The Pale Horseman (17 page)

'There need be no bloodshed, lord,' I said.

'I am pleased to hear it,' Alfred interjected.

'If the charges against me are retracted.'

The smile went from his face and he walked to the window and stared into the misty
courtyard and I looked where he looked and saw that a small display was being mounted for my
benefit.

Steapa was being armoured. Two men were dropping a massive mail coat over his wide
shoulders, while a third stood by with an outsized shield and a monstrous sword.

'I talked with Steapa last night,' the king said, turning from the window, 'and he told me
there was a mist when Svein attacked at Cynuit. A morning mist like this one.' He waved at
the whiteness sifting into the chapel.

'I wouldn't know, lord,' I said.

'So it is possible,' the king went on, 'that Steapa was mistaken when he thought he saw
you.' I almost smiled. The king knew Steapa had lied, though he would not say as much. 'Father
Willibald also spoke to the crew of the Eftwyrd,' the king went on, 'and not one of them
confirmed Steapa's tale.'

The crew was still in Hamtun, so Willibald's report must have come from there and that meant
the king had known I was innocent of the slaughter at Cynuit even before I was charged. 'So
I was falsely arraigned?' I said harshly.

'You were accused,' the king corrected me, 'and accusations must be proven or
refuted.'

'Or withdrawn.'

‘I can withdraw the charges,' Alfred agreed. Steapa, outside the window, was making sure
his mail coat was seated comfortably by swinging his great sword. And it was great. It was
huge, a hammer of a blade. Then the king half-closed the shutter, hiding Steapa. 'I can
withdraw the accusation about Cynuit,' he said, 'but I do not think Brother Asser lied to
us.'

'I have a queen,' I said, 'who says he does.'

'A shadow queen,' Asser hissed, 'a pagan! A sorceressl' He looked at Alfred. 'She is
evil, lord,' he said, 'a witch! Maleficos non patieris vivere!'

'Thou shalt not permit a witch to live,' Alfred translated for my benefit. 'That is God's
commandment, Uhtred, from the holy scriptures.'

'Your answer to the truth,' I sneered, 'is to threaten a woman with death?'

Alfred flinched at that. 'Brother Asser is a good Christian,' he said vehemently, 'and
he tells the truth. You went to war without my orders. You used my ship, my men, and you
behaved treacherously!

You are the liar, Uhtred, and you are the cheat!' He spoke angrily, but managed to control
his anger. 'It is my belief,' he went on, 'that you have paid your debt to the church with goods
stolen from other good Christians.'

'Not true,' I said harshly. I had paid the debt with goods stolen from a Dane.

'So resume the debt,' the king said, 'and we shall have no death on this blessed day of Saint
Cedd.'

I was being offered life. Alfred waited for my response, smiling. He was sure I would
accept his offer because to him it seemed reasonable. He had no love for warriors, weapons
and killing. Fate decreed that he must spend his reign fighting, but it was not to his taste.
He wanted to civilise Wessex, to give it piety and order, and two men fighting to the death
on a winter's morning was not his idea of a well-run kingdom.

But I hated Alfred. I hated him for humiliating me at Exanceaster when he had made me
wear a penitent's robe and crawl on my knees. Nor did I think of him as my king. He was a West
Saxon and I was a Northumbrian, and I reckoned so long as he was king then Wessex had small
chance of surviving. He believed God would protect him from the Danes, while I believed they
had to be defeated by swords.

I also had an idea how to defeat Steapa, just an idea, and I had no wish to take on a debt
I had already paid, and I was young and I was foolish and I was arrogant and I was never
able to resist a stupid impulse.

'Everything I have said is the truth,' I lied, 'and I would defend that truth with my
sword.'

Alfred flinched from my tone. 'Are you saying Brother Asser lied?' he demanded.

'He twists truth,' I said, 'like a woman wrings a hen's neck.'

The king pulled the shutter open, showing me the mighty Steapa in his gleaming war glory.
'You really want to die?' he asked me.

'I want to fight for the truth, lord king,' I said stubbornly.

'Then you are a fool,' Alfred said, his anger showing again. 'You are a liar, a fool and a
sinner.' He strode past me, pulled open the door and shouted at a servant to tell Ealdorman
Wulfhere that the fight was to take place after all. 'Go,' he added to me, 'and may your soul
receive its just reward.'

Wulfhere had been charged with arranging the fight, but there was a delay because the
ealdorman had disappeared. The town was searched, the royal buildings were searched, but
there was no sign of him until a stable slave nervously reported that Wulfhere and his men
had ridden away from Cippanhamm before dawn. No one knew why, though some surmised that
Wulfhere wanted no part in a trial by combat, which made little sense to me for the
Ealdorman had never struck me as a squeamish man. Ealdorman Huppa of Thornsata was
appointed to replace him, and so it was close to midday when my swords were brought to me and
we were escorted down to the meadow that lay across the bridge which led from the town's
eastern gate. A huge crowd had gathered on the river's far bank. There were cripples,
beggars, jugglers, women selling pies, dozens of priests, excited children and, of course,
the assembled warriors of the West Saxon nobility, all of them in Cippanhamm for the
meeting of the Witan, and all eager to see Steapa Snotor show off his renowned skill.

'You're a damned fool,' Leofric said to me.

'Because I insisted on fighting?'

'You could have walked away.'

'And men would have called me a coward,' I said. And that too was the truth, that a man
cannot step back from a fight and stay a man. We make much in this life if we are able. We make
children and wealth and amass land and build halls and assemble armies and give great feasts,
but only one thing survives us. Reputation. I could not walk away.

Alfred did not come to the fight. Instead, with the pregnant Ælswith and their two
children, and escorted by a score of guards and as many priests and courtiers, he had ridden
westwards. He was accompanying Brother Asser on the start of the monk's return journey
to Dyfed, and the king was making a point that he preferred the company of the British
churchman to watching two of his warriors fight like snarling hounds. But no one else in
Wessex wanted to miss the battle. They were eager for it, but Huppa wanted everything to
be orderly and so he insisted that the crowd push back from the damp ground beside the
river to give us space. Eventually the folk were massed on a green bank overlooking the
trampled grass and Huppa went to Steapa to enquire if he was ready.

He was ready. His mail shone in the weak sunlight. His helmet was glistening. His shield
was a huge thing, bossed and rimmed with iron, a shield that must have weighed as much as a sack
of grain and was a weapon in itself if he managed to hit me with it, but his chief weapon was
his great sword that was longer and heavier than any I had seen.

Huppa, trailed by two guards, came to me. His feet squelched in the grass and I thought that
the ground would prove treacherous.

'Uhtred of Oxton,' he said, 'are you ready?'

'My name,' I said, 'is Uhtred of Bebbanburg.'

'Are you ready?' he demanded, ignoring my correction.

'No,' I said.

A murmur went through the folk nearest to me, and the murmur spread, and after a few
heartbeats the whole crowd was jeering me. They thought me a coward, and that thought was
reinforced when I dropped my shield and sword and made Leofric help as I stripped off the
heavy coat of mail. Odda the Younger, standing beside his champion, was laughing.

'What are you doing?' Leofric asked me.

'I hope you put money on me,' I said.

'Of course I didn't.'

'Are you refusing to fight?' Huppa asked me.

'No,' I said, and when I was stripped of my armour I took Serpent-Breath back from
Leofric. Just Serpent-Breath. No helmet, no shield, just my good sword. Now I was
unburdened. The ground was heavy, Steapa was armoured, but I was light and I was fast and I
was ready.

'I'm ready,' I told Huppa.

He went to the meadow's centre, raised an arm, dropped it, and the crowd cheered.

I kissed the hammer around my neck, trusted my soul to the great god Thor and walked
forwards.

Steapa came steadily towards me, shield up, sword held out to his left. There was no trace
of concern in his eyes. He was a workman at his trade and I wondered how many men he had
killed, and he must have thought my death would be easy for I had no protection, not even a
shield. And so we walked towards each other until, a dozen paces from him, I ran. I ran at
him, feinted right towards his sword and then broke hard to my left, still running, going
past him now and I was aware of the huge blade swinging fast after me as he turned, but then I
was behind him, he was still turning and I dropped to my knees, ducked, heard the blade go over
my head and I was up again, lunging.

The sword pierced his mail, drew blood from just behind his left shoulder, but he was
quicker than I had expected and had already checked that first great swing and was bringing
the sword back and his turn pulled Serpent-Breath free. I had scratched him.

I danced back two paces. I went left again and he charged me, hoping to crush me with the
weight of his shield, but I ran back to the right, tending off the sword with Serpent-Breath
and the crack of the blades was like the bell of doomsday, and I lunged again, this time aiming
at his waist, but he stepped hack quickly. I kept going to the right, my arm jarred by the
clash of the swords. I went fast, making him turn, and I feinted a lunge, brought him forward
and went back to the left. The ground was boggy. I feared slipping, but speed was my weapon. I
had to keep him turning, keep him swinging into empty air, and snatch what chances I could to
use Serpent-Breath's point. Bleed him enough, I thought, and he would tire, but he guessed my
tactics and started making short rushes to frustrate me, and each rush would be
accompanied by the hiss of that huge sword. He wanted to make me parry and hoped he could
break Serpent-Breath when the blades met. I feared the same. She was well made, but even the
best sword can break.

He forced me back, trying to crowd me against the spectators on the bank so he could hack
me to pieces in front of them. I let him drive me, then dodged to my right where my left foot
slipped and I went down on that knee and the crowd, close behind me now, took in a great breath
and a woman screamed because Steapa's huge sword was swinging like an axe onto my neck,
only I had not slipped, merely pretended to, and I pushed off with my right foot, came out
from under the blow and around his right flank, and he thrust the shield out, catching my
shoulder with the rim and I knew I would have a bruise there, but I also had a heartbeat of
opportunity and I darted Serpent-Breath forward and her point punctured his mail again
to scrape against the ribs of his back and he roared as he turned, wrenching my blade free of
his mail, but I was already going backwards.

I stopped ten paces away. He stopped too and watched me. There was a slight puzzlement on
his big face now. There was still no worry there, just puzzlement. He pushed his left foot
forward, as Harald had warned me, and he was hoping I would attack it and he would rely on
the hidden iron strip in the boot to protect him while he thumped and hacked and bludgeoned me
to death. I smiled at him and threw Serpent-Breath from my right hand into my left and held
her there, and that was a new puzzle for

him. Some men could fight with either hand, and perhaps I was one of them? He drew his foot
back.

'Why do they call you Steapa Snotor?' I asked, 'you're not clever. You've got the brains of
an addled egg.'

I was trying to enrage him and hoped that anger would make him careless, but my insult
bounced off him. Instead of rushing me in fury he came slowly, watching the sword in my left
hand, and the men on the hill called for him to kill me and I suddenly ran at him, broke right
and he swung at me a little late, thinking I was going to go left at the last moment and I
swept Serpent-Breath back and she caught his sword arm and I could feel her blade scraping
through the rings of his mail, but she did not slice through them and then I was away from him
and put her back into my right hand, turned, charged him and swerved away at the last moment so
that his massive swing missed me by a yard.

He was still puzzled. This was like a bull-baiting and he was the bull, and his problem
was to get me in a place where he could use his greater strength and weight. I was the dog, and
my job was to lure him, tease him and bite him until he weakened. He had thought I would come
with mail and shield and we would batter each other for a few moments until my strength
faded and he could drive me to the ground with massive blows and chop me to scraps with the big
sword, but so far his blade had not touched me. But nor had I weakened him. My two cuts had
drawn blood, but they were mere scratches. So now he came forward again, hoping to herd me
hack to the river.

A woman screamed from the top of the bank, and I assumed she was trying to encourage him,
and the screaming grew louder and I just went back faster, making Steapa lumber forward,
but I had slipped away to his right and was coming back at him, making him turn, and then he
suddenly stopped and stared past me and his shield went down and his sword dropped too, and all
I had to do was lunge.

He was there for the killing. I could thrust Serpent-Breath into his chest or throat, or
ram her into his belly, but I did none of those things. Steapa was no fool at fighting and I
guessed he was luring me and I did not take the bait. If I lunged, I thought, he would crush me
between his shield and sword. He wanted me to think him defenceless so that I could come
into range of his weapons, but instead I stopped and spread my arms, inviting him to attack
me as he was inviting me to attack him. .