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Once or twice I could hold my hand as he sat in the midst of our circle watching all that went on, and I saw many things in those few moments while sword Foe's Bane rested. The Mercians had not followed us for very shame, but they sat on the open hillside in the place where the Danish line had been. I think it was not Streone's fault that they were not fighting hand to hand with us.
And as he did so the Mercians, Streone's men, wheeled round and fell on our flank, fighting for the Danes, and the Danish line swept the Stamford men from before them and joined the Mercians; and I heard a great sob rise in Eadmund's throat, and he called to me, and charged among the traitor's men to reach him if he might.
Then Cnut fell on York, and Utred of Northumbria, whose wife was Danish, submitted to him, and was slain by Streone's advice, as men say, though some say that he was slain by Thorkel the Jarl when he took the ships that tried to escape from the Humber. It may be thus. The shipmen fought well, and were all slain sixty ships' crews.
Streone's eyes fell on us, and he turned his horse to meet us. And when he knew who I was he glowered at me without speaking, and I looked him full in the face once, and then turned my back on him. He did not know my man. "Bind your prisoner," he said sharply to Thrand. "No need to do that," said Thrand coolly, "he is sorely hurt, and has no arms." Then the other horsemen rode up leisurely.
It was the fault of Brihtric, Edric Streone's brother, who had some private grudge against him, and would ruin him if possible. So he accused Wulfnoth of treachery to Ethelred, and that being the thing that the king always dreaded from day to day seeing maybe that he was not free from blame in that matter himself so prevailed that the earl was outlawed.
"I think that Cnut and his jarls will have lost their journey through your coming hither. The king shall not forget you when all is safe again." Who would not have been pleased with this? I went from Streone's presence with a light heart, until I came to the great hall, and there sat in the high place the Lady Algitha herself and her maidens. Very beautiful she was, but very sad looking.
And it was nothing more or less than that they would fall on Edric Streone and slay him when and where they met him. I would that they had not asked me, but had wrought the deed on their own account. But I said that I could not have this done, for it was too much after Streone's own manner of settling things.
With that I set to work to gather the timber together from my own woods, that we might begin to build in the coming springtime, and I grew happy enough at that work, though I would that I worked for Uldra. Then came the news that Eadmund our king was dead, slain by Streone's men some say by the Earl's son, others by the king's own men, whom he bribed.
The messenger would have to wait till morning, and could but give his message. I could reason with the Atheling, while this messenger would fall into Streone's hands. And that I knew now was the worst that could befall. "Give the man a fresh horse," I said. "I must go back with him." "Not so, lord," the men said. "You will be waylaid." "I think my luck will serve me," I answered.
"Redwald is an Anglian name," said Godwine, taking my hand. "Are you English therefore?" "Aye, young sir, from East Anglian Bures, in Suffolk," I answered. "Are you Edric Streone's man then?" he said, dropping my hand suddenly and half stepping back. "I am not," I said pretty stoutly, for I was angry with Streone's way with Olaf and with other ways of his. "Ulfkytel is our earl."
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