The Last Kingdom Series Books 1–8: The Last Kingdom, The Pale Horseman, The Lords of the North, Sword Song, The Burning Land, Death of Kings, The Pagan Lord, The Empty Throne. Bernard Cornwell

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СКАЧАТЬ I went on, ‘only twenty-four. So how many men can he have? No more than a thousand, and we killed a few, and others must have died in the winter.’

      ‘We think he has eight hundred,’ Harald said reluctantly.

      ‘And how many men in the fyrd? Two thousand?’

      ‘Of which only four hundred are seasoned warriors,’ Harald said. That was probably true. Most men of the fyrd are farmers, while every Dane is a sword-warrior, but Svein would never have pitted his eight hundred men against two thousand. Not because he feared losing, but because he feared that in gaining victory he would lose a hundred men. That was why he had stopped plundering and made his truce with Odda, because in southern Defnascir he could recover from his defeat at Cynuit. His men could rest, feed, make weapons and get horses. Svein was husbanding his men and making them stronger. ‘It was not my choice,’ Harald said defensively. ‘The ealdorman ordered it.’

      ‘And the king,’ I retorted, ‘ordered Odda to drive Svein out of Defnascir.’

      ‘What do we know of the king’s orders?’ Harald asked bitterly, and it was my turn to give him news, to tell how Alfred had escaped Guthrum and was in the great swamp.

      ‘And some time after Easter,’ I said, ‘we shall gather the shire fyrds and we shall cut Guthrum into pieces.’ I stood. ‘There will be no more horses sold to Svein,’ I said it loudly so that every man in the big hall could hear me.

      ‘But …’ Harald began, then shook his head. He had doubtless been about to say that Odda the Younger, Ealdorman of Defnascir, had ordered the horses to be sold, but his voice trailed away.

      ‘What are the king’s orders?’ I demanded of Steapa.

      ‘No more horses,’ he thundered.

      There was silence until Harald irritably gestured at the harpist who struck a chord and began playing a melancholy tune. Someone began singing, but no one joined in and his voice trailed away. ‘I must look to the sentinels,’ Harald said, and he threw me an inquisitive look which I took as an invitation to join him, and so I buckled on my swords and then walked with him down Ocmundtun’s long street to where three spearmen stood guard beside a wooden hut. Harald talked to them for a moment, then led me further east, away from the light of the sentinels’ fire. A moon silvered the valley, lighting the empty road until the track vanished among trees. ‘I have thirty fighting men,’ Harald said suddenly.

      He was telling me he was too weak to fight. ‘How many men does Odda have in Exanceaster?’ I asked.

      ‘A hundred? Hundred and twenty?’

      ‘The fyrd should have been raised.’

      ‘I had no orders,’ Harald said.

      ‘Did you seek any?’

      ‘Of course I did.’ He was angry with me now. ‘I told Odda we should drive Svein away, but he wouldn’t listen.’

      ‘Did he tell you the king ordered the fyrd raised?’

      ‘No.’ Harald paused, staring down the moonlit road. ‘We heard nothing of Alfred, except that he’d been defeated and was hiding. And we heard the Danes were all across Wessex, and that more were gathering in Mercia.’

      ‘Odda didn’t think to attack Svein when he landed?’

      ‘He thought to protect himself,’ Harald said, ‘and sent me to the Tamur.’

      The Tamur was the river which divided Wessex from Cornwalum. ‘The Britons are quiet?’ I asked.

      ‘Their priests are telling them not to fight us.’

      ‘But priests or no priests,’ I said, ‘they’ll cross the river if the Danes look like winning.’

      ‘Aren’t they winning already?’ Harald asked bitterly.

      ‘We’re still free men,’ I said.

      He nodded at that. Behind us, in the town, a dog began howling and he turned as if the noise indicated trouble, but the howling stopped with a sharp yelp. He kicked a stone in the road. ‘Svein frightens me,’ he admitted suddenly.

      ‘He’s a frightening man,’ I agreed.

      ‘He’s clever,’ Harald said, ‘clever, strong and savage.’

      ‘A Dane,’ I said drily.

      ‘A ruthless man,’ Harald went on.

      ‘He is,’ I agreed, ‘and do you think that after you have fed him, supplied him with horses and given him shelter, he will leave you alone?’

      ‘No,’ he said, ‘but Odda believes that.’

      Then Odda was a fool. He was nursing a wolf cub that would tear him to shreds when it was strong enough. ‘Why didn’t Svein march north to join Guthrum?’ I asked.

      ‘I wouldn’t know.’

      But I knew. Guthrum had been in England for years now. He had tried to take Wessex before, and he had failed, but now, on the very brink of success, he had paused. Guthrum the Unlucky, he was called, and I suspected he had not changed. He was wealthy, led many men, but he was cautious. Svein, though, came from the Norsemen’s settlements in Ireland and was a very different creature. He was younger than Guthrum, less wealthy than Guthrum, and led fewer men, but he was undoubtedly the better warrior. Now, bereft of his ships, he was weakened, but he had persuaded Odda the Younger to give him refuge and he gathered his strength so that when he did meet Guthrum he would not be a defeated leader in need of help, but a spear-Dane of power. Svein, I thought, was a far more dangerous man than Guthrum, and Odda the Younger was only making him more dangerous.

      ‘Tomorrow,’ I said, ‘we must start raising the fyrd. Those are the king’s orders.’

      Harald nodded. I could not see his face in the darkness, but I sensed he was not happy, yet he was a sensible man and must have known that Svein had to be driven out of the shire. ‘I shall send the messages,’ he said, ‘but Odda might stop the fyrd assembling. He’s made his truce with Svein and he won’t want me breaking it. Folk will obey him before they obey me.’

      ‘And what of his father?’ I asked. ‘Will they obey him?’

      ‘They will,’ he said, ‘but he’s a sick man. You saw that. It’s a miracle he lives at all.’

      ‘Maybe because my wife nurses him?’

      ‘Yes,’ he said, and fell silent. There was something odd in the air now, something unexpressed, a discomfort. ‘Your wife nurses him well,’ he finished awkwardly.

      ‘He’s her godfather,’ I said.

      ‘So he is.’

      ‘It is good to see her,’ I said, not because I meant it, but because it was the proper thing to say and I could think of nothing else. ‘And it will be good to see my son,’ I added with more warmth.

      ‘Your son,’ Harald said flatly.

      ‘He’s СКАЧАТЬ