The Pale Horseman

'If you let me go,' Æthelwold asked sulkily, 'what's to stop me going back to Guthrum?'

'Absolutely nothing,' I said, ‘except the certainty that I'll hunt you down and kill you.'

He thought about that for a short while. 'You're sure my uncle will welcome me?'

Pyrlig answered for me. 'With open arms!' he said. 'It will be like the return of the prodigal son.

You'll be welcomed by slaughtered calves and psalms of rejoicing. Just tell Alfred what you told us, about Guthrum marching towards us.'

We reached the Wilig and the going was easy now for the light of the campfires was much brighter. I cut Æthelwold free at the edge of the encampment, then gave him back his swords. He carried two, as I did, a long one and a short sax.

'Well, my prince,' I said, 'time to grovel, eh?'

We found Alfred at the camp's centre. There was no pomp here. We did not have the animals to drag wagons loaded with tents or furniture, so Alfred was seated on a spread cloak between two fires.

He looked dispirited and later I learned that he had assembled the army in the twilight and made them a speech, but the speech, even Beocca admitted, had been less than successful. It was more a sermon than a speech,' Beocca told me glumly. Alfred had invoked God, spoken of Saint Augustine's doctrine of a righteous war and talked about Boethius and King David, and the words had flown over the heads of the tired, hungry troops. Now Alfred sat with the leading men of the army, all of them eating stale hard bread and smoked eel. Father Adelbert, the priest who had accompanied us to Cippanhamm, was playing a lament on a small harp. A bad choice of music, I thought, then Alfred saw me and waved Adelbert to silence. 'You have news?' he asked.

For answer I stood aside and bowed to Æthelwold, gesturing him towards the king. 'Lord,' I said to Alfred, 'I bring you your nephew.'

Alfred stood. He was taken aback, especially as Æthelwold was plainly no prisoner for he wore his swords. Æthelwold looked good, indeed he looked more like a king than Alfred. He was well made and handsome, while Alfred was much too thin and his face was so haggard that he looked much older than his twenty-nine years. And of the two it was Æthelwold who knew how to behave at that moment.

He unbuckled his swords and threw them with a great clatter at his uncle's feet, then he went to his knees and clasped his hands and looked up into the king's face.

'I have found you!' he said with what sounded like utter joy and conviction.

Alfred, bemused, did not know what to say so I stepped forward.

‘We discovered him, lord,' I said, 'in the hills. He was searching for you.'

'I escaped Guthrum,' Æthelwold said, 'God be praised, I escaped the pagan.' He pushed his swords to Alfred's feet. 'My blades are yours, lord king.'

This extravagant display of loyalty gave Alfred no choice except to raise his nephew and embrace him. The men around the fires applauded, then Æthelwold gave his news, which was useful enough.

Guthrum was on the march and Svein of the White Horse came with him. They knew where Alfred was and so they came, five thousand strong, to give him battle in the hills of Wiltunscir.

'When will they get here?' Alfred wanted to know.

'They should reach these hills tomorrow, lord,' Æthelwold said.

So Æthelwold was seated beside the king and given water to drink, which was hardly a fit welcome for a prodigal prince and caused him to throw me a wry glance, and it was then that I saw Harald, shire-reeve of Defnascir, among the king's companions.

'You're here?' I asked surprised.

'With five hundred men,' he said proudly.

We had expected no men from either Defnascir or Thornsaeta, but Harald, the shire-reeve, had brought four hundred of his own fyrd and a hundred more from Thornsaeta.

'There's enough men left to protect the coast against the pagan fleet,' he said, 'and Odda insisted we help defeat Guthrum.'

'How is Mildrith?'

'She prays for her son,' Harald said, 'and for all of us.'

There were prayers after the meal. There were always prayers when Alfred was around, and I tried to escape them, but Pyrlig made me stay.

'The king wants to talk with you,' he said.

So I waited while Bishop Alewold droned, and afterwards Alfred wanted to know whether Æthelwold had truly run away from the Danes.

'That's what he told me lord,' I said, 'and I can only say we found him.'

'He didn't run from us,' Pyrlig offered, 'and he could have done.'

'So there's good in the boy,' Alfred said.

'God be praised for that,' Pyrlig said.

Alfred paused, gazing down into the glowing embers of a campfire.

'I spoke to the army tonight,' he told us.

'I heard you did, lord,' I said.

He looked up at me sharply. 'What did you hear?'

'That you preached to them, lord.'

He flinched at that, then seemed to accept the criticism. 'What do they want to hear?' he asked.

'They want to hear,' Pyrlig answered, 'that you are ready to die for them.'

'Die?

‘They follow, kings lead,' Pyrlig said. Alfred waited. 'They don't care about Saint Augustine,' Pyrlig went on, 'they only care that their women and children are safe, that their lands are safe, and that they'll have a future of their own. They want to know that they'll win. They want to know the Danes are going to die. They want to hear that they'll be rich on plunder.'

'Greed, revenge and selfishness?' Alfred asked.

'If you had an army of angels, lord,' Pyrlig went on, 'then a rousing speech about God and Saint Augustine would doubtless fire their ardour, but you have to fight with mere men, and there's nothing quite like greed, revenge and selfishness to inspire mortals.'

Alfred frowned at that advice, but did not argue with it.

'So I can trust my nephew?' he asked me.

'I don't know that you can trust him,' I said, 'but nor can Guthrum. And Æthelwold did seek you out, lord, so be content with that.'

'I shall, I shall.' He bade us goodnight, going to his hard bed.

The fires in the valley were dying.

'Why didn't you tell Alfred the truth about Æthelwold?' I asked Pyrlig.

'I thought I would trust your judgement,' he answered.

'You're a good man.'

'And that constantly astonishes me.'

I went to find Iseult, then slept.

Next day the whole of the northern sky was dark with cloud, while over our army, and above the hills, was sunlight.

The West Saxon army, now almost three and a half thousand strong, marched up the Wilig, then followed the smaller river that Pyrlig and I had explored the previous evening. We could see the Danish scouts on the hills, and knew they would be sending messengers back to Guthrum.

I led fifty men to one of the hilltops. We were all mounted, all armed, all with shields and helmets, and we rode ready to fight, but the Danish scouts yielded the ground. There were only a dozen of them and they rode off the hill long before we reached the summit where a host of blue butterflies flickered above the springy turf. I gazed northwards at the ominous dark sky, and watched a sparrow hawk swoop. Down the bird went, and I followed its plunging fall and suddenly saw, beneath the folded wings and reaching claws, our enemy.