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hear,” Wallace
replied. “A wool merchant from the mountains passed this way last week and he
told me that he heard it from a Welshman, who spoke to Aneirin himself.”
    “Aneirin?” said my father, in an
awed tone.
    Even I had heard of the poet and
bard Aneirin. He was Welsh and still young, but Lilla said he was a genius. I’d
had to ask what that meant and Lilla had said it was someone highly and
uniquely talented, unlike me. Aneirin travelled the Welsh kingdoms west of the
Pennines: Strathclyde, Gwyneth and Urien’s Rheged. I had heard he even came
east once to Elmet, our neighbour and the only Welsh land on our side of the mountains.
    “So, what I hear is,” Wallace
slurred his words and then belched, “... what I hear is that Firebrand has led
his army out of Bernicia and gone into Rheged. Killed loads of Welshmen.
Urien’s son − er, wot’s his name?”
    “Owain,” I said, stories of battle
bringing me back to the conversation. Owain had succeeded his father and was
now King in Rheged.
    Wallace beamed at me like I had
won a prize.
    “That’s the chap. Anyway, wot’s
his name is trying to get the Welsh together again into an army after most of
them got killed a few years back up north. What I heard is, he ain’t doing very
well and Firebrand is looking to finish him off,” Wallace concluded, before
sliding down off his chair and starting to snore.
    My father winked at me and
slurped some more beer.
    When we got home, I found Eduard
and Cuthbert out in the orchard. Cuthbert was trying to teach Eduard how to
shoot a bow. Eduard could never get the idea. The problem was that although he
was fearsomely strong, he was clumsy and a bit of an oaf really and he could
not manage to get the hang of aiming it. Arrows would fly out in random
directions. As I approached, I heard a twang and then Cuthbert screamed at me
to drop. I did so and felt the arrow shaft pass by my ear.
    Standing back up I glared at my
big friend, who looked back at me aghast; his face pale and his hands shaking.
    “Sorry, Cerdic,” he said at last,
then passing the bow rather sheepishly to Cuthbert added, “look, you'd better
have this, Cuth. I don’t think I'll ever quite get it.” Cuthbert was also
shaking gently and he, still staring at me, just nodded.
    “Anyway, forget about all that
and let me tell you about Firebrand …”
    So this was how it was. The three
of us soaked up any news of war and battle like a sponge. More than that, we
were of an age when we needed heroes. Firebrand might be Bernician, but he was
still English − my race − and he had defeated an overwhelming army
of Welsh in a last ditch battle to defend a tiny spit of land, which was all
that remained of his kingdom. He was then my father’s age and fearsomely
strong. Rumours spread that he was merciless in battle. Over the following
years he pursued his enemies with an almost holy zeal. No Bernician opposed
him. He unified the Anglo-Saxon kingdom and forged a powerful army, which he
now led to ravage the lands of Rheged.
    My friends laughed and cheered at
the story I told them, then we got the wooden swords and shields and practised
a little. Suddenly, I became aware we were not alone. Aedann was sitting on a
fence nearby watching us and we fell silent, although we had no reason to. We
were free men and in my case, I was the son of the Lord, whilst he was just a
slave, and yet we felt awkward near him.
    “Aedann …” I said, but was then
at a loss, not knowing what to say.
    It was Aedann who broke the
silence. “I heard what you were talking about − about Firebrand and
Owain.”
    “That’s right, Firebrand is going
to kill Owain and defeat the Welsh for good,” I stared at him.
    Aedann actually laughed. It was
the first time I could recall him doing so. Then, he boldly walked forward and
picked up one of the practice swords and examined it. Eduard looked darkly at
him. Slaves were not allowed swords and it seemed wrong somehow for him to pick
up