'Find my son, Raven,' Ealdred said. He looked past me at the warriors assembling, his face expressionless behind the long moustache, though I thought I caught a hint of doubt in those hard eyes.
I nodded. 'I'll find him, lord. Then I'll be back for my jarl's silver.' Ealdred held my eye for a moment, then nodded, and I watched his back as he walked away towards his daughter.
'Don't even think about it, lad,' Penda said, following my eyes to Cynethryth. 'Ealdred would have someone like me cut your throat for even dreaming about her lily white arse.' But I watched Cynethryth anyway, until she flushed and tugged on her father's sleeve, drawing his attention elsewhere so he would not notice my staring. Then, as the sun rose higher in the east, casting its brilliance on to helmets and spear blades and shield bosses, I and thirty men of Wessex marched out of Ealdorman Ealdred's fortress.
After the first few miles, the levy men began a drinking song and I thought of the Norsemen who were always singing, yet by the time the sun began to slip from his throne the only sounds were of boots striking the earth, sword scabbards banging against shield rims, and iron and leather fittings jangling and creaking. I was sweating heavily in Glum's brynja and helmet, carrying his shield across my back and his sword at my waist, and I prayed to Týr Lord of Battle that I would not dishonour the fine arms as Glum had. That dog had betrayed his lord and his Fellowship and I imagined his one-armed soul wandering the afterlife, spurned even by his ancestors. Surely such as he would have no place in Valhöll at Óðin's mead bench. But if he was amongst the chosen, I wondered what would happen when the Valkyries bore Sigurd son of Harald to the All-Father's hall. For not even death can turn aside vengeance, and the ancient beams of Valhöll would shake then and their dust would fall like dry rain upon the living.
We crossed streams still swollen from the winter rains and marched through forests of oak, ash, and elm, even cutting through a great enclosure used by kings of Wessex for hunting red deer. We tramped through meadows where white lady's smock grew so thick it looked like a mantle of fresh snow, and crossed fields where knapweed and marsh bedstraw were losing their heads to grazing sheep. That night, we ate well and slept soundly and next morning we woke to another fine day full of the noise of marsh tits and song thrushes. Swallows twisted and turned effortlessly, plucking winged insects from the sky, whilst yellow wagtails as gold as dandelions ran nimbly between the feet of grazing cattle. Life was everywhere in a day that gave no whisper of the death to come.
The Wessexmen resented me. It was in their eyes and in the way they looked to Penda to lead them. But I had expected as much, for I was an outlander to them and had never stood beside them in the shieldwall. Furthermore, I was a pagan and a Norseman, and Englishmen have always despised both.
By the third day, we had left King Egbert's kingdom and I found myself once again in Coenwulf's land, in Mercia. At dusk a man called Eafa made his feelings towards me plain.
'Hey, Egric, did you know that Norsemen screw their neighbours' pigs? Not their own, for that is considered uncivil, but they screw their neighbours' animals. Did you know that?'
'No, I did not,' Egric said, glancing at me. 'Why would they do that?'
'Because the pigs don't smell as bad as their women,' Eafa said.
It was not the first insult Eafa had aimed at me, but at last the man had found the courage to speak them loud and plain rather than letting them escape like farts. The other men laughed, their own way of slighting me.
'Are you going to let that prick make a fool of you?' Penda mumbled. Eafa was a fletcher by trade and a big man, but his bulk came from fat, not muscle.
'You think I should put my spear down his throat?' I asked, scanning the sun-touched hills for Mercians or Welsh raiders.
'I try not to think, lad,' Penda growled, 'but the men won't stand with you in the shieldwall if they think you're a coward.' I knew Penda included himself in this and for a moment I was tempted to open Eafa's belly to show Penda I was no coward. Instead I turned and Eafa's eyes widened as I rammed the butt of my spear into his gut, making him double over. Then I brought the haft down on his helmeted head and winced because I thought I might have killed him. But Eafa had a fat head, too, and he struggled to his hands and knees, shaking his head and moaning.
'We have too few men as it is, Penda,' I said loud enough for the others to hear. 'I'd be a fool to kill one of them, even a useless pig's bladder like Eafa. Better to let the Welsh do it.' Eafa was in no state to fight me and I don't know that he would have in any case, because I had embarrassed him once and once was enough for Eafa. Some of the men cursed me and others helped the fletcher to his feet, but none made a move against me, and I was relieved. I had taken a risk and it had paid off.