Read The Cross and the Curse (Bernicia Chronicles Book 2) for Free Online Page B

"It is good to see you, Beobrand. You look well." Coenred looked him up and down, taking in his fine helm, metal byrnie, sword and shield. "And prosperous. War suits you."
    Beobrand winced. He should not have made light of battle and death. Coenred was not one of the men who had stood with him in the chaos of the shieldwall. Coenred despised violence. He could not begin to understand what drove Beobrand to fight. To seek revenge for crimes. To right wrongs at the point of a sword.
    Beobrand could no more understand Coenred's devotion to the forgiving Christ god than Coenred could fathom Beobrand's belief in the old ways of strength and blood to confront obstacles.
    But one thing Beobrand knew for certain. The threads of their wyrd were intertwined.
    Coenred was a true friend. And he was pleased to see him.
     
    They rested long enough to eat, but they did not light fires and set up camp. They were close to the Wall now and Wilda's story spurred the men on. Her sincere, poignant account of the demise of all she held dear moved them all.
    The Waelisc were coming and the Waelisc would pay.
    Oswald had sent out word for fyrd men to meet to the north of the Wall. On a hill known to all as Hefenfelth. There they would congregate and form ranks, stopping Cadwallon's force from passing the Wall and gaining access to Bernicia.
    The pace was exhausting. A renewed urgency had fallen on them all. The day was warm and they sweated and panted their way along the furrowed and cracked road built by men who had left these lands in a time beyond memory. It might be crumbling and uneven, but it was still the best route to follow for a large group of men marching apace to battle.
    "Cadwallon will be travelling up Deira Stræt towards us," Acennan panted from Beobrand's side. "It is the only way he can move a host of that size. If God is smiling on us, we'll arrive at the Wall before him. Then we'll be in with a chance. Not much of one, I grant you, but a chance all the same." He punched Beobrand's arm and let out a laugh.
    How Acennan could be so happy when they were heading towards almost certain doom was beyond Beobrand's ken. He could not imagine ever being happy going into battle. Yet deep within him he did feel the first quickenings of excitement. A spark deep within a forge blown into life by a gust from the bellows. The shieldwall was terrifying. A place of sickening fear and pain. But also of exhilaration. He could not deny it. He was not content to be battle-bound, but part of him was eager for the thrill of it.
    That is what separated him from Coenred. The young monk was truly perplexed that Beobrand welcomed the chance to test himself once more against the foes he had faced already three times in the last year.
    Beobrand had tried to explain it to him before they had parted ways once again, Coenred heading north to the safety of Bebbanburg, Beobrand continuing south with Oswald and the fyrd of Bernicia.
    "These are the men who killed Tata. I will avenge her death," Beobrand said.
    If he had thought by mentioning Coenred's sister that he would gain his approval, he was sorely mistaken.
    Coenred turned pale and screamed at Beobrand, "Do not speak her name! More death and killing will not bring her back to me. She..." Coenred's eyes brimmed. "She..." His words caught in his throat. "She is dead. I want no more death on my soul." He rubbed his hands over his face, scrubbing at his eyes. Men who had turned to stare at the monk's outburst turned away. Coenred continued in a calmer tone. "Defend the land, Beobrand. That is noble. Do not use Tata's murder to justify your own lust for blood."
    His words had stung Beobrand. Is that how Coenred thought of him? Craving violence and death the way bears crave honey? Once they have the scent of a hive they can think of nothing else and no number of stings will stop them. Beobrand looked down at his left hand. At the stumps of his two last fingers. He pictured Leofwine's face as it had been in death.