The Sword of Wayland by Gavin Chappell

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  ‘Halt!’

  The Dane’s voice echoed back from the oaks that stretched into the murky distance surrounding them.

  Oswald slowed his horse to a trot, turned, and glared at him.

  ‘Why do you follow me, heathen?’ he snarled.

  ‘It’s probably because you’ve stolen my horse,’ came a cheery voice from below. ‘And me with it!’

  Oswald had almost forgotten the little thief, still clinging to the horse with his legs.

  ‘Your horse?’ the thane asked. ‘This horse is the property of the king. And I am the king’s man.’

  Edwin suddenly let go, and dropped into the undergrowth. Then he stumbled back up, with his hands still bound firmly behind his back.

  ‘Not true,’ he replied. ‘That horse is mine now - and whoever’s man you are, I don’t think you’re the king’s anymore. Or why would you be fleeing him?’

  ‘Aye!’ Edwin’s giant companion rode closer. ‘Why do you flee?’

  Oswald felt himself pale as realisation sank in.

  ‘The queen… accused me of rape,’ he murmured. ‘She said I raped her!’

  ‘You raped Queen Cynethryth?’ Edwin said, almost admiringly. ‘Now that’s a crime even I’d think twice about! Bedding King Offa’s wife!’ He laughed. ‘I’d take my hat off to you if I had one, and my hands weren’t bound.’ He turned to the Dane. ‘Bork, you couldn’t do me a favour, could you?’ He indicated his bonds.

  Wordlessly, Bork leapt down from his horse and set about freeing Edwin. Oswald watched, frequently casting glances through the trees in the direction of town.

  ‘I must go back to them,’ he said to himself. ‘Give myself up. Explain what happened.’

  Edwin caught these last words, and strode over to him.

  ‘Are you mad?’ he demanded. ‘They’ll hang you for sure - burn you at the stake, more like! Raping the Queen!’

  Oswald glared down at the little man. ‘It’s a lie!’ he snarled. ‘I’m no rapist - not like you!’

  ‘I’ve never taken a woman against her will,’ Edwin replied. ‘Some wouldn’t admit that they’d accepted me into their bed, when their husbands found us together…’ He gave Oswald an appraising look. ‘So, what’s your side of the story?’

  Oswald stared broodingly into the trees.

  ‘Last night, the queen came to me. It was after the king had toasted me, in the hall, and given me a gold armlet or two for my prowess in the field. A bard sang a lay about my duel with the Welsh champion. There was talk of bestowing upon me some of the king’s estates. That, and my inheritance near Westchester - I’d have been a rich man!

  ‘Later on, Queen Cynethryth spoke with me outside the palace, spoke to me quite shamelessly. She wished to share my bed. I refused her.’

  ‘Why?’ demanded Bork, puzzled. Oswald glared wordlessly at him.

  ‘A heathen would know no better,’ he said dismissively. Bork growled quietly.

  ‘How could I?’ Oswald said suddenly. ‘The wife of my lord? Besides, I’m betrothed to Godiva, the chamberlain’s daughter!’

  Edwin and Bork exchanged glances.

  ‘So you passed up the chance of nobbing the nobility - though you must be pretty high up yourself, everything considered - for the sake of your honour?’ Edwin sneered. ‘What a man! And now she’s accused you of rape. Makes you sick, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I would never have denounced her to the king!’ Oswald complained. ‘She must have thought I would, and accused me to cover herself!’

  Edwin clapped politely.

  ‘He’s got a brain, this one,’ he said sarcastically. He shook his head. ‘Of course she did, you lummox! You should have threatened her in the first place, to keep her quiet! I can see you’ve got a lot to learn.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ Oswald asked, frowning.

  ‘Me and Bork here don’t want some empty-headed aristocrat worrying about his honour every time we rob unwary travellers,’ Edwin replied, as if it was obvious. ‘We want a lean, mean, down-and-dirty brigand like ourselves!’

  Oswald curled his lip, incredulous. ‘You think I want to join your outlaw band?’

  Edwin sniffed, uncomfortably. ‘Well, not much of a band these days, actually,’ he replied. ‘To be honest, it’s just me and Bork who survived the ambush a month ago. But I want to get us back up to scratch quick as I can.’

  ‘I’m not joining you!’ Oswald replied haughtily. The very idea! ‘I’m a man of noble blood! My family traces its line back to Woden, the heathen king! I couldn’t become an outlaw. I’m a king’s thane!’

  Edwin laughed. ‘Just this minute, thane, you’re no more than a man with a sword,’ he replied. ‘But I could make use of that sword - preferably with you attached.’ He studied Oswald. ‘Make up your mind. Are you with us, or are you on your own?’

  Distant shouting, and the far-off crack and snap of branches, broke the still of the forest. Oswald glanced away, at the surrounding trees, then looked back at Edwin.

  The thief returned his gaze calmly.

  ‘It’s your choice,’ he added.