As he saw the woman, Cuthred made a choking noise in his throat, seemed ready once again to pounce.
“She is English too,” whispered Shef. “Edith, feed him with all we have. Talk to him quietly. Talk to him in English.” As the others started to stir in their blankets, he crept over to Cwicca. “And you talk to him too, Cwicca. Give him a pint of ale, if there’s any left. But first, quietly, cock your crossbow. If he lunges for anyone, shoot him. Now I’m going to sleep till dawn.”
Shef stirred, not at first light, but as the sun first started to show over the mountain tops that hemmed in the valley on both sides. It was cold, and dew lay thick on the single blanket. For a few moments Shef was reluctant to stir, to break the little cocoon of warmth his body had created. Then he remembered the mad eyes of Cuthred, and sprang up.
Cuthred was still asleep, his mouth open. He lay with a blanket pulled over him and his head pillowed on the breast of Edtheow, oldest and most motherly of the slave-women. She lay awake but unmoving, one arm crooked round Cuthred’s head.
And then he was awake. His eyes flicked open without a transition, took in Shef staring at him, took in the men beginning to light fires, roll blankets, head for the latrine. Fell on Brand, also on his feet, also studying Cuthred.
Shef never saw Cuthred move. He saw the blanket fly one way, behind it Cuthred must have sprung to his feet in one movement from a lying position, before his eyes could focus he heard the crash and grunt of knocked-out breath as Cuthred drove into Brand with his shoulder. Then they were both on the ground, rolling over and over. Shef saw Cuthred’s thumbs drive at Brand’s eyes, saw Brand’s great quart-sized hands grip the Englishman’s wrists, try to bend them back. Then the two were locked for an instant, Cuthred on top, neither able to force the other back. Cuthred twisted his hands free, jerked the knife from Brand’s belt and leapt to his feet with the same uncanny speed. Brand too was struggling up, but Cuthred had the knife swinging forward for the killer stroke under the chin.
Osmod grabbed his forearm as he struck, pulled the knife aside. Then Osmod was rolling on the ground, knocked sideways by a backhand blow from the pommel. Cwicca had both hands on the knife-wrist. Shef ran in, seized Cuthred’s left arm, twisted for a bone-breaker hold. It was like seizing the fetlock of a horse, too thick to manage. As Cwicca on one side and Shef on the other grappled with an arm each, Karli stepped forward, face alive with excitement.
“I’ll quieten him,” he yelled. His feet shuffled, his shoulder dropped, he swung with both hands, left-right-left, hooking into Cuthred’s unguarded belly, driving upwards to go under the ribs and reach the liver.
Cuthred lifted Shef bodily off the ground one-handed, smashed an elbow into the side of his head, jerked an arm free. A fist like a bludgeon came down on Karli’s head, he stamped violently on Cwicca’s feet, failed to dislodge the desperate grip on his knife-wrist, reached across to seize the knife left-handed.
Staggering to his feet again, Shef saw Udd sighting deliberately with a crossbow, started to shout “Stop!”, realized that in one instant either Cwicca would be disemboweled or Cuthred shot dead.
Brand stepped forward, between Cuthred and the crossbow. He said nothing, made no attempt to grip the other man. Instead he held out his axe, balanced across both palms.
Cuthred stared at it, ceased to reach for the knife, reached instead for the axe-helve. Paused. Cwicca, gasping, slowly let go, retreated out of range. Half-a-dozen crossbows were leveled now. Cuthred ignored them, staring only at the axe. Slowly he reached out and took it, felt the balance, swung it backwards and forwards.
“I remember now,” he muttered hoarsely in his Northumbrian English. “You want me to kill Vigdjarf. Ha!” He hurled the axe upwards, twirling it so that it span in the air, the light flashing off its brilliant edge, caught it at its balance point as it came down. “Kill Vigdjarf!” He looked round as if expecting to find his enemy in sight already, began to move towards the village like a landslide.