* * * * *
Edwin was choking. His face was purple, and his feet were kicking vainly a yard above the ground as he dangled from the gate, when a hail of arrows hissed down from the darkness, and sent three Welsh warriors staggering to the ground.
‘We’re under attack!’ a guard barked. ‘Defend yourselves!’
A rush of feet came from the darkness beyond the gate. The guard who held Edwin’s rope let go, and turned to face the attackers.
Edwin hit the mud in the middle of the gateway, and went rolling down the slope beyond. Helpless to stop himself, he passed warriors who were charging past to hurl themselves at the rapidly closing gate.
Someone stumbled over Edwin, and fell, cursing. Edwin scrabbled at the rope around his throat.
‘Who’s that?’ the man demanded. From his voice, Edwin recognised him as Llewellyn, one of Hywel’s henchmen. He tried to reply, but all that came out was a wheezing gargle.
Llewellyn seized him, and heaved him to his feet.
‘Aren’t you the Saxon, Edgwynn?’ he said. ‘We heard your horn and took it as the signal to attack. What’s been happening to you, then?’
Edwin weakly indicated the noose. Llewellyn shot a glance at the stronghold, where his fellows were fighting their way through the gates, then turned Edwin round and began to loosen the rope.
‘What happened?’ he asked again, as he tore the rope away. Edwin doubled over and began to retch and cough.
He was still retching when more warriors surrounded them. Someone had set fire to part of Caradawg’s stronghold, and the red light danced on their faces. Edwin forced himself to stand up.
Hywel confronted him, his face stern. ‘Who is this?’ he demanded.
‘It’s Edgwynn,’ said Llewellyn, ‘the Saxon who gave the signal.’
Without warning, Hywel punched Edwin. The thief collapsed into the mud. The king leaned over, and grabbed him by the collar. ‘You were supposed to give the signal when we had a chance of killing Caradawg!’ Edwin tried to reply, but could do no more than retch. ‘But when we entered the stronghold, it was swarming with Caradawg’s warriors - too many for us to take on - and there was no sign of Caradawg! What happened?’
Edwin gasped for breath, as the king loomed over him, the distant firelight transforming his sombre face into a demon mask.
‘They’re sallying forth!’ shouted one of Hywel’s men.
The king turned angrily away. ‘We’ll get nothing from this Saxon traitor,’ he said, his voice calm. ‘Someone kill him. Then we must flee.’
‘No!’ Edwin croaked finally. ‘Things went wrong!’
The warriors of King Caradawg were pouring out of the blazing stronghold. Hywel looked indecisive.
‘Take him,’ he said finally. ‘Bring him with us. But quick, now! Back to the horses!’
With Caradawg’s men almost at their heels, Hywel’s warriors led towards the road. Edwin stumbled alongside them, supported by Llewellyn. They soon reached the horses in the trees beside the road, and they mounted them hurriedly. Edwin leapt up behind Llewellyn.
Leaving Caradawg’s men at the edge of the fields, the warriors cantered up the road and into the depths of the forest.
The Sword of Wayland Page 34
