Free Amber Treasure, The by Richard Denning Page B

his partner could kill it. He laughed as he told us the
tale.
    Then, his grin faded and his eyes
widened as he stared over Grettir’s shoulders, through the trees to the east. I
turned to follow his gaze. Beyond the trees, I could see the dim, red glow of
fire and the spring evening sky was heavy with dark, black, smoke. Yet, there
was nothing else in that direction for many miles, apart from ... my home. I
felt my heart sink with the grim realisation that it could only be Cerdham and
the Villa. Around me, the company had spotted it too and were rising to their
feet, alarm spreading.
    Eduard and Cuthbert set off at
once through the undergrowth, followed by several other boys from the village.
Grettir screamed after them to stop, but it was no use: they had vanished to
the east. Grettir seemed about to pursue them, when suddenly Hussa pointed
further to the north.
    More fire. More smoke.
    “It’s Wicstun: Wicstun is on
fire!” he shouted, sounding not just shocked, but almost affronted as if it was
a personal insult. A moment later, he set off that way, followed by most of the
other boys. Again, Grettir tried to stop them, but it was no use. The boys were
now just worrying about their families and their homes and blind panic had set
in. I spun round, staring at Grettir, then in the direction my friends had run,
and then towards Wicstun.
    Wicstun was on fire!
    Cerdham was on fire!
    What, in Woden’s name, was going
on?

Chapter Six
    Raid on the Villa
    Grettir turned to
me and shouted, “Master, please follow the village lads and I'll find you
later. I'd better go with these town idiots and make sure they reach home
safely.”
    Nodding, I turned and ran east in
the wake of my friends.
    “I'll find you at the Villa
− or here if Cerdham is not safe,” my instructor shouted after me, as I
crashed through the branches. I saw him head off northwards, running
surprisingly quickly for a man of almost fifty odd summers and then he was
gone, invisible among the oak and beech trees.
    My friends had a few moments’
lead and were already out of sight through the trees, but I could still hear
them up ahead and I set off in pursuit. While I ran, the branches whipped at my
face and then snagged and tore at my clothes. I almost tripped over a large log
buried deep in the undergrowth, staggered a few steps, managed to keep upright
and was off again.
    Ahead of me, there was a sudden
yelp of alarm, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting water. I pushed
a willow branch aside then it was I who cried out, as my feet seemed to sink
into the ground and then slip away from under me. I just managed to hold onto
the branch to stop myself falling and then looked down to see I was standing on
a sandy bank of another stream that ran through the royal hunting woods. I had
slipped on the sand and would have ended up in the stream, were it not for the
branch. Eduard, it seemed, had not been so lucky and had ended up on his back
in the water. Beyond him, I could just see Cuthbert disappearing through the
woods on the far side: he had obviously managed to react in time and leap over
the stream. I could not see the other lads from the village, so I figured that
they must have become separated in the woods.
    “Cuthbert − wait!” I
shouted after him but, whether he heard or not, he continued running.
    “Woden’s arse!” I cursed and
looked down at Eduard who sat in the stream, drenched through. I frowned at him
then reached down and gave him my hand and heaved him up. We crossed the stream
and took to the chase again, with Eduard lumbering along behind me.
    Soon, the trees began to break up
and become sparser and the undergrowth vanished. I could now see the west end
of the village and the orchard. Several of the villagers’ huts were burning.
One of them − I feared it was Eduard’s − was fully ablaze. Behind
me, I heard my friend give a shout and then a cry of despair and we paused and
both stared in horror at the scene before