the men laughed. Others threatened me. All itched to hack me to death.
So we waited, the Wessexmen not attacking for fear I would kill Hunwald, but knowing that it was a simple matter of time before they got what they wanted. Some of them would get more than they wanted, I promised myself. Some would die.
The sun had burned the sky red and orange and gilded the rolling waves out at sea when the Wessexmen began to grow restless. My arm burned from holding the knife at Hunwald's throat, but I did not know what else to do, and now I could see in some of the men's faces that they were building up to come for me even though it would mean Hunwald's death. I had heard Bjarni say that boredom can kill a man and I smiled grimly at the memory, because boredom was about to kill Hunwald.
Cynethryth had stuck my sword in the sand so that she could grab it easily and she still clutched the spears, watching, still sharp. My peregrine, I thought. Not once did she seek their favour or pity. She had planted her banner and proved as steadfast as any warrior I have ever known. But it was getting dark, the western sun throwing our shadows like thin, misshapen giants across the salt marsh. Like all hunters the Wessexmen saw in the approaching night their ally. Soon then they would come at us from all sides and in my heart I knew I would be lucky to kill a single one other than Hunwald. But Hunwald would die. Whatever the Norns had woven, they could not unpick that thread.
A horse whinnied. I looked across at the Wessexmen's mounts which were tethered to stakes driven into the sand at the top of the beach where they could feed on sea lavender and viper's bugloss. But the beasts were not eating now. They flared their nostrils and dragged their forelegs across the shingle, rattling the stones. Another whinny, the noise shrill against the low breath of the surf. The Wessexmen looked around nervously.