The Flame Bearer (The Last Kingdom Series, Book 10) by Bernard Cornwell Page B
Authors: Bernard Cornwell
Tags: Historical fiction, thriller, Historical, Literature & Fiction, Thrillers, Action & Adventure, Crime, Mystery, Military, War & Military, Genre Fiction, War, Thrillers & Suspense, Thriller & Suspense, Heist
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wait till he reaches the stone? Why kill him in view of the fort?’
‘You’re probably right,’ I said, and that thought gave me a little comfort even as it mystified Finan even further. ‘But tomorrow he’ll probably send scouts here,’ I was talking to Eadric now, ‘just to look at the land before Woden’s day, so tell your men to get out of here before dawn.’
I sounded certain, but of course the doubts harried me. On Woden’s day would Brunulf search the wood before riding through it? Eadric was right, it was a large wood, but a horseman could gallop along the edges quickly enough, even if searching the thick undergrowth would take time. But I could see nowhere else that would serve as well for an ambush. ‘And why,’ Finan asked me again, ‘do you want to ambush him here at all? You’ll just attract three hundred angry Saxons from the fort! If you wait till he’s at the stone,’ he jerked his head back towards the steading, ‘we can slaughter the lot of them and no one in the fort will know a thing. They won’t see it!’
‘That’s true,’ I said, ‘that’s very true.’
‘So why?’ he asked.
I grinned at him. ‘I’m thinking like my enemy. You should always plan your battles from the enemy’s point of view.’
‘But …’
I hushed him. ‘Not so loud. You might wake three hundred angry Saxons.’ There was no chance of waking men so far away, but I was enjoying mystifying Finan. ‘Let’s go this way,’ I said, and led my companions westwards, walking on the open ground beside the tree line. By daylight we would have been seen from the fort’s walls, but I doubted our dark clothing would show against the black loom of the dense wood. The ground sloped towards the river, and it was a deceptive slope, steeper than it appeared. If one of Brunulf’s scouts rode this way he would soon lose sight of the track and would surely conclude that no one planning an ambush against men on the road would wait in this lower wood, simply because they could not see their prey. That gave me some hope. ‘We won’t need more than fifty men,’ I said, ‘all of them mounted. We’ll conceal them in these lower trees and have some scouts higher up the slope to tell us when Brunulf is almost at the wood.’
‘But …’ Finan began again.
‘Fifty should be enough,’ I interrupted him, ‘but that really depends on how many men leave the fort tomorrow.’
‘Fifty men!’ Finan protested. ‘And the West Saxons have over three hundred.’ He jerked his head southwards. ‘Three hundred! And only a mile away.’
‘Poor innocent bastards,’ I said, ‘and they have no idea what’s about to happen to them!’ I turned back towards the track. ‘Let’s try and sleep.’
Instead I lay awake, worrying I might be wrong.
Because if I was, Northumbria was doomed.
I grew angry the next day.
The Lady Æthelflaed, ruler of Mercia, had made peace with Sigtryggr, and Sigtryggr had yielded valuable land and formidable burhs to secure that peace. That surrender of land had offended some of the powerful Danish jarls in southern Northumbria, and those men were now refusing to serve him, though whether that meant they would refuse to fight when the invasion came was something we did not yet know. What I did know was that West Saxon envoys had witnessed the treaty, they had travelled to Ledecestre’s church to see the oaths taken, and they had brought written approval from King Edward for the peace his sister had negotiated.
No one was fooled, of course. Sigtryggr might have purchased peace, but only for a while. The West Saxons had conquered East Anglia, making that once proud country part of Wessex, while Æthelflaed had restored the frontier of Mercia to where it had been before the Danes came to ravage Britain. Yet the years of war had left the armies of Wessex, Mercia, and Northumbria blood-battered, and so the peace treaty had been largely welcomed because it gave all three countries a chance to
‘You’re probably right,’ I said, and that thought gave me a little comfort even as it mystified Finan even further. ‘But tomorrow he’ll probably send scouts here,’ I was talking to Eadric now, ‘just to look at the land before Woden’s day, so tell your men to get out of here before dawn.’
I sounded certain, but of course the doubts harried me. On Woden’s day would Brunulf search the wood before riding through it? Eadric was right, it was a large wood, but a horseman could gallop along the edges quickly enough, even if searching the thick undergrowth would take time. But I could see nowhere else that would serve as well for an ambush. ‘And why,’ Finan asked me again, ‘do you want to ambush him here at all? You’ll just attract three hundred angry Saxons from the fort! If you wait till he’s at the stone,’ he jerked his head back towards the steading, ‘we can slaughter the lot of them and no one in the fort will know a thing. They won’t see it!’
‘That’s true,’ I said, ‘that’s very true.’
‘So why?’ he asked.
I grinned at him. ‘I’m thinking like my enemy. You should always plan your battles from the enemy’s point of view.’
‘But …’
I hushed him. ‘Not so loud. You might wake three hundred angry Saxons.’ There was no chance of waking men so far away, but I was enjoying mystifying Finan. ‘Let’s go this way,’ I said, and led my companions westwards, walking on the open ground beside the tree line. By daylight we would have been seen from the fort’s walls, but I doubted our dark clothing would show against the black loom of the dense wood. The ground sloped towards the river, and it was a deceptive slope, steeper than it appeared. If one of Brunulf’s scouts rode this way he would soon lose sight of the track and would surely conclude that no one planning an ambush against men on the road would wait in this lower wood, simply because they could not see their prey. That gave me some hope. ‘We won’t need more than fifty men,’ I said, ‘all of them mounted. We’ll conceal them in these lower trees and have some scouts higher up the slope to tell us when Brunulf is almost at the wood.’
‘But …’ Finan began again.
‘Fifty should be enough,’ I interrupted him, ‘but that really depends on how many men leave the fort tomorrow.’
‘Fifty men!’ Finan protested. ‘And the West Saxons have over three hundred.’ He jerked his head southwards. ‘Three hundred! And only a mile away.’
‘Poor innocent bastards,’ I said, ‘and they have no idea what’s about to happen to them!’ I turned back towards the track. ‘Let’s try and sleep.’
Instead I lay awake, worrying I might be wrong.
Because if I was, Northumbria was doomed.
I grew angry the next day.
The Lady Æthelflaed, ruler of Mercia, had made peace with Sigtryggr, and Sigtryggr had yielded valuable land and formidable burhs to secure that peace. That surrender of land had offended some of the powerful Danish jarls in southern Northumbria, and those men were now refusing to serve him, though whether that meant they would refuse to fight when the invasion came was something we did not yet know. What I did know was that West Saxon envoys had witnessed the treaty, they had travelled to Ledecestre’s church to see the oaths taken, and they had brought written approval from King Edward for the peace his sister had negotiated.
No one was fooled, of course. Sigtryggr might have purchased peace, but only for a while. The West Saxons had conquered East Anglia, making that once proud country part of Wessex, while Æthelflaed had restored the frontier of Mercia to where it had been before the Danes came to ravage Britain. Yet the years of war had left the armies of Wessex, Mercia, and Northumbria blood-battered, and so the peace treaty had been largely welcomed because it gave all three countries a chance to
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