“Perhaps he would willingly swear an oath not to betray us.”
“Your kindness touches me, mistress,” the grey-haired soldier intervened, never taking his eyes off Wistan. “But I’m no scoundrel and won’t take rude advantage of it. What the Saxon says is true. Spare me and I’ll do just as he says, for duty allows me no other course. Yet I thank you for your gentle words, and if these are to be my last moments, then I’ll leave this world a little more peacefully for them.”
“What’s more, sir,” Beatrice said, “I’ve not forgotten your earlier request, concerning your mother and father. You made it then in jest, I know, and it’s not likely we’ll encounter them. But if ever we do so, they’ll know of how you waited with longing to see them again.”
“I thank you once more, mistress. But this is no time for me to soften my heart with such thoughts. Fortune may favour me yet in this contest, no matter this man’s reputation, and then you may regret you ever wished me kindness.”
“Most likely so,” Beatrice said and sighed. “Then Master Wistan, you must do your best for us. I’ll look away, for I take no pleasure in slaughter. And I bid you tell young Master Edwin do the same, for I’m sure he’ll only heed if you command it.”
“Pardon me, mistress,” Wistan said, “but I would the boy witness all that unfolds, just as I was often made to do at his age. I know he’ll not flinch or retch to witness the ways of warriors.” He now spoke several sentences in Saxon, and Edwin, who had been standing by himself a short way away, walked over to the tree and stood beside Axl and Beatrice. His eyes, watchful, seemed never to blink.
Axl could hear the grey-haired soldier’s breathing, more audible now because the man was releasing a low growl with each breath. When he charged forward he did so with his sword high above his head in what seemed an unsophisticated, even suicidal attack; but just before he reached Wistan, he abruptly altered his trajectory, and feinted to his left, his sword lowered to his hip. The grey-haired soldier, Axl understood with a twinge of pity, knowing he stood little chance should the combat mature, had wagered everything on this one desperate ploy. But Wistan had anticipated it, or perhaps it was that his instincts were enough. The Saxon side-stepped neatly, and drew his own sword across the oncoming man in a single simple movement. The soldier let out a sound such as a bucket makes when, dropped into a well, it first strikes the water; he then fell forward onto the ground. Sir Gawain muttered a prayer, and Beatrice asked: “Is it done now, Axl?”
“It’s done, princess.”
Edwin was staring at the fallen man, his expression barely changed from before. Following the boy’s gaze, Axl saw that a serpent, disturbed in the grass by the soldier’s fall, was now sliding out from under the body. Though dark, the creature was mottled with yellows and whites, and as it revealed more of itself, travelling swiftly across the ground, Axl caught the powerful odour of a man’s insides. He instinctively stepped to one side, moving Beatrice with him, in case the creature should come searching for their feet. Still it kept coming their way, parting in two around a clump of thistle, as a stream might part around a rock, before becoming one again and continuing ever closer.
“Come away, princess,” Axl said, leading her. “It’s done, and it’s as well. This man meant us harm, though the reason’s still not clear.”
“Let me enlighten you as far as I can, Master Axl,” Wistan said. He had been cleaning his sword on the ground, but now rose and came towards them. “It’s true our Saxon kin in this country live in good harmony with your people. But we’ve reports at home of Lord Brennus’s ambitions to conquer this land for himself and make war on all Saxons now living on it.”
“I hear the same reports, sir,” Sir Gawain said. “It was another reason I wouldn’t side with this wretch now gutted like a trout. I fear this Lord Brennus is one who would undo the great peace won by Arthur.”
“We at home hear more, sir,” said Wistan. “That Brennus entertains in his castle a dangerous guest. A Norseman said to possess the wisdom to tame dragons. It’s my king’s fear Lord Brennus means to capture Querig to fight in the ranks of his army. This she-dragon would make a fierce soldier indeed, and Brennus would then rightly harbour ambition. It’s for this I’m sent to destroy the dragon before her savagery turns on all who oppose Lord Brennus. Sir Gawain, you look aghast, but I speak sincerely.”
“If I’m aghast, sir, it’s because there’s a sound ring to your words. When I was a young man, I once faced a dragon in an opposing army, and a fearful thing it was. My comrades, hungry for victory the moment before, froze for fear at the sight, and this a creature not half the equal of Querig in might or cunning. If Querig is made a servant of Lord Brennus, it will surely tempt new wars. Yet it’s my hope she’s too wild to be tamed by any man.” He paused, looked towards the fallen soldier and shook his head.
Wistan strode over to where Edwin was standing, and grasping the boy by the arm, began gently to lead him towards the corpse. Then for a little while the two of them stood side by side over the soldier, Wistan talking quietly, pointing occasionally, and looking into Edwin’s face to check the response. At one stage, Axl saw Wistan’s finger trace a smooth line through the air, as perhaps he explained to the boy the journey made by his blade. All the while, Edwin went on gazing blankly at the fallen man.
Sir Gawain, appearing now at Axl’s side, said: “It’s a great sadness this tranquil spot, surely a gift from God to all weary travellers, is now polluted by blood. Let’s bury this man quickly, before anyone else comes this way, and I’ll take his horse to Lord Brennus’s camp, together with news of how I came upon him attacked by bandits, and where his friends may find his grave. Meanwhile, sir”—he turned to address Wistan—“I urge you return straight away east. Think no more of Querig, for you can be assured Horace and I, hearing all we have today, will redouble our efforts to slay her. Now come, friends, let’s put this man in the earth that he may return to his maker peacefully.”
Part II
Chapter Six
For all his tiredness, Axl was finding sleep elusive. The monks had provided them with a room on the upper storey, and while it was a relief not to have to contend with the cold seeping up from the soil, he had never slept easily above ground. Even when sheltering in barns or stables, he had often climbed ladders to a restless night troubled by the cavernous space beneath him. Or perhaps his restlessness tonight had to do with the presence of the birds in the dark above. They were now largely silent, but every so often would come a small rustle, or a beating of wings, and he would feel the urge to fling his arms over Beatrice’s sleeping form to protect her from the foul feathers drifting down through the air.
The birds had been there when they had first entered the chamber earlier in the day. And had he not felt, even then, something malevolent in the way these crows, blackbirds, woodpigeons looked down on them from the rafters? Or was it just that his memory had become coloured by subsequent events?
Or perhaps the sleeplessness was on account of the sounds, even now echoing across the monastery grounds, of Wistan chopping firewood. The noise had not prevented Beatrice from sinking easily into sleep, and on the other side of the room, beyond the dark shape he knew to be the table on which they had earlier eaten, Edwin had settled to a gentle snoring. But Wistan, as far as Axl knew, had not slept at all. The warrior had remained sitting over in the far corner, waiting for the last monk to leave the courtyard below, then gone out into the night. And now here he was again — and despite Father Jonus’s warning — cutting more firewood.