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There were some six thousand people in our gaus, but most were responsible to defend their lands against the southern Goths, raiders from the sea, Svearna, and so the men we had would need to do. ‘It’s a good plan,’ he added and nodded towards the great Saxon boats that could be seen jutting on a rocky beach. We saw their proud wooden noses over some woods and a stretch of the beach, beyond a palisade the Saxons had built to guard them. They had landed there, in a remote part of our land, but we had been lucky and a boy had seen them the evening before and their surprise was gone. There were men waking the area between the palisade and the boats and those men were not Saxons, but the men who had killed them. They were the men of the Black Goths, of Hughnot, Friednot’s brother and the lord of north, the lesser of the two gaus. ‘Hughnot was brave to send to many men to aid us with these dogs.’
    ‘He happened to be in Marka,’ I said. ‘Of course he helps.’
    Hulderic hummed. ‘Friednot was worried about the Saxons, and there is something strange about them indeed. Its almost like he knew they were coming. The boy found them, but did he send the boys around looking for them? I think he did. Has been for a week or more,’ Hulderic wondered and looked up at his father. ‘He keeps secrets and holds spies and these Saxons made him very anxious. And that Hughnot is here, tells a story. They both have an interest in these Saxons and whatever they were doing here.’
    I nodded. ‘Hughnot fought well to take the stockade.’
    He agreed. ‘Uncle’s men suffered ten losses in wounded, but they took it easy enough. Saxons were napping,’ Hulderic said. Hughnot had some forty men and they would keep the ships and the palisade, and that would make things very interesting, when the Saxons arrived. ‘Well, ours is to fight, and let your grandfather worry about the bigger issues. He will tell us in time.’
    ‘It’s a nice plan, I suppose,’ I grumbled. ‘But it should have been our plan.’ I growled, as I looked Bero’s way.
    Hulderic eyed Bero. ‘I’ve said it before. Respect Bero. He is not a warrior, son, but he is keen enough and close family. We will get our chance to shine,’ he said with a smile. ‘Just wait.’
    ‘I’d shine sooner than later, Father,’ I said.
    ‘You must learn patience,’ he said, and he said it with a tremble in his voice that led me to believe there was more to it than just trying to educate me. He was afraid. Of me? Surely not. He gave the horse away, to be led over the hill where Scald, my horse was and he did it just in time.
    We did not need to wait any longer.
    The scouts below twitched. We all saw it. They looked uncertain and then we saw a man rushing from the woods, waving his hands crazily. ‘Kneel!’ Hulderic commanded tersely. His men went on one knee, and then hid totally. Hulderic’s standard of bear jaws was pulled down. Friednot’s better-armed men above us followed suit as well and the standard-bearer was careful to hide the mighty artifact behind a tree. Bero’s men were busy as they stumbled on their knees and elbows.
    A crude laughter could be heard from the woods.
    Then more. Men were talking and soon we saw three men wearing wolf skin coats walk the path. They were tall, lanky and blond men, obviously tired for the campaign they had been involved in. All had dark shields. Hulderic grunted. ‘They didn’t lie. It’s Cuthbert, all right.’ Cuthbert, a sea Saxon, a ruthless, battle-scarred chief of Bjarnheim, the islands of the southern lands, across the straits that separated Mare Gothonium and the sea to the west. All the men had huge, dark shields and that was the color of the enemy Thiuda, Cuthbert the Black. He had been raiding our coast from across the sea for years, every spring, summer and sometimes even fall. This time he had landed on the fringes of the Gothoni powerbase and had gone to sack the great hill forts and trading villages of the