The Sword of Wayland by Gavin Chappell

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  Oswald burst from the thinning crowd, his sword stained red. Behind him, the king’s thanes were gaining - including men Oswald had counted as friends and comrades - as the mob scattered beneath their horses’ hooves.

  Oswald shot a glance around him. He was cut off from the town... But no worry there. The chances that he would be riding proudly through the streets of Tamworth in the near future seemed slim.

  Before him loomed the gallows tree: beyond that, the open field and the forest wall.

  He paused briefly, realising that the outlaw Edwin was free. The priest and the two guards lay facedown in the mud, and a heathenish-looking horseman with a large axe sat grinning down at the robber. Oswald recalled the rumours that Edwin’s band had included a heathen outlander from the North.

  Edwin - hands still bound, severed noose still knotted around his neck - kicked his horse into a trot. Oswald glanced over his shoulder. The king’s thanes were bearing down on him; at their head was Egfrid, the king-in-waiting, with whom Oswald had often gone drinking until the early hours.

  He sheathed his sword.

  Quick as a flash, he sped across the grass towards the two mounted rogues. Closing the gap between them in seconds, he ran alongside Edwin’s steed, a tired nag who was snorting furiously at the indignity of being ridden like a charger.

  The heathen glared down at their pursuer.

  ‘Edwin!’ he growled. ‘Quickly!’

  Edwin shot a look at Oswald as he ran alongside him. ‘This beast won’t go any faster!’ he yelled back at his companion, kicking at it angrily, struggling to master it despite his bonds.

  Taking advantage of this distraction, Oswald seized tight hold of the horse’s saddle, bracing himself as the creature’s momentum tore his feet from the ground. With the wind whistling past his ears, he heaved himself up behind Edwin. The outlaw twisted in the saddle to glare at him, and tried to shove him off.

  As the king’s men bore down on them, the two men struggled in the saddle. Edwin’s companion reined his horse, growling angrily, and then turned it to face the oncoming riders.

  Hampered by his bonds and weak from recent privations, Edwin was no match for Oswald, and the unequal struggle ended with a punch from Oswald that laid the little thief out over the horse’s side. Ignoring the swaying outlaw clinging on grimly with his thighs, Oswald leaned forward and seized the reins, whipping the horse up into a canter.

  As they shot past him - Edwin hanging by his legs from the wild-eyed horse’s neck - the wild outlander glared wrathfully after them. He shot a baleful glance at the oncoming riders. Then, shaking his head, he turned his horse and rode after Oswald at a gallop as he plunged straight into the forest.

  Egfrid son of Offa tugged on his horse’s reins, and the beast whinnied to a halt. Around him, the thanes were slowing to a halt.

  ‘They’ve vanished into the forest, lord,’ called a thane from the left flank.

  Egfrid stared petulantly at the looming forest where the leaves were still quivering in the wake of the outlaws’ passing. He turned to the thane.

  ‘I can see that,’ he snapped.

  ‘Should we not pursue them, lord?’ asked another thane.

  ‘They’re as good as dead now they’ve entered the wild wood, aren’t they?’ replied Egfrid. ‘Why should we risk our own necks? Wolves, bears, boars - other robbers, even. It isn’t worth it.’

  With a thunder of hooves, the king’s party reached them. Egfrid turned in his saddle to see his father riding up.

  ‘Why don’t you pursue them?’ Offa demanded. Egfrid turned slightly away from the angry king.

  ‘They’re as good as dead anyway,’ he repeated, muttering. ‘It’s dangerous in the wild wood.’

  Offa rolled his eyes. ‘Why, oh why did Christ curse me with such a son?’ he growled. ‘Why I ever had a sickly wretch like you anointed as my successor, I’ll never know.’ He turned to the thanes. ‘Get after that villain Oswald! Bring me his head!’

  ‘No, my lord king!’

  Everyone turned to see Queen Cynethryth riding forward on a palfrey.

  ‘But don’t you want the man who… who violated you brought to justice?’ demanded Offa incredulously.

  Cynethryth looked demurely down at the ground.

  ‘Egfrid is right,’ she said, the name sounding strange in her Frankish accent. ‘Thane Oswald is doomed. His sojourn in the forest will be short and unpleasant, and punishment enough for… what he put me through.’

  A soft figure pushed its way through the ranks.

  ‘I can’t believe Oswald would do such a thing,’ said Godiva desperately.

  Cynethryth faced her, her mouth a thin line.

  ‘My dear,’ she said with a cold laugh. ‘Do you call me a liar?’

  ‘No, no, my lady,’ Godiva replied, confused. ‘But Oswald was my betrothed. He is a gentle man. I know him well.’

  ‘Come away now,’ said Elmund. He leaped down from his horse and approached her. ‘Of course, we’re all shocked and horrified by his conduct, but we can’t put back time. There’s nothing we can do.’

  ‘Oh but there is!’ said Offa loudly. ‘I’ve had enough of this nonsense. Men, dismount, and into the forest! Hunt down Oswald - and the two escaped prisoners - and bring them back to me! Alive or dead! And declare him an outlaw in every town and village throughout the kingdom!’

  ‘We’ll do that, then, father,’ Egfrid replied. ‘If you insist. But don’t blame us if we don’t come back, or if we return empty-handed. It seems Oswald has allies among the robbers, and they know the forests better than anyone does.’ He turned to the thanes. ‘Come on!’

  As the king’s men dismounted and marched into the forest, Cynethryth gazed after them, a scornful smile playing about her lips.

  ‘Perhaps we’ll see you again, my son,’ she murmured. ‘But will you bring back Oswald? Maybe I should seek a way of ensuring that he is never found.’

  She turned her horse and rode back towards the walls of Tamworth. Her husband and the royal retinue fell in behind her.