In Osbert’s camp all was feasting and merriment that night, but at last the whole host lay sleeping, and even the watchers around the camp dozed; till one, a half-drunk soldier, who paced the river side, heard the cry of the howlet from the wood which lay to the west of them, then answering cries from the northward and east, and the man wondered that so many owls should be about, and kicked the bits of wood into the stream with half-tipsy thoughtfulness. Twice the cry came again from the east, then Feargus from the south gave the answering cry—their first round of signals. Then each captain led his men in towards the camp and drew so near that, all being sunk in sleep, they could hear the tread of the watchers. Still the soldier paced the water side, until of a sudden, close to him on the west, he heard the cry of the wolf, then from the north and east the same weird sound arose; then came a pause, and Feargus, peering through the bulrushes in the river, singled out the camp of Osbert himself. At that moment the sentry was wondering whether to call the night guard seeing there were so many wolves abroad, but he fixed an arrow in his bow and waited, stirring the fire to brighter blaze to scare the wild creatures. Then from the south Feargus uttered the cry which was the final signal and all in a moment came the sound of the rush of Edwy and his Lindeseymen through the long sweet meadow grass to the north of them and the death cry of a wounded Anglian arose into the night. In a moment the camp of Osbert was awake and men were running wildly hither and thither, tumbling over one another in their hurry to get their arms, and the captains shouted to the men and the men knew not what had happened. Then midst all the confusion came showers of arrows from the osier planting to the east, showers from the wood that skirted them to the west, and showers from the bulrushes which lined the river bed. When they turned east the osiers started to life and dark and silent forms dashed forth to fall upon them like a frost wind upon the fields. Then the host of Osbert, half armed and half mad with fear, turned west, when the willow wood on that side of them rendered up its armed host, and Duncan and his Picts came upon them claymore in hand. Osbert’s captains shouted once more for order and urged their men to stand fast and set out the bowmen, and Osbert himself marshalled them and encouraged those that wrought with spears here, there the swordsmen. But to the Anglians and Lindeseymen, used as they were to the noise and rush of battle, the war cry and the clash of arms, there was something fearsome in the silence of their foes, and in their unusual size and garb. Osbert, finding enemies on three sides of him now turned his men with their backs to the river to protect their flank, when lo! a shower of arrows flew among them from the flank and the Anglians who stood in the rear ranks fell in droves, and as the terrible sense of being trapped by a silent and unknown foe, of seemingly overwhelming numbers, crept over the terrified and demoralised footmen, they heard the splash of water and the southward wing of the Picts under Feargus left their lair among the bulrushes, and dashed through the water breast deep. In an instant the river bank was alive with men of giant shape, who burst upon them, their long plaids floating in the wind behind, and for the first time the night was startled by the voices of their foemen as they raised the old shout of “Albanich! Albanich!” and from east and west came answering cries “Albanich! Albanich!” from the followers of Duncan and Alastair; while from the north rose the shout of “Lindesey! Lindesey! God save King Edwy!” Then Osbert knew that his old enemy had returned and that Edwy the hunted had turned hunter and had trapped the game, and he trembled. And there arose a din as though Babel were loosened. Again Osbert ordered his men to stand fast, but ordering was useless now, and after an hour’s desperate fighting, utterly beaten, the whole host turned and fled over the dark fen. Then, seeing the Picts start in pursuit, Edwy called aloud to those near him, “Pardon to all! Let the others go, but spare not the murderer,” and so he ran towards where he believed Osbert to be, and it was then about the dawn so that he could well distinguish faces. Soon there started one up before him and struck the weapon suddenly from his hand, saying, “Ha! king of Lindesey, I have sought thee long; my time and thy time have come together,” and so he rushed upon him, fury in his eyes.
“Nay, not so fast—thou canst war well on old men and boys; thou art able to fight bigger folk, and here is one for thee,” said Duncan, “thou and I have long been debtors each to other.”
Osbert waited no more, but turned suddenly upon him with all his force, but he had one to deal with stronger and more skilled than himself and he fell back, stabbed through the heart. So died the arch traitor who had given great trouble to many, whereof this history treats. Then Feargus and Duncan and Alastair brought in their men, and Feargus calling the Lindeseymen and all the captains around him, took the circlet of gold from the helm of Osbert and placed it on the brow of Edwy. Then all the warriors raised a great shout and cried, “God save king Edwy!” And so they fell to the booty, which they found in the camp of Osbert, and made themselves a great feast. And after they had rested and feasted them, they marched across towards Lindum, taking with them the head of Osbert. When they reached the city set on the hill, the people came forth to meet them, and all men swore to follow the king.
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE HISTORY COMETH TO AN END
And so Feargus and his Picts helped Edwy to clear the land of Lindesey and they sent word out to all the thanes around that Edwy was king of the lands of his fathers, and if any would not call him king there would be war with him and all the Picts with him upon his side. And so after awhile Feargus returned, leaving Alastair to be king Edwy’s captain until all the land was brought under him. And they won Alban, and on the third day of their return was a great feast spread, and all the chiefs of that country were guests and many kings and princes, with Llewellin of Gwynedd and one MacGilliosa, a stout stranger from Galloway, and many Picts and Britons from Lothian, who had helped Feargus in times past, as this history showeth, for the beautiful and noble Torfrida, whose fame was in men’s mouths as a heroine for all time, was wed to Feargus of Albainn, son to king Nechtan of the Hundred Battles.