"Aye, and is dead. He bade us fly, and could say no more. What of my father?"
The men looked at one another for a moment, and then Edred said very sadly:
"Woe is me that I must be the bearer of heavy tidings to you and the lady your mother. But what is true is true and must be told. Never has such a battle been fought in East Anglia, and the fortune of war has gone against us."
The fear that I had read in my mother's eyes fell cold on me at those words-and I asked again, longing and fearing to know the worst:
"What of the thane, my father?"
"Master, he fell with the first," Edred answered with a breaking of his voice. "Nor might we bring him from the place where he fell. For the Danes swept us from the field at the last like dead leaves in the wind, and there was nought left us but to fly. Two long hours we fought first, and then came flight. They say one man began it. I know not; but it was no man of ours. Now the Danes are marching hitherwards to Colchester."
"What of Osgod of Wormingford?" I asked.
"He lies beside our lord. There is a ring of slain round them. I would I were there also," the warrior answered.
"Then were there one less to care for our helpless ones," I said. "All are preparing for flight at Bures. Come with me to Wormingford, and we will warn them. There is work to do for us who are left."
"Aye, master, that is right," he said; "we may fight again and wipe out this business."