For certain the gods were smiling on us this night, for I think I have never come nearer to disaster.

All began well enough; we made our way undetected to Beamfleot and lay up in the reed beds till dark. Presently we heard the clamour of the alarm in the fort, and as the anxious guards left their post and walked to the end of the jetty to see what was amiss we slipped into the water and swam silently to the Sea Witch and the small boat that was tied up alongside her, close against the piers.

Sihtric and Rypere did their work well. Soon we heard the distant thunder of hooves, and knew that Æthelflaed had made her escape; and I slid into the water again and made my way to the end of the jetty, reaching it almost as the first clatter sounded on the planking above me.

But we had not counted on there being more than one horse, and only the gods know how Æthelflaed lived as she flung herself off the mare. If she had landed on the right she would certainly have died, for a second horse landed almost on top of hers and would certainly have crushed anyone in the water beside it; two others crashed in at the left, but somehow avoided her. In the turmoil I thrust out from the shadow of the jetty, grabbed her and thrust her back towards it, while beside me Caedmon swam like an otter for the white mare and scrambled to grip the arched white neck.

I heard Erik's voice above us and then Sigefrid's. I pushed Æthelflaed towards the small boat, and Finan's strong hands seized her even as Sihtric scrambled across Sea Witch and dropped into the stern. Then came the massive splash of Erik's horse hitting the water, followed by Sigefrid's frantic bawls to anyone there to listen, ordering them to put out boats in pursuit.

We got ready – Æthelflaed, still clad in her sopping robe, sat beside Sihtric, while Finan and I took up the oars at the back. I knew without a word said that he shuddered even as I did as our hands closed on the smooth wood, but lives hung on our oars and it was not a time for letting memory overwhelm us.

We hung back as long as we dared, but other boats would be launching and we had to be first; Erik would not go far, but do his best to keep his horse swimming in a circle short of the main flow of the tide as he waited for us to follow him. With a feigned clatter of oars we thrust away from the jetty and began pursuit. Darkness would hide the fact that two of the rowers were soaked to the skin, and Sigefrid aloft would care only that we were rowing, not who we were – though needless to say we kept our faces low, and did not even glance up to where he sat his horse at the end of the planking, roaring after his vanished brother.

'Pull! Pull!' Sverri's hated voice sounded in my ears as my back bent and straightened, my muscles falling into the familiar long, smooth movements, and doubtless it sounded in Finan's too. But neither of us had breath to spare for talking even if we had wished, to as the jetty and the flame-lit shape of Beamfleot behind it began to recede.

As soon as we were well into our stroke and the boat moving powerfully, Sihtric and Æthelflaed shipped their oars and scrambled to the prow. Out here there was hardly any light, but we had a horn lantern ready, and as soon as he had recovered a little breath Sihtric began shouting – Æthelflaed too calling as loudly as she dared, for the wind was shoreward and sound carries far at night, especially over water.

During the day I had studied the far bank carefully, trying to note anything that might be visible against the night sky to give me my bearings. Glancing around, I thought we were bearing too far left – the current was taking us fast. I grunted orders at Finan and between us we hauled the boat around across the flow, feeling the burn in our muscles as the effort began to tell.

"There!"

I have never, before or since, heard such relief in a woman's voice as in hers that night as the lantern-light glanced off a patch of white and brown hide, and a man clinging to it.

Hope gives a body extra strength. The row-boat's prow fairly lifted from the water as we turned and drove it.

Thurgilson was a good swimmer, but the effort of trying to steer his panicking horse without saddle or bridle had fairly exhausted him. He barely had the strength to throw up a hand and seize the gunwale, and long struggling moments passed before we were able to haul him aboard and drop him in the well of the boat like a bundle of wet washing. But he was alive, gasping hoarsely for breath, and Sihtric dropped a lip twitch over the nose of the hapless horse in the water and passed the handle of it to Æthelflaed in the stern. The poor beast had no strength left to resist, and as we once more began to row, this time going fast downstream with the current towards a distant wooded spur where a tiny wink of light gleamed among the trees, it made shift to swim too, doubtless finding easier going in the water broken by the boat before it. Sihtric sat in the prow and gave directions, and for sure it was easier thus than trying to look around and row.

The gods have been with us thus far, but one other life – if not two – now hangs heavy on my heart as I bend to that hateful sweep of the oar. But for the fact that time is our deadly enemy I should still snatch glances over my shoulder. Caedmon was confident, saying he had been swimming in the Temes before could walk, but it is an evil night, and rain has begun to fall heavily. Erik was a strong man and he is plainly done; how much harder must it have been with so much further to travel?

There are no words for the way my spirits leap as I hear Sihtric softly breathe thanks to Ægir. "They are there, my lord!" he says eagerly.

Finan mutters something, but it is too slurred with effort for me to make out the words. Still, the tone is enough, and we drive onwards till the shift of the water beneath the boat tells us we are into the shallows and we have hardly begun backing the oars before the prow runs into the gravel with a shock that nearly unseats us all.

Clapa has the horses ready, though the two that have been in the water this night are not fit to be ridden and our refugees must ride pillion. I drop a hand in thanks on to Caedmon's shoulder and promise him his reward, even though the smile that already lights up his face is almost brighter than the flame of a lamp. He too must be blind weary, and as for the white mare, she stands with drooping head and trembling legs; there are few ventures where the gods demand at least one sacrifice, and it may well be that she is the one. In a kinder world we would let her eat and rest, but this is a world governed by necessity, and we can only throw a blanket over her and set a gentle pace as we lead her off into the wood. We must be far from here by the time the sun rises, though the glow of Beamfleot burning still lights the sky to the west and there can be little doubt that those within will have other things on their minds than searching for fugitives in the woodlands around them.

Rypere is the only one missing from our band as we skirt Beamfleot well to the north, but I am not afraid for him; Sihtric assures me that he made his escape from the fort and was well gone. He can find his way back to our camp, where the rest of my warriors will be waiting anxiously, and if needs be from thence to Cookham. He too shall have his reward, if the gods permit us all to win through.

Erik rides pillion behind Finan, Æthelflaed behind me – it is seemlier so, I being her father's ealdorman. We have no woman's clothes for her to change into, but she is warmly wrapped in blankets, and when we make a halt she will have to don whatever we can find between us. Thankfully the wind is warm enough, so the rain, although not pleasant, is not as chilling as it could be. We have had no time for words yet, but I have seen her smile, and it was even brighter than Caedmon's. I saw, too, the moment when she and my lord Thurgilson looked at one another as they came ashore. As weary and worn as both of them were, for one instant they shone for each other like lamps before their light was hooded and put away for a fitter time.

Gisela, too, shines thus...

But I cannot think of Cookham yet. There are obstacles still to be overcome before I will see Gisela again, and many miles yet to travel.