The Lords of the North by Bernard Cornwell Page B

like a king. He never enjoyed fighting, and he was far less

experienced in battle than I, but he knew he had to make this killing himself or else men

would say he sheltered behind my sword. He managed it well enough. His horse stumbled just

before he met Kjartan's man, but that was an advantage for the stumble veered him away from

the enemy whose wild blow swept harmlessly past Guthred's waist while Guthred's own

desperate hack struck the man's wrist, breaking it, and after that it was a simple matter

to ride the enemy down and chop him to death. Guthred did not enjoy it, but knew he had to do

it, and in time the killing became part of his legend. Songs were sung how Guthred of

Northumbria slew six evildoers in combat, but it had been only one man and Guthred was lucky

that his horse had tripped. But that is good in a king. Kings need to be lucky. Later, when we

got back to Cair Ligualid, I gave him my father's old helmet as a reward for his bravery and

he was pleased. I ordered Rypere to kill the second man which he did with an encouraging

relish. It was not hard for Rypere because the second man was a coward and only wanted to

surrender. He threw away his sword and knelt, shivering, calling out that he yielded, but I

had other plans for him. 'Kill him!' I told Rypere who gave a wolfish grin and chopped down

hard. We took the twelve horses, stripped the two men of their armour and weapons and left

their corpses for the beasts, but first I told Clapa to use his sword to cut off their heads.

Clapa stared at me with ox-eyes. 'Their heads, lord?'
    he asked.
    'Chop them off, Clapa,' I said, 'and these are for you.' I gave him two of Tekil's arm

rings.
    He gazed at the silver rings as though he had never seen such wonders before.
    'For me, lord?'
    'You saved our lives, Clapa.'
    'It was Rypere who brought us,' he admitted. 'He said we shouldn't leave the king's side and

you'd gone away so we had to follow.'
    So I gave Rypere the other two rings, and then Clapa chopped at the dead men and learned how

hard it is to cut through a neck, but once the deed was done we carried the bloody heads back to

Cair Ligualid and when we reached the ruined town I had the first two corpses pulled from the

stream and decapitated.
    Abbot Eadred wanted to hang the four remaining prisoners, but I persuaded him to give

me Tekil, at least for a night, and I had him brought to me in the ruins of an old building

which I think must have been made by the Romans. The tall walls were made of dressed stone and

were broken by three high windows. There was no roof. The floor was made of tiny black and

white tiles that had once made a pattern, but the pattern had long been broken. I made a fire

on the biggest remaining patch of tile and the flames threw a lurid flicker on the old walls.

A wan light came through the windows when clouds slid away from the moon. Rypere and Clapa

brought Tekil to me, and they wanted to stay and watch whatever I did to him, but I sent them

away.
    Tekil had lost his armour and was now dressed in a grubby jerkin. His face was bruised and

his wrists and ankles were joined by the slave manacles he had intended for me. He sat at the

far end of the old room and I sat across the fire from him and he just stared at me. He had a

good face, a strong face, and I thought that I might have liked Tekil if we had been comrades

instead of enemies. He seemed amused by my inspection of him. 'You were the dead swordsman,'

he said after a while.
    'Was I?'
    'I know the dead swordsman wore a helmet with a silver wolf on the crown, and I saw the

same helmet on you,' he shrugged, 'or perhaps he lends you his helmet?'
    'Perhaps he does,' I said.
    He half smiled. The dead swordsman scared Kjartan and his son halfway to death, but that's

what you intended, isn't it?'
    That's what the swordsman intended,' I said.
    'Now,' he said, 'you've cut off the heads of four of my men and you're going to