Will shrugged. 'I suppose that's as good a plan as any.'
‘Just don’t get your hopes up – you are fairly pathetic.’
‘Excellent – thanks again.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Bridget said. She took in a deep breath, straightened up and turned back towards him. ‘Listen… I’m sorry about keeping my distance from you today. I really wanted to see if you were okay after your first kill and everything, but I just thought that being seen with someone almost as unpopular as you would just make things worse.’
‘You’re not great at building up my confidence, you know,’ Will said but he gave a small smile. It felt surprisingly important that Bridget hadn’t been avoiding him because she’d thought he was a coward.
Bridget smiled back. ‘Just toughening you up. So, are you okay? The first time you have to kill is horrible, but it gets easier or at least, you can stop yourself from thinking about it so much and…’ She stopped and shrugged. ‘What do I know – it’s just what I’ve heard warriors say.’
‘I’m fine,’ Will said. ‘Thanks for trying to be nice.’
Bridget nodded. ‘We’d better get back. The skirmishers have returned from their jolly ride on borrowed horses far too good for them. There’s nothing for five miles along the wall each way. It looks like the entire Wall garrison has been killed or fled but at least there are no Picts either. Your fellow heroes will be getting ready to leave right about now, I’d say.'
Will climbed to his feet, stiff after an hour’s rest out in the open.
‘How did you know where I was?’ Will asked. He had hurried past Hrothgar’s lobbers stationed on the Anvil’s walls to find some peace in the first non-manned tower. A couple of the guards had warned they might mistake him for a dirty Pict if he came back and accidentally throw an axe or two into his head. Apart from those new friends, no one knew he was up here.
Bridget smiled up at him as she slid passed and smoothly started down the narrow ladder. ‘I know everything that goes on, everywhere, all the time – remember?’
Will smiled back. ‘Yeah – sorry about that. I think I’ll actually kind of miss you stalking me for the next few days.’
Bridget disappeared down into the guardroom, the shadows swallowing her up. Her voice floated back up to him. ‘Maybe, maybe not.’
Chapter 10
“Push Off, Nithing!”
They left at midnight, without torches and moving bent-over and close together to hide their departure.
Across the Anvil, on the wall stretching away far to the west, a line of torches clearly showed a party marching away. They were heading towards the section of wall guarded by Rheged, their neighbouring Celtic kingdom, eighteen miles away.
This was meant to be a diversion – the Angalsax running for help from their nearest, if fairly hostile, ally. It made Will’s skin crawl to think there might be Pict or druid eyes out there in the forests, watching them, following them along the wall.
‘Move, keep up,’ came a hissed whisper from behind.
Iver, one of Osbert’s hand-picked lobbers, shoved his javelin tip at Will. The twelve-inch steel tip was wrapped in sackcloth to stop any glinting, but it still hurt. Will quickly focussed forward and picked up his pace.
It was hard, jogging bent over in the shadows, trying to keep his head lower than the merlons, but at least it was better than the crawling they had done over the first hundred yards. Will focussed on the perfectly laid stones that topped the wall, worn smooth by over four hundred years of Romani, then Angalsax feet patrolling them. His balance was good, very good, but it was still easy to get short of breath, become dizzy and stumble the four steps or so to fall over the open-sided, inner edge of the Romani wall.
He dared to straighten up just a little and took in an easier breath. In front of him, Donal, ran easily and silently as he didn’t have as far to bend down as he did.
Short-ass Will thought. Osbert had given him responsibility for the Pict boy. Donal was to stay with them, silent and obedient, or his sister would suffer when King Godric and the warbands rejoined them in Yeavering. Hopefully, Donal’s hatred of the Pict clans who had slaughtered his family and friends would be enough to keep him in line.
In the faint moonlight and wall shadow, Will could only clearly see two other wobbling backs ahead of Donal. They were two of Godric’s best huscarls – Bada and Eadwald. Each of the big men laboured under the weight of chainmail, a heavy oak shield strapped to his back, a long, wide-bladed fighting spear, a javelin and sword. Ahead of them, nothing but bobbing shapes in the shadows, were fourteen others with Rowenna somewhere in the middle. Two Shields, two more lobbers, Gwen the Second of the skirmishers and another one called Wade and then Osbert, Bragg, Brant, Wyett and Puck.
Eighteen in all. Eighteen of them in a race to the capital against four whole clans of Pict warriors.
Will knew all of them hated the fact that Rowenna had insisted he join the party. They all thought he was a dead weight and likely to get them killed.
Apart from Puck, maybe. But why was the jester-cum-advisor with them, anyway?
Will pushed away his doubts and concentrated on moving. He could at least run far and fast if need be – battle-runner then warrior training had made doubly sure of that. They had twenty miles to travel before reaching the River Fort. Most of the skirmishers and lobbers with them should be able to keep up a decent pace but Will wondered how long the heavily armed huscarls and Shields could keep going.
The first watch tower loomed up before them through wisps of mist drifting down from the highlands. They crouch-ran to the thick wooden doors. The lobbers stationed there held them open and they scuttled into the guardroom. It was dark inside so no light fell on the wall top to give them away. Will grabbed the chance to stretch for a couple of steps before bending down again as Iver shoved him forward and out of the far door.
They kept up the crouch-run past the second manned tower a third of a mile later and then on through the deserted one where he and Bridget had been talking.
Then they were truly on their own. The fearsome might of two Angalsax warbands – four hundred Shields and two hundred lobbers and skirmishers – was gone, lost to the night and undulations of the wall. Before them lay over twenty-four hours of deserted wall, rushing river and shadowed forest with a nation of Picts, druids and vargs racing them south.
A hand-signal flashed back through the warriors ahead and Donal turned to pass it on – straighten up, move in twos, stay close together. The Pict boy’s dark eyes caught Will’s for a moment, unreadable as usual, before he silently dropped back beside him. Will could only imagine how the boy felt having to leave his little sister behind with the enemy. Her safety relied on him telling his enemies everything he knew about his own people’s battle tactics and strengths.
Will gave him a tight smile. Not a friend in the world. I’m only one or two ahead of you.
Will gratefully stretched his aching back as the pace picked up to a steady jog and the party closed up into a black mass. Hopefully, if there were any Picts watching the Anvil, they wouldn’t be looking this far from it. If there were, running like this should disguise their true numbers in the dark.
Will tried to spot Rowenna in the bustling, heavy breathing huddle of shadows. There was nothing to single her out. Her golden hair was hidden by a dark scarf and the only jewel she had brought from the capital – a thin golden tiara – had been left with her father. He couldn’t spot her but Brant’s tall form and even the outline of his massive double axe blade, bobbed above the other silhouettes. He wouldn’t be more than a step away from the princess, keeping her safe.
Will stopped searching for her and concentrated on his breathing – he wouldn’t be the one to slow them down. This could be his chance to finally be accepted into Angalsax society. If he did well here, surely they would let him train for the shield wall.
Will looked over to the dark forests that now ran to either side. They would need extra fighters in the ranks. A full
Pict invasion hadn’t happened for almost fifty years. Most of the thegns from the middle and south of the kingdom thought the threat was over and the constant heavy manning of the Romani wall was a waste of their soldiers’ time.
It looked like they had been right but for very different reasons. Four entire warbands spread over Bernicia’s forty-mile section of wall hadn’t managed to stop the Picts at all. He wondered if any Angalsax had survived.
They carried on running. Will dropped his left hand to unhitch Rowenna’s practice blade from his belt. The unfamiliar weight and its swinging with each step were making running difficult – it would be easier to carry it. Sweat ran down to the small of his back now and for once, he was grateful for the cold northern wind gusting through his clothes and hair. He was fit, but the extra weight of the sword was beginning to take its toll. Concentrating on not falling off the narrow wall, slick with mist, in the dark, as it rose and fell over the hills wasn’t helping either.
Finally, they stopped.
The group huddled together in the shadow of another watchtower, breathing hard and loosening their clothing. It was maybe the twelfth or thirteenth tower they had passed, Will had lost count. A third of a mile beyond the tower, there lay the dark mass of a mile-fort. It was much smaller than the Anvil but still big enough for well over fifty men to live and work in. Nobody talked – they had covered maybe five miles and had another fifteen to go.
If they weren’t all killed first.
Will peered through the heads and raised waterskins and finally spotted Rowenna. She was drinking and looking over at the Pict lands but as she lowered her waterskin she turned and caught his eye. She glanced around to see if anyone was watching then gave him a quick smile and mouthed “Are you all right?”
Will’s heart missed a beat. Even hot and sweaty, Rowenna was still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He smiled back and nodded.
‘Your head falling off, boy?’ came a harsh whisper in his ear. It was Alston, the second of the two lobbers running rear-guard behind him. His mate, Iver, grinned oafishly as he peered around his much taller companion, and caressed one of his two javelins with thick fingers.
‘Just easing my neck,’ Will whispered back. He refused to step away from the man and stood up as tall as he could. Alston still towered over him and his thin face leaned in again.
‘I don’t know why you’re with us, orphan,’ he whispered. ‘No one wants you here – you’re dead weight and will only slow us down.’
‘I’d better save my breath, then,’ Will whispered back and turned away from him.
Rowenna was gone. She and most of the others had slipped into the tower out of the gusting wind. The two other lobbers in the party, lank-haired twins called Wilfrid and Wilfor, had stayed outside. Now they stood in front of him, blocking his way into the tower. Wilfor quietly pulled the thick wooden door shut, nodding to someone inside as he did so.
Alston was at his ear again. ‘You’re getting way above your station, nithing – you fancy yourself as Rowenna’s little protector like your heathen master, don’t you?’
One long-fingered hand slipped around Will’s arm and closed like a vice. Lobbers had ridiculously strong arms and hands from years of javelin, throwing axe and bow training.
‘Is there a problem with that?’ Will asked. He twisted in Alston’s grip and eased himself back against a merlon so he could see all four lobbers. ‘We’re all here to see her back safely to Yeavering… aren’t we?’ He tried to keep his voice level and to deepen it. These were four of the best lobbers in Godric’s army, swift and deadly with any missile and battle-hardened against both Pict and Scandian sea raiders. He needed them to see they were on the same side.
‘She should only have her own kind watchin’ over ‘er,’ Iver growled, stepping up beside Alston. His small, sharp eyes glared at Will as he slowly slipped the sacking off one of his javelin tips.
One of the twins, Wilfrid, slipped up close and gripped Will’s other arm. Tall and lanky, Wilfred’s grip was still almost as strong as Alston’s. ‘You’re looking tired, nithing.’
‘All that running.’ His twin, Wilfor, chipped in as he held the door handle, keeping it tightly closed.
‘Tired enough to make you dizzy,’ Wilfred said.
‘Dizzy enough to fall off the edge,’ Wilfor added.
‘The fall probably won’t kill you,’ Alston whispered in his ear, his hot breath coming a little faster now, ‘but we can’t take you along with a broken leg, now can we?’
‘Shame your little savage isn’t out here,’ Wilfred said.
‘He’s next – back to his own side,’ Wilfor added, glancing down the twelve-yard drop into Scotia. ‘Head-first.’
Will snatched in a breath to cry for help but the lobbers shoved him over the edge before he could make a sound.
Chapter 11
Fall from Grace
Will dropped his spear and made a grab for Alston’s thick belt as one foot stepped into thin air.
He missed the belt, but his fingers clamped around the haft of one of the throwing axes. Will yanked himself back onto the wall but Wilfred shoved him towards the edge again as Alston peeled his fingers off the axe handle with his iron hard grip.
Will scrabbled against them but his feet slid over the smooth stone and the open edge raced towards him. He hooked one foot around Alston’s ankle but Iver kicked his leg free.
His foot slid over the edge again.
A shadow dropped out of the night sky and landed silently beside him. One hand lashed out, grabbed Alston’s hand, effortlessly twisted it off Will and swung the big man towards the wall edge.
‘Are we dancing?’
Puck. He’d jumped down from the tower top, six feet above them.
The jester pulled Will back on the wall with one hand even as the other swung Alston’s torso over the edge and back around Will to crash into the stunned Wilfred.
Will broke out of Wilfred’s grip and leapt back to the wall just as Puck twisted Alston’s wrist in some way. The lead-lobber flipped head-over-heels tumbled into Iver.
‘I love a good spin, spinderoo,’ Puck said, laughing like a lunatic. ‘Who’s next?’
The tower door jerked out of Wilfor’s hand and a second later he was shoved forward, sending him stumbling towards the edge.
Quick as a snake, Puck grabbed one arm and pulled him back onto the wall.
Osbert burst through the door.
“What the gods is all the noise out here?’ he hissed, looking over the sprawled-out lobbers scrabbling to their feet.
‘Just showing them how to stretch, oh champion-one,’ Puck said, dropping to the floor and bending double to touch his head to his knees. He turned his face to look up at the giant Osbert with a huge grin. ‘It eases their muscles for more lovely run-running.’
Osbert glared over them all, his mouth twisting in disdain. His baleful stare stopped on Alston. ‘You’re meant to lead these idiots – even low-life lobbers shouldn’t mix with outsiders. Keep them in order.’
‘Yes sir,’ Alston growled and flicked his eyes over to Will. ‘It won’t happen again.’
‘Useless chuckers!’ Osbert growled. ‘I knew I should have just brought Shields. At least the skirmishers have done their job right – the fort’s clear.’
He grabbed both twins and shoved them through the door into the tower. ‘Get back into formation – we’re moving.’
He stormed back into the tower.
Puck rolled backwards onto his feet and guided Will quickly through the door with a surprisingly strong steer.
Will tried to ignore the muffled threats from behind him as the party started to file out of the other side of the tower.
*** ***
‘What really happened back at that first stop?’ Rowenna asked quietly. ‘Don’t give me any of Puck’s nonsense about stretching.’
Will realised he was staring at her full red lips and quickly dropped his gaze.
The two of them stood in t
he shadows of another watchtower, catching their breath and relishing the cool of a soft, damp mist. It was an hour before dawn - the River Fort was just five miles further on.
They were almost alone. They had stopped for a quarter-hour food break whilst the skirmishers, Gwen and Wade, scouted out another fort. Will had kept to himself and stayed outside the guardroom whilst the others all rested inside. A few moments later, Rowenna had come out to the wall with just Bada and Eadwald guarding her.
The two huscarls now stood a few yards away, chewing on the dried meat Cook had packed for all of them and talking quietly.
Will swallowed. He couldn’t tell Rowenna that all four of her lobbers had tried to throw him off the wall. If she disciplined them, sent them back to the Anvil even, it would seem like she was taking sides against her own people and she desperately needed the skills and loyalty of everyone here.
‘We… just had a bit of a disagreement,’ Will said quietly. ‘Puck calmed things down, that’s all.’ Will glanced up at the top of the tower. The lobber twins were up there, keeping watch.
Rowenna glanced at him then turned away again. They stood a couple of feet apart, seemingly peering into the wilds of Scotia. Appearances had to be kept up.
‘Honestly, Will, you’ve got to try harder to fit in. I argued hard to have you come with us – you’ve shown your bravery and I wanted you to have a chance to prove you can work with others. Look at your master – he’s an outsider but he has learned to avoid trouble and risen to be always at the king’s side… or mine.’ She glanced across at the two shields and edged a little closer to him. ‘Can’t you see I’m trying to help you to… get where we both want you to be?’
Will turned to gaze over the dark mass of forest on the Bernician side of the wall. This was so unfair. Even Brant had given him one of his silent “disappointed” looks after the scuffle. He took in a slow breath, calmed himself.
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