where Cynric snored on his stolen throne. She removed the Saxon chief’s golden torque and slipped it round her own throat, then picked up the collar she’d worn and buckled it round the Saxon’s thick neck. It only just fitted. She used the other two collars to strap his wrists to the arms of his throne, then ran back to join her friends.
“We’re supposed to be thieves, aren’t we?” she said. “If he thinks we’ve robbed him, maybe he won’t realise who we really are.”
Cai grinned. Elphin shook his head, but was concentrating too hard on his magic to say anything.
They made their way to the edge of the camp where the horses were tethered, letting the music take effect on any sentries before they ventured past. Progress was slow and Rhianna’s impatience grew. She glanced over her shoulder at the chieftain’s tent, afraid one of the men might wake up and raise the alarm. She wondered how they would ever find Sir Bors among this lot.
Then they saw the winged standard planted in the mud, and heard groans coming from a hut built against the wall of the ditch.
“They’re killing him!” Cai yelled. Before theycould stop the squire, he had blundered inside. Rhianna cursed under her breath, gripped Sir Bors’ sword and hurried after him, wishing it were not so heavy. Elphin followed, still playing his harp.
Smoke and shadows filled the hut. They glimpsed a sweaty Sir Bors, stripped to the waist and roped to a metal frame. The bloodbeard captain stood over him holding what looked like a black glove clamped around a glowing poker, while another man stoked a fire where more frightening tools lay heating. There was a horrible smell of burned flesh as the poker came down, drawing another desperate groan from Sir Bors. For a heartbeat, Rhianna thought she saw a second figure, standing behind the bloodbeard, dressed in glittering black armour.
“Let him go!” she ordered, unable to believe what the men were doing.
The bloodbeard captain spun round, saw the sword in her hand and swung his poker at it… or tried to. His arm jerked, the poker clanged to the floor and the black glove, which seemed to have a life of its own, flew across the hut and gripped her wrist. Its touch was ice cold. Rhianna shook the horrid thing off and ducked as a dark shape hissed past her out of the door. She heard a rushing noise like wind in the trees and thought she heard someone whisper, “
Excalibur
”. She looked round in sudden hope for her father’s sword, but could see only shadows.
The bloodbeard yelled and dived after the glove. Now they could see it was a man’s severed fist wearing a black gauntlet with a ring on its little finger. But before he could reach it,the captain fell under Elphin’s spell and yawned. Rhianna put the sword to his throat and forced him backwards until he stumbled over his own poker and went down, dazed. The other bloodbeard seized a flaming stick from the fire and came at them, scowling. Then Elphin’s music enchanted him, too, and with a shove from Cai he tripped over his friend and joined him in the land of dreams.
Cai used his dagger to free Sir Bors, who had slumped unconscious in his bonds. Rhianna stepped around the severed fist, feeling a bit sick. She wondered which poor prisoner it had belonged to. Her wrist had gone numb where the gauntlet had gripped it. With a grunt of effort, using both hands, she raised Sir Bors’ sword over the man who had been torturing him.
“No, Rhia!” Elphin said, also eyeing the dark fist. “Blood will break the enchantment. Cai, go fetch the horses. I don’t think I can keep this up much longer. We’ll have to be quick.”
As Cai ran outside again, Rhianna lowered the sword. The rushing noise faded, and she shook her head. What had she been thinking? King Arthur of the songs would never kill a sleeping man.
She cast the groaning bloodbeard a final glare. Then she took Sir Bors’ shoulders, while Elphin took his feet. For once, Cai had been