Fire & Steel Read Free Page B

flashed across Eofer's face at the remark and the magister moved to allay his concerns. “The Durotrige live to the west of my own people, the Belgae.” He paused and smiled again. “The Jutes I think are more familiar to you than they are to me, it's one of the reasons which led me to recruit Engles for this journey. Perhaps we can share what knowledge we possess of our common foe?” Thrush Hemming, Eofer's weorthman , his leading warrior, approached them with platters of bread and cheese. Handing one each to the British leader and his own eorle he dipped his head before returning to his companions. It had been a long day, and both men tore hungrily at the bread as Cerdic continued between mouthfuls. “As I mentioned this morning, I already know something of the exploits of Eofer king's bane and his war-band. Even in these troubled times, campaigns and battles which claim the lives of two kings are rare events.” Cerdic glanced across as he broke the corner from a heel of cheese. “Did they die well?”
    Eofer shrugged. “Ongentheow, the king of Swedes died the death of a hero. My kinsman Hythcyn, the Geat usurper, failed to attain those heights.”
    The British leader nodded, thoughtfully. “How we face death is important, it is the final capitulum in our life story.” The eorle gave him a blank look and Cerdic looked surprised. “Capitulum, it's a Roman term for the division of a book?” Eofer continued to stare at the Briton who finally realised his error. “I am sorry,” he said awkwardly, “I assumed that you would know the Latin tongue. I know that many æthelings do.”
    Eofer pursed his lips. “Knowledge considered appropriate for our princes is not necessarily imparted to the sons of ealdormen.”
    Cerdic grimaced. “It was stupid of me,” he said. “Please accept my heartfelt apologies.” He rallied with a smile. “Let's make sure that our own final capitulum lies many years in the future. Tell me,” he added, “since I clearly know only enough of the customs of the North to enable me to offend good men. What do you know of myself and the situation in my part of Britannia?”
    Eofer dipped his head, acknowledging the British leader's apology, and cleared his throat to speak. “You are the grandson of Uther Pendragon's hearth warrior, Osla big knife, a Saxon, and the son of Arthur's duguth, Elesius.” It was Cerdic's turn to give a blank look and the men shared a laugh as the tables were turned. Eofer flushed, the haughtiness driven from him as he explained. “A duguth is an English term for a senior man in his lord's hearth troop, a doughty warrior. Younger warriors in the war-band are just known as youths until they have proven their worth and reached sixteen winters.”
    Cerdic nodded with a twinkle in his eye, and Eofer felt himself warm to the Briton as he took up the tale. “When Arthur died the people split into two factions. Those of us who wished to work towards a future which included all the people in the island of Britannia, Saxon, Engle and Briton under one leader and one God lost the ensuing war against those who wished to return to the old ways, those which prevailed in the islands before the coming of Rome. Their leader is a man called Natan and they call themselves the combrogi, which just means the people in our tongue. They call everywhere by the old names,” he gave a chuckle, “and nobody knows where they are any longer. This Natan styles himself a chieftain in the old way, even the capitol of the civitas at Venta Belgarum is now known as Cair Guinntguic.” He gave a low sigh. “Order within the civitas is breaking down, it is coming under attack from all sides. The people are in despair and I have been recalled from Bro Gwereg to lead the fightback. Already my supporters have stopped calling the great hill fort at Sorbiodunum, Cair Caradog, and driven away Natan's supporters there.”
    Eofer looked up and nodded his thanks as Hemming handed the pair cups of ale. As