Warriors of Ethandun by N. M. Browne

pope.’ The man paused before continuing slowly: ‘There’s talk that the young Aethelwold, son of the old King Aethelred, is ruling nowadays, with the support of the witan and with the might of all the Danes behind him. Makes no difference to me which King gives out gifts to the rich, there’s none coming my way. Who’s to say that you’re not a Dane with the King’s finger in your pouch as well as his ring?’
    â€˜I say and I am holding the knife,’ Dan said, for no better reason than to shut the man up. He couldn’t see why a king should be wandering the marshes alone, but it was not his business. ‘Kneel to your King,’ he added,reasoning that a kneeling man was less likely to attack him.
    â€˜Now would be a good time for you to retrieve our weapons,’ the King said mildly and the woman got to her feet and reluctantly fished them out of the wood store near the door. Dan suspected that his sword was worth a good deal more than a gold brooch. He had little doubt that if he had not woken up he would have been the householder’s next target. He glanced at Aelfred and wondered if he had been injured somehow before Dan had rescued him; he was pale and sweating despite the chill within the house. Nonetheless he kept his voice steady.
    â€˜We will need food before we leave at dawn and the use of your boat. While we eat I will consider what is to be done with you.’
    The woman nodded and Dan watched her carefully: he did not like accepting food off those he did not trust.
    It was good to strap on his sword belt and to feel the comforting weight of Bright Killer at his hip. Aelfred too seemed relieved to have his own seax at his belt. The woman banked up the fire and fetched oats from a sack indoors and milk from a pail kept cool outside. There was nothing to sweeten the porridge and while Dan had grown used to sugarless food the last time he had been through the Veil, it tasted strange to someone who had readjusted to a twenty-first century diet. He ate nothing until the woman and her husband tasted their food and he noted that Aelfred did the same.
    They ate in silence, the only sound coming from the flames and the scrape of bone spoons on wooden bowls.Dan craved a cup of tea with two sugars, but had the strong feeling that it would be a while before he tasted that again.
    By the time they had finished eating, the first feeble shafts of daylight could just be seen at the edge of the homestead’s wooden door. Dan dressed again in his inadequate school uniform. He saw Aelfred staring at the crest of his school badge which was printed on to his blue sweatshirt. He stared at Dan’s trainers equally curiously. They were not practical footwear for marshland – they still squelched slightly when he put his foot inside.
    â€˜Your boat?’ Aelfred asked the householder pointedly.
    â€˜Sir, without that we’ll struggle to keep body and soul together …’
    â€˜You may treat it as wergild for your attempt on my life. You are lucky not to pay a higher price.’ Aelfred glanced at Dan’s sword meaningfully. Dan thought he looked ill.
    â€˜You may return his weapon,’ Aelfred instructed Dan, who gave the seax hilt first to the householder’s wife: he did not trust the householder.
    As Aelfred swept out of the small house with as much kingly splendour as one man in a shabby cloak could manage, Dan kept a wary eye on the woman and unsheathed his sword. ‘You should know that if your husband tries anything I will kill him.’
    She nodded as though what he told her was not news. ‘Is he really the King?’
    Dan shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
    She looked miserable. ‘Then I hope he cannot find his way here again. Here.’ She handed him an oldmuch-mended cloak. ‘We are not heathens and we have good reason not to trust strangers. There are people living hereabouts who’ve had to run for their lives. The Danes