Free The Sixth Lost Tale of Mercia: Hastings the Hearth Companion by Jayden Woods Page A

he had no choice but to find shelter, get a full night’s
rest, and return home to Lundenburg.
    But in doing so, he would fail the Golden
Cross; and even worse, he would fail Aydith.
    He looked up and saw that the wise men were
already turning around, ready to walk away, ready to give up.
    “ Wait,” he rasped. He
coughed, trying to clear phlegm from his throat. He needed water.
“Wait!” Still no one listened to him, so he grabbed his horse’s
saddle and pulled himself up. The stallion neighed with dismay, and
Hastings increased her agitation by kicking her flank, so the steed
reared up and bolted forward, knocking people over and bursting
into what remained of the wise men’s circle.
    Hastings did not think he could not have
planned his entry much better than that, for now he had everyone’s
attention. It was not good, however, that Ulfcytel had drawn his
sword, and looked ready to chop off his horse’s legs.
    “ Wait!” he cried again. He
slid back down to earth, half-stumbling as he righted himself,
reaching deep into his tunic for the one spot against his heart
that he had kept clean and secure. When he pulled out the scroll,
its whiteness seemed to glow through the ashy air, making
Ulfcytel’s eyes pop open with surprise. “I bring …” Hastings
gasped, feeling dizzy. He had come this far. He had to deliver the
message properly. “I bring battle plans from the Golden
Cross.”
    “ The who?”
    Hastings righted himself at last, pushing his
matted hair from his face, brushing off what mud he could from his
tunic. He fiddled with his sword belt for a moment, not because he
needed to, but because he wanted to draw attention to its intricacy
and ornateness. He was not sure if he wanted Ulfcytel to recognize
him completely, for they had briefly encountered each other in the
past, but he at least needed to be taken seriously as a member of
the noble retainers. “I am one of the royal gesithas,” he said. “I
serve his lordship and his aethelings as needed. On their behalf I
bring you this military advice, provided by one of King—er,
Engla-lond’s most loyal battle tacticians, the Golden Cross.”
    He had crafted his words carefully, as
instructed, misleading the high reeve without lying. He wanted to
be taken seriously as a representative of the royal family without
ever stating that he was acting on their orders. He also took care
not to say King Ethelred’s name, despite all of this. Two years
ago, Ethelred had ordered that all of the Danes in Engla-lond be
killed. Naturally, he had not succeeded, for there were far too
many of them, including several in positions of great power, like
Ulfcytel himself and other thegns of the Danelaw. Afterwards, many
blamed the massacre on a young man named Eadric, said to have
advised Ethelred in secret the day before. Hastings knew this
meeting had taken place, but he thought it silly to put all of the
blame on this otherwise unknown Mercian. No doubt Ulfcytel,
determined to keep his lands and power, preferred to blame some
poor teen named Eadric rather than the king to whom he remained
loyal.
    Hastings’s carefully planned speech must have
worked, for Ulfcytel cocked his yellow eyebrows and unrolled the
scroll. He snapped his fingers. A clergyman rushed quickly to his
aid. Their eyes perused the scroll together, but Ulfcytel seemed to
have difficulty. Meanwhile all the other wise men were straining
closer out of curiosity, annoyed that they could not see for
themselves.
    Hastings filled in the silence. “The Golden
Cross urges all of you not to give up hope, even though you have
not had time to gather the fyrd against Sweyn Forkbeard. The Golden
Cross suggests a new tactic, one that would be available to you
without gathering your entire army.”
    All this while, the bishop was whispering in
Ulfcytel’s ear, reading the scroll for him. Ulfcytel looked up with
a scowl. “He says to put our best men in front? That’s
ridiculous.”
    “ It would be faster