by Peter Fox
Saeric found Leofwynn in the inner yard of Dunstan’s burgh, practising blade-craft with one of the soldiers who had been at the Easter service. Saeric watched her for a while, impressed by the young woman’s skills with the dagger. He was surprised that Leo was allowed to partake in such a masculine activity, but perhaps it was one of the secrets she kept from her father.
Leo must have sensed Saeric, for she suddenly stopped and turned. Her face instantly broke into a grin of delight. She handed the blade to her tutor and bounded over to Saeric, whipping off her glove and thrusting her hand out to the Briton in welcome. It was all that Saeric needed, and he felt a surge of relief that he had been so easily forgiven.
‘Uncle told me never to ask you anything about your past, so I promise I won’t. And I’m very sorry I upset you at Easter. Can we still be friends?’
Her plea was so heartfelt that Saeric felt deep shame for his actions. ‘I was hoping you’d forgive me,’ he said, ‘although I don’t deserve it. I’m sorry I… attacked you.’
Leofwynn shrugged. ‘Well, no surprise really, given what we did to you and your fam…’ She slapped her hand over her mouth, wincing at her indiscretion.
Saeric rolled his eyes. ‘Listen, you can’t change what happened to me, and yes, it was terrible beyond words. Maybe I’ll want to talk about it one day. Maybe not. But right now, I’ll just get angry, and probably try to hurt you again. So, yeah, it’s best you try to remember not to ask.’ He smiled to break the tension. ‘As I said to Heremund, I need time to work things out.’
Leofwynn nodded, smiling back. ‘Yeah, you were really scary. Father said you’re lucky that Gerard over there didn’t shoot you, and that he wouldn’t have hesitated. I promise to try my best to remember,’ she said, then as an afterthought added, ‘may I visit you in the smithy?’
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘Because your father will cut off my head if he finds out you’ve been anywhere near me.’
Leo shrugged. ‘He’s away now for months, hopefully years.’ She winced in mock apology at her honesty. ‘He’s off with the King, fighting somewhere in the north. So, can I come to visit?’
‘Can I stop you?’ Saeric asked, giving in. ‘Heremund will drag you in to help if you’re not careful.’
Leofwynn grinned back. ‘No, he knows how clumsy I am.’ She winked at Saeric. ‘I dropped a lot of things early on, so he ordered me to stay away. What’s in there, by the way?’ She pointed at the sack at Saeric’s feet.
‘A ploughshare. I have to deliver it to a yeoman called Hunlaf. Heremund said you could tell me where to find him.’
‘Oh, that’s easy, just follow this road northwest. It’s about an hour’s ride, at most. You can’t miss it…’ She stopped on seeing Saeric’s worried expression. ‘How about I come with you?’
‘No!’ Saeric blurted. ‘We’ll both get in trouble, especially me.’
‘I’ve already told you. Father is away, and you don’t know where you’re going.’
‘I’ll work it out. And don’t you have more important things to do?’
‘What, other than accompanying a servant on a menial delivery?’ She shook her head and laughed at Saeric. ‘You need to stop acting like a slave. And anyway, I’m the third born daughter, remember. I’ve nothing to do every day. You have no idea how bored I am!’
‘Aren’t you meant to look after the estate in your father’s stead?’
Leo let out a short laugh, but Saeric could see that he had hit a raw nerve. ‘He doesn’t trust me, so he has an overseer do that. I’m just an empty-headed girl to him.’
‘Oh,’ Saeric said, feeling sorry for the young woman. ‘Well, you may as well guide me then.’
‘Where’s your horse?’ Leofwynn asked, looking behind Saeric.
Saeric laughed. ‘I’m walking,’ he said.
Leofwynn gawped at Saeric, appalled. ‘Uncle didn’t let you ride?’
‘He didn’t offer it as an option.’
‘Why ever not? Well, let’s see about a horse for you then. You can borrow one of my brother’s.’
‘No!’ Saeric blurted, then blushed when Leofwynn looked at him, surprised.
‘You don’t want to walk, do you? Peasants go on foot. Nobles ride. We’ve got plenty of decent mounts here, and no one’s going to complain.’
‘I’d really rather walk,’ Saeric said.
‘No, we’re riding,’ Leo said obstinately.
‘I don’t know how,’ Saeric blurted, deciding just to get the admission out and be done with it.
Leofwynn reacted just as Saeric feared, her expression changing from surprise to mirth. ‘You’re kidding me,’ she said, grinning, then she burst out laughing when Saeric blushed even more.
‘No,’ Saeric muttered, feeling humiliated. It’s even worse than that, he thought, but I will die before I admit that I’m terrified of the bloody animals.
‘Okay,’ Leofwynn said, struggling to wipe the smile from her face. Mercifully she decided not to press the matter. ‘I guess we’ll walk then.’
Saeric waited while Leofwynn told the huscarl her plans. The soldier nodded and handed Leofwynn her dagger. The young woman strapped on her scabbard and sheathed the blade. One of the servants appeared with her tunic, also adorned with the family crest, a belt pouch and cap. Leofwynn made sure everything was right then they set off up the road on foot, the young Saxon noblewoman finding the whole situation extremely amusing. Gerard joined them as they were leaving the compound, insistent that he accompany them both.
‘We don’t need an escort,’ Leo said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.
‘Perhaps not, my Lady,’ he said smoothly, ‘but I think it best I attend as a chaperon, no?’ He winked at Saeric.
Leo reluctantly accepted the intrusion, but she made a point of locking her arm in Saeric’s as they walked up the road out of town.
Despite being the subject of Leo’s gentle mockery, Saeric enjoyed his companion’s easy fellowship, and his anxiety lessened with the young Saxon at his side and Gerard trailing along behind them. The sun was out, and the day was warm, carrying no hint of the coming autumn. As a result, the road was busy, with mules, the odd horseman, an ox-train, and a steady stream of people of various ages and trades making their way to and from Scirburne. After about an hour they come upon a small hamlet; barely a handful of buildings centred around a large well. A cluster of people gathered at an ale stall in the village centre by the well. Leofwynn said, ‘time for refreshment,’ and she ordered and paid for three tankards of dark ale. Saeric realised he had no money, but Leofwynn told him not to worry about it. They sat down in the sun, enjoying its warmth.
‘You know that Gerard was going to kill you for attacking me?’ Leo said, referring to the huscarl.
Saeric nodded, a wry smile on his face. ‘Heremund told me he gave the order to shoot me.’
Leo winced. ‘Sorry about that. Good thing Gerard ignored him.’
Saeric shrugged. ‘I’ve been stabbed and shot so many times I doubt it would’ve made any difference.’
Leo took a swig of her ale. ‘Well, thanks for not throwing me off the palisade,’ she said.
Saeric held up his mug. ‘Any time.’
‘The only reason you’re sitting here now,’ Gerard piped in, ‘is because my finger got stuck in the string.’ He too raised his mug, a wry smile lighting his face.
‘So, are you staying then?’ Leofwynn asked Saeric. ‘With my uncle, I mean.’
Saeric nodded.
Leo grinned. ‘Phew! Uncle Heremund was so worried that you’d leave. He likes you a lot, you know. So do I.’ She looked down into her nearly-empty tankard. ‘This ale is strong,’ she said.
‘Thanks, I think,’ Saeric said.
The young Saxon let out a sigh. ‘You’re lucky. You have a trade. I wish I knew what I wanted to do.’
‘Do you have to do anything?’ Saeric asked, pointing at the embroidered crest on Leo’s tunic. ‘You’ll be getting
married off to some important Lord surely? Before you know it, you’ll be busy bearing him lots of Saxon children.’
Leo laughed. ‘That sounds like so much fun. My brother has been trying to match me up with all sorts of ugly old men. He can’t wait to kick me out when he inherits, which he’ll do regardless of whether or not I’ve been married off. He doesn’t like me much.’ She snorted, then corrected herself. ‘At all.’ She wrinkled her nose, then looked him up and down. ‘Smithing certainly hasn’t done you any harm,’ she observed quite inappropriately, smiling at him demurely. ‘Perhaps I could marry you?’
‘I think your father might have something to say about that,’ Saeric said, ‘and none of it would be polite.’
‘Then you should at least let me come to watch you work,’ she said, rubbing her hand on his muscular shoulder, taking far too much interest in its form and firmness. ‘I’ll bet it’s awfully hot and sweaty in there.’
Saeric shook his head, half embarrassed, and, dare he admit it, half aroused.
‘I think we should get going,’ he said.
Leofwynn gulped down the remnants of her ale and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. She waved at a serving boy for more beer, then sighed again. ‘I wish I’d been born a boy.’
Saeric felt Leo’s deep hurt. ‘I’m so sorry, Leo,’ he said. ‘I thought your father was a better man than that.’
‘No, don’t think badly of him,’ Leofwynn said quickly, waving her hand at Saeric. ‘He has a lot of responsibilities and is frustrated that I can’t be helpful to him.’ She nodded at Saeric’s mug, and the serving boy refilled it. Gerard held his out too.
‘That’s ridiculous. There must be something you’re good at?’
Leo smiled mischievously. ‘I keep one of the stable boys amused,’ she said, winking.
Saeric shook his head at the young woman, more than a little shocked by her admission.
‘You look jealous!’ she laughed. ‘But is it of the stable boy or me?’
Saeric didn’t know what to say.
Leofwynn raised her eyebrows. ‘The serving girls are quite pretty. Gerard here has his eye on a couple of them, don’t you Gerard?’
The huscarl smiled knowingly, but wisely remained silent.
‘You should pop in on your way back,’ Leo suggested. ‘They’re a lot of fun. Sometimes Gerard has two of them at a time. Actually, there’s a lass in the scullery who would suit you perfectly.’ She threw Saeric a conspiratorial smile and cupped her hands suggestively, sloshing her ale as she did so.
For a brief instant, Saeric found himself imagining a buxom young woman with laughing eyes lying on the straw beneath him, but suddenly her face was supplanted by the witch Eanswith, and he shuddered. He shook his head to clear away the image.
Leofwynn saw it and frowned. ‘You okay?’ she asked. ‘Did I say something wrong?’ She paused, then her eyes widened. ‘Oh!’ he said, coming to a realisation. ‘You prefer boys?’
Saeric didn’t get a chance to respond, because Leo blurted, ‘I could ask the stable boy for you. I don’t think he’d mind. He seems to like all sorts of things.’
‘Leo!’ Saeric protested angrily, his face reddening with embarrassment as he caught the disapproving glances of the other people nearby. ‘I don’t need to you to arrange… women for me. And I don’t like boys. You’ve got it all wrong.’ And you’ve had way too much to drink under this hot sun.
‘Oh. See, I’m no good even at that,’ she said, crestfallen, then realised that everyone was looking at them. ‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry,’ she muttered.
‘Come on, let’s get going,’ Saeric said, standing and picking up the heavy sack, throwing the other people a dark scowl. Poor Leo, he thought. How hard it must be to be you.
They walked in silence for a while, Leofwynn brooding at her drunken clumsiness.
‘Leo,’ Saeric said, unable to endure the tension that hung between them any longer. ‘I’d be happy for you to introduce me to the maidservant.’ He was lying, but it just didn’t seem fair that Leofwynn should punish herself for Saeric’s hang-ups.
‘You would?’ she asked, her face brightening. ‘Not the stable boy?’
Saeric couldn’t help but smile. ‘Definitely not the stable boy. He’s all yours.’
Leofwynn nodded, looking relieved. ‘Thank goodness. The Bishop says that sodomy is a grievous sin.’
‘It is,’ Saeric said.
That’s you doomed then, said the Devil, choosing this moment to join the conversation. Of course, you could teach the boy a thing or two. Why don’t you show him how it’s done? He might find he enjoys it, like you.
Shut up!
Or you could kill the girl. That way she wouldn’t keep upsetting you.
Stop telling me to kill everyone!
‘Saeric?’
‘What?’ Saeric snapped, then realised it had been Leofwynn who’d spoken. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered.
‘It’s okay,’ Leo said. ‘You don’t have to pretend. I don’t mind if you prefer boys. I’ll still be your friend.’
‘I DON’T LIKE BOYS!’ Saeric shouted, then he dropped his voice self-consciously. ‘In the name of…’ He stopped mid-sentence, noticing something ahead of them. It took him a moment for his brain to register what he was seeing. ‘Look out!’ he shouted, shoving the girl aside.
An arrow whistled past his shoulder; so close that Saeric heard the whoosh of air in its passing. He heard Gerard cry out from behind as the arrow caught the huscarl in the arm. Gerard yelled at Saeric and Leo to turn around and take cover in the trees, then he led the way diagonally across the road, looking over his shoulder as he wrenched the arrow from his arm.
They had all been so engrossed in their conversation that they hadn’t noticed they’d come upon a bend where the road dipped down to a ford. Suddenly two travellers, a man and woman, burst into view from around the corner, shouting.
‘Bandits!’ they cried. ‘Flee!’
A horseman appeared from the bend behind them and ran the woman down. Saeric saw the rider’s expression change from a scowl to a triumphant sneer when he spotted the finely dressed noblewoman and her retainers. Their attacker kicked his heels into the horse’s flanks and charged at them, shouting to unseen companions around the corner. Gerard leapt past Saeric, whipping out his sword to defend them.
This should be fun, said the Devil. Remind you of someone?
Suddenly Saeric saw her, the witch Eanswith on her mount, charging at him when he had emerged from the river.
I suggest you kill this one, advised the Devil.
How?
You have a weapon.
Saeric looked down at the bag in his hand. So I do, he realised. He ran after Gerard, ignoring Leo’s distraught cry.
Saeric held his eyes on the rider, ignoring the horse and noting in which hand his assailant held his sword. Ahead of him, Gerard raised his own sword, but the horseman showed no intention of slowing or altering his course. Gerard came to the same realisation a fraction too late, and the horse barrelled into him, flinging the huscarl aside.
Saeric stood his ground and waited until the last moment before he stepped out of the way and swung the heavy bag at horse and rider as it glanced past him. The bag missed the rider but grazed the horse on its rump. It whinnied and skittered sideways, which was enough to throw its rider off-balance, and he lost his seat and tumbled onto the road. The horse – undoubtedly stolen – snorted and trotted off, indignant at its mistreatment. Saeric’s relief was short-lived, however. The brigand deftly sprang to his feet, but rather than attack Saeric, he instead chose Gerard, in the mistaken belief that the soldier presented the greater threat.
Saeric charged at the dark-haired outlaw, swinging the heavy bag around his head, shouting abuse at him in the hope it would distract him from his attack on the disarmed Gerard. For a moment Saeric thought he had failed, but the bandit hesitated, then he abandoned Gerard and turned to defend himself. He had his eyes on the bag, so didn’t notice Saeric draw his dagg
er with his other hand. Just as he came into sword-range, Saeric raised his blade, and the bandit’s eyes flicked to the new danger. Too late he realised the distraction, and the bag with its forged iron contents slammed into his upper body, snapping his arm with an audible crack. The man screamed in pain, dropped his sword and staggered sideways. Swinging the bag around in a smooth follow-through action, Saeric pivoted on his right foot and came in again, his target the man’s head. This time his aim was perfect. The bag with its heavy iron contents collided with the brigand’s temple. The man flew sideways and flopped onto the road, his skull caved in by the impact.
Excellent work, said the Devil, impressed.
As Saeric allowed himself to pivot a third time to control his balance, he heard shouts and a scream from behind him. He came about to see Leofwynn being dragged away by another assailant. Gerard snatched up his sword and flew at Leo’s attacker, but a second man appeared from the trees and cut Gerard off.
How many are there? Saeric wondered as he ran to Gerard’s aid.
Not so many that you can’t manage, said the Devil.
Gerard swung at his opponent, but his injury from the arrow was obviously worse than he’d realised because he misjudged his swing and opened himself to attack. The brigand was armed with a heavy mace, studded with iron spikes. He hit Gerard square in the chest, lifting the huscarl off his feet and sending him flying backwards into the shrubbery by the side of the road. Gerard landed on his back with a thud, and he lay unmoving, unconscious or dead, as his sword span away into the undergrowth. Either the brigand was distracted by his victory, or he had dismissed the danger posed by the unarmed servant, but whatever the reason, when he turned towards Saeric he received the ploughshare-laden sack at full swing in the middle of his face. His nose burst in a spray of blood and his head snapped back, toppling the man over onto the ground beside Gerard.
