Sword of Kings. Bernard Cornwell

at that. ‘He’s safe home in Wiltunscir. He hired these bastards.’

      The bastards were in a line now, spread across our path. Three of the ships looked to be about the size of Spearhafoc, while the fourth, which was furthest east, was smaller, no bigger than Banamaðr. That ship, seeing us race southwards, was lagging as if reluctant to join a fight. We were still far away, but it seemed to me that the smaller ship had very few crewmen.

      Unlike the three larger ships, which kept coming towards us. ‘They’re well manned,’ Finan said calmly.

      ‘Egil’s Scotsman said there were about forty men in the ship that stopped him.’

      ‘I’d guess more.’

      ‘We’ll find out.’

      ‘And they have archers.’

      ‘They do?’

      ‘I can see them.’

      ‘We have shields,’ I said, ‘and archers like a steady ship, not a boat pitching like an unbroken colt.’

      Roric, my servant, brought me my helmet. Not the proud helmet with the silver wolf crouching on its crest, but a serviceable helm that had belonged to my father and was always left on board Spearhafoc. The metal cheek-pieces had rusted and been replaced with boiled leather. I pulled the helmet over my head and Roric laced the cheek-pieces so that an enemy would see nothing but my eyes.

      Three of the ships bore no symbols on their sails, though the craft furthest west, closest to the unseen Northumbrian coast, showed a coiled snake, which, like our wolf, was probably woven from wool. The huge slab of cloth was reinforced with rope that made a diamond pattern through which the black snake showed. I could see the water shattering white at her bow.

      Egil had turned Banamaðr so, instead of feigning a clumsy flight west towards the harbours of the Northumbrian coast, he was now sailing south next to Spearhafoc. Like me he had hoisted his sail, his crew just sheeting it home as we came abreast of him. I cupped my hands and shouted across the churning water. ‘I’m aiming for the second one!’ I pointed to the ship nearest the snake-sailed vessel. Egil nodded to show he had heard. ‘But I’m going to attack the snake one!’ I pointed again. ‘You too!’

      ‘Me too!’ he called back. He was grinning, his fair hair streaming from beneath his helmet’s rim.

      The enemy had spread into a line so that any two of their ships could close on one of ours. If that notion had worked they could board us from both sides at once and the sword-work would be brief, bitter, and bloody. I let them think that plan would succeed by heading slightly off the wind towards the second ship from the west and saw the other two larger ships slightly change their direction so that they were headed towards the place where they thought we would meet their line. They were still spread out, at least four or five ships’ lengths between each, but their line was shrinking. The smaller ship, slower than the others, lagged further behind.

      Egil’s ship, slower than mine because she was shorter, had fallen behind, and I ordered the steerboard sheet to be loosened to slow Spearhafoc, then turned and waved to Egil, pointing to my steerboard side, indicating he should come up on that flank. He understood, and slowly the Banamaðr crept up to my right. We would go into battle together, but not where the enemy hoped.

      ‘Christ!’ Finan swore. ‘That big bastard has a lot of men!’

      ‘Which big bastard?’

      ‘The one in the centre. Seventy men? Eighty?’

      ‘How many on the snake bastard?’

      ‘Maybe forty, fifty?’

      ‘Enough to frighten a merchantman,’ I said.

      ‘They don’t seem frightened of us,’ he said drily. The three larger ships were still coursing towards us, confident that they outnumbered us. ‘Be careful of that big bastard,’ Finan said, pointing to the middle ship, the one with the larger crew.

      I gazed at the ship, which had a lime-washed cross mounted high on its prow. ‘Doesn’t matter how many they have,’ I said, ‘they reckon we only have forty men.’

      ‘They do?’ he seemed amused by my confidence.

      ‘They tortured Haggar. What could he tell them? They’d have asked how often our ships go to sea and how many men crewed them. What would he have said?’

      ‘That you keep two warships in the harbour, that Spearhafoc is the bigger one, and usually has a crew of forty, but sometimes not so many.’

      ‘Exactly.’

      ‘And that usually it’s Berg who takes her to sea.’

      Berg was Egil’s youngest brother, and I had saved his life on a Welsh beach many years before and, ever since, he had served me well and faithfully. Berg had been disappointed to be left behind on this voyage, but with Finan and me at sea, he was the best man to command Bebbanburg’s remaining garrison. I would usually have left my son in charge, but he was in the central hills of Northumbria to settle a dispute between two of my tenants.

      ‘They think we’re about forty men,’ I said, ‘and they’ll reckon Banamaðr at about thirty.’ I laughed, then touched the hilt of Serpent-Breath, my sword, before shouting across to Egil. ‘Turn now!’ I heaved the steering-oar to windward and Spearhafoc dipped her prow as she slewed around. ‘Tighten the sail!’ I shouted. The trap was sprung, and now the snake would discover how the wolf and the eagle fought.

      I had tightened Spearhafoc’s sail to quicken her again. She was faster than the enemy’s ships. I could see the weed thick on the snake-ship’s bottom whenever she reared on a wave. She was slow. We dried our ships out on a falling tide and scraped their lower hulls clean, which kept us fast. I turned back towards Banamaðr. ‘I plan to sink the bastard,’ I shouted, ‘then go east after the second one!’

      Egil waved, and I assumed he had heard me. Not that it mattered, Spearhafoc was pulling ahead, she was as close to the wind as I dared take her, but she was carving her swift path, she was breaking the sea white at her cutwater. She was as deadly as her name now, and Egil would realise soon enough what I planned.

      ‘You’re going to ram her?’ Finan asked.

      ‘If I can, and I want you in the prow. If I don’t hit her right you’ll need to get aboard her and kill their helmsman. Then ditch their steering-oar.’

      Finan went forward, shouting at men to follow him. We were closing on the snake-ship now, near enough to see a group of men in her bow and see the spears they carried. Their helmets reflected the light. One clung to the forestay, another hefted his spear. There was a group of archers in the belly of the boat, arrows already on their strings. ‘Beornoth!’ I shouted, ‘Folcbald! Come here! Bring your shields!’ Beornoth was a stolid, reliable man, a Saxon, while Folcbald was an enormous Frisian, one of my strongest warriors. ‘You’re to protect me,’ I said. ‘You see those archers? They’ll aim for me.’

      The helmsman was in the most vulnerable place on a ship. Most of my men were crouched in Spearhafoc’s belly behind raised shields, Finan had gone to the bow where he and six men also made a barrier of shields, but I had to stand at the steering-oar. The arrows would come soon, we were seething through the green seas and were close enough that I could see the nail heads on the snake-ship’s hull. I glanced to my left. The other three enemy ships had seen where we were going and had turned to help, but that turn meant they were now heading directly into the wind and their sails were flattening against the masts. Men were scrambling to lower the sails and to thrust oars through their holes, but they were slow and their ships were being blown backwards and pitching hard in the rising seas.

      ‘Now!’ Beornoth growled and raised his shield. He had seen the archers loose their arrows.

      A half-dozen arrows thumped into the sail, others flickered past to plunge into the sea. I could hear the waves roaring, the wind’s song through