Ross Lawhead by The Realms Thereunder Read Free Book Online Page B

“D–Daniel, sir,” he managed to stammer. “Daniel Tully.”
    â€œA fine name, boy,” he said. “Very fine.”
    â€œAye,” said the other knight, swinging his legs around and off the plinth. “A name for a boy to grow into.” With a heave and a loud grunt, he stood up.
    â€œAnd my little lady,” the spear-knight said, turning his head to address Freya. “Your name, please.”
    â€œFreya Reynolds,” she replied quietly.
    â€œA beautiful name, for one who will quite clearly grow into a beautiful woman. If it would please you, æðelingas ,” the spearknight said with a smile, “would you speak to us the year?”
    â€œYou want to know the date?”
    â€œIf it would please you.”
    Daniel told him.
    The knight broke into a wide grin. “Ah, do you see, Ecgbryt?” he said, addressing the other. “We have slept past the second thousand. You owe me your mother’s golden gyrdel.”
    â€œWhen I have found my mother . . . ,” the other replied, examining his long beard disapprovingly, “and asked it of her, it is yours, Swiðgar.”
    They both broke into deep, bellowing laughter at this, and after roughly combing through their beards with their fingers, they started to plait their frazzled hair into more manageable strips. As they did, they recited a poem in a gentle singsong rhythm.
    â€œWhere goes you, little æðeling,
In uncle’s leather shoes?
‘To see a holy man in Rome
And hear a prophecy.’
    â€œWhere goes you, little æðeling,
With brother’s golden crown?
‘To talk to the men of the borderlands,
And share their Winter’s ale.’
    â€œWhere goes you, little æðeling,
With hammer and with line?
‘To build a wall in Somerset To keep the north wind out.’
    â€œWhere goes you, little æðeling,
With father’s rusty sword?
‘To split the head of a tow-haired man
Who gave and broke his word.’
    â€œWhere com’st thou, great and mighty king,
With glory, might, and peace?
‘From Wessex on the Mighty Isle,
And I rule upon my knees.’ ”
    The song seemed very strange to Daniel and Freya, but the tune was happy and light, and the knights’ easy laughter and joy at the verses put them more at ease.
    â€œWhat’s an ‘æðeling’?” Freya asked, charmed by the song.
    â€œWhy, a young noble person, like yourself,” answered Swiðgar with a chuckle. “You are both æðelingas!”
    â€œOh,” said Freya. And then, “Who are you two?”
    â€œForgive me,” said the brown-bearded knight, picking up his axe and shield. He knelt creakily in front of Daniel and Freya. “I am Ecgbryt.”
    â€œEtch-brut?” echoed Daniel.
    â€œAye, Ecgbryt—the name given to me by our warband’s heafod . It means ‘shining edge.’ I am called that for the reason that in battle, it is all that friend or foe will see of me—the blade of my weapon, twinkling in the battle-sun as it rises and falls upon the heads of my enemy.” He whacked the side of his axe against the steel rim of his shield, making a loud crack!
    â€œAnd my name,” said the other knight, kneeling also, “is Swiðgar.” He whacked his lance against his shield. “It means ‘strong spear.’ My battle-brother and I have seen more fighting than many a war-chief will see in a life, even were he to live it many times over.” He raised his chin proudly and jerked it towards his weapon. “Yet the spear I hold has never been broken, nor lost to an enemy. I found this wooden shaft myself and shaped it with my two hands—it is my dearest possession.”
    â€œSooth,” agreed Ecgbryt. “It is no boast to tell that of all nobles alive in our age there were none better against a more bitter foe— it is simple truth. The evidence for those words is that