'We have important news for the king,' he said to the older of two guards who stood either side of the open gateway. They gripped long spears and wore leather armour, and they looked us up and down, seemingly unimpressed by our mail and arms.
'What news?' the guard asked, leaning the point of his spear towards Mauger. 'What business do you have with the king?' The younger man was staring at my blood-eye, so I turned to fix him with it and he looked away.
'What I have to say is for my king, Coenwulf the Strong,' Mauger blurted, 'not for some little prick who ought to know he's unworthy to hear words meant for the Lord of Mercia, hammer of the Welsh and future king of Wessex. May your rotten tongue fall out, you worthless arse leaf.'
The guard blanched and stiffened and for a moment I thought he would turn his spear on Mauger for which he would die, but he must have known this too, for he stretched his neck awkwardly and then turned to the younger man.
'Stay here, Cynegils. No one gets in, understand, lad? Not even the bishop of bloody Worcester with a box of forgiveness.' He looked us up and down once more and shrugged. 'Come on then,' he said. He turned, spear in hand, and marched into King Coenwulf's stronghold, and we followed him.
The place was full of noise. A watermill creaked and an iron corn-grinding wheel moaned. Chickens clucked about on ground churned to mud by countless feet. Pigs grunted and cattle lowed and goats munched on tufts of new grass. At least two forge hammers rang out, men and women called from house to house, horses whinnied, children played, and infants cried. I felt as though I was drowning.
'Wait here,' the guard said, striding off towards two more warriors in leather armour, who guarded the door of Coenwulf's hall. One of them disappeared inside. An old grey hunting dog came to sniff at Mauger's boot, but he kicked the beast and it looked at me as though wondering how I could let such a thing happen, before padding back to flop down beside the hall's entrance. The guard reappeared.
'King Coenwulf, Lord of Mercia, hammer of the Welsh and warrior of the true faith, grants you an audience. You will remove all blades before entering the king's hall.' We left our swords and knives with the guards and entered the dark interior, coughing from the smoke slung among the thick old beams of Coenwulf's hall. At the far end sat the king himself on an ornately carved throne. Behind him were tapestries depicting a warrior with wings and a great flaming sword. The needlework was poor, but the image was striking none the less. Between us and the king a woman stood stirring a cauldron suspended above the central hearth, and two young girls sat in a corner sewing by sooty candlelight.
Coenwulf beckoned us forward. He was flanked by two huge warriors, both wearing mail and iron helmets and holding great ash spears.
Mauger cleared his throat. 'My lord king,' he began, 'it is a great honour . . .'
Coenwulf grimaced and batted the words away with ringed fingers. There was a brief silence as he shifted in his throne, then he twirled a finger, summoning Mauger to continue.
'We have come from Eoferwic in the north of your kingdom, my lord,' Mauger said, ditching the formalities, 'and we bring word that King Eardwulf is burning your land. That whoreson has killed many good men and we only left the fight when all was lost.' The king was scowling now. 'My lord, it was no easy thing to leave, but we knew our duty was to inform you of Eardwulf's treachery,' Mauger pressed on. 'I only pray Christ forgives us for not giving our lives avenging the innocents.'
'Eardwulf has broken the treaty?' Coenwulf asked, leaning forward in his throne and staring at Mauger with dark, brooding eyes. He had a warrior's build and his face was scarred. One of the wall-mounted torches spluttered and went out, distracting the king for a moment. 'Why have not my spies informed me of this treachery?' he asked, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip. 'Unless the sly dog has dug them out and slit their throats.'
'So it is as I feared and we are the first to bring this news,' Mauger said, glancing at me, his expression all gloom. Then he shook his head slowly and I was impressed by the warrior's guile, for I had thought him a brute, no more than a grizzled fighter. I would remember he was more. 'I fear our kinsmen gave their lives and even now lie dead on the field.' Mauger made the sign of the cross and I stared at Coenwulf, not daring to look at Mauger for fear of pulling a thread from the weave of his lie.
The king sat back in silence, scratching his black beard.
'We of Eoferwic have kept our spears sharp, my king, ever watchful of our faithless northern neighbours,' Mauger said, 'but most of your people there are farmers, not warriors. We were ill prepared for an invasion.' Mauger's shoulders slumped and he suddenly seemed exhausted.