I sympathized. 'In war there is no easy course.'

Tell me something I do not already know.' His words were harsh, but his eyes pleaded.

'I will tell you what I would do if it were my decision.'

‘Tell me then, O Wisdom Incarnate. What would you do?'

'I would do the only thing I could do and still call myself a human being.'

'Which is?'

'Let them go,' I told him. There is no other choice.'

'Every one I release today will come back. And he will father sons that will come back. Every life I spare today will be a life spent later – the life of a countryman.'

'Perhaps,' I allowed. That is the way of it.'

'Have you nothing else to say, Mighty Prophet?' he mocked, his face twisted with distaste.

'I say only what is, Uther. It is for you to decide: kill them all and you may save a future life, and prove us more detestable in the sight of God than these poor wretches who do not know him. But, if you let them go, you will prove the true nobility of the British spirit. You will truly exalt yourself far above those you have defeated.'

He saw this but he did not like it. 'I could obtain blood oaths and hostages.'

That can be done, but I advise against it. These men are not to be trusted to keep an oath made to one they despise.'

'I have to do something!'

'Very well,' I relented, 'but choose the youngest of them for your hostages.'

'And I will not spare Hengist.'

'Uther, think! He is beaten and disgraced. If you kill him he will become a leader whose life must be avenged. Let him go; Hengist will trouble us no more.'

Jesu help me, my own heart was not in it. Perhaps I might have made Uther believe if I had believed myself.

'And I say he will not go free from this battle.' Uther had made up his mind.

Hengist was brought forward, tightly bound, his broad face snarling in silent defiance. Those of his bodyguard who still lived, were brought forth, too, and made to stand behind him. The rest of the Saecsen host, disarmed, the fight gone completely out of them, stood a little way away, up on the hillside, heads lowered in defeat, watching in sullen silence.

Gorlas, hot from the fight, galloped in quickly and threw himself from his horse. He ran up and, before anyone could stop him, seized Hengist by the arms and spat in his face. The Saecsen leader regarded Gorlas impassively, spittle glistening on his cheeks. The prisoners murmured ominously.

It was a stupid thing to do. I wanted to shake Gorlas by the shoulders and make him see what he had done. 'Stay, Gorlas!'

The voice was Aurelius', who now joined us. He strode slowly towards the captives, stopped, and stood regarding Hengist casually. After a moment he turned and spoke to Uther. 'Well, Duke of Britain, what is it to be?'

'Death for Hengist and his chieftains,' Uther replied evenly. The rest will go free -' he shot a quick glance at me. They will be escorted to the coast and put on ships, never to return to this land again under pain of death.'

'Very well,' said Aurelius, 'so be it.'

Gorlas, hanging back, now thrust himself forward. 'If Hengist is to be killed, Lord Aurelius, let it be by my hand.'

Aurelius looked at him shrewdly. 'Why, Lord Gorlas, should you be his executioner?'

'It is a matter of honour between us, lord,' Gorlas confessed. 'My brother was murdered in the Massacre of the Knives, when Vortigern was king. I have made an oath that if ever I were to meet Hengist, I would kill him. I had hoped to meet him in battle."

Aurelius considered this. He glanced at Uther, 'I have no objections.'

'Someone must do the deed,' muttered Uther.

The High King turned to me. 'What say you, Wise Counsellor?'

‘The taking of life in revenge is hateful to me. But if his life is forfeit for the wrong he has done, let him be killed quickly and quietly – but alone and away from here.'

A strange light glinted in Gorlas' eyes. He threw back his head and laughed hideously. 'Kill him quietly?' he hooted. 'We have just slaughtered ten thousand of these motherless bastards! Here is the Chief Bastard himself – if any deserve to die, he does!'

'We killed today because we had no choice,' I spat. 'We killed to save ourselves and our people. But now we have a choice, and I tell you that killing for revenge is murder, and has no place among civilized men.'

'My Lord Aurelius,' shouted Gorlas, angry now. 'Let Hengist be killed here and now, before all his people. I would have them see and remember how we punish treachery.'

Many others agreed with Gorlas, and loudly, so Aurelius gave his assent, and Gorlas wasted no time about it. He picked up a long spear and shoved it into the Saecsen's belly. Hengist groaned but did not fall. Gorlas withdrew the spear and stabbed Hengist with it again. Blood gushed out onto the ground and the barbarian leader crashed to his knees, doubled over his wound. Still, he did not cry out.

Gorlas stepped quickly to his victim's side, drew his sword, raised it, and struck off Hengist's head. The body pitched forward into the dust. Gorlas raised his grisly trophy in triumph. Then, seized by the frenzy of his vengeance, Gorlas turned and fell on the corpse, chopping and chopping with his sword. He hacked the body into pieces and, when he was finished, scattered the pieces in the dust.

All the while the men… the men, Holy Father forgive us all, cheered him.

When the cheering was over, an awful silence descended upon the battlefield; a silence instantly shattered by a heart-rending shriek. A youth thrust himself forward from the mass of captives: tall, thin – he had not yet attained his manly growth – his fair hair hung in long braids from his temples, and, beneath the dirt, his face, now distorted in grief, bore the same proud aspect as his father. There was no question whose offspring it was.

The boy threw himself upon the severed head of his father and hugged it to his breast. Gorlas, breathless and sweating from his exertion, whirled on the youth and raised his sword to strike.

'Gorlas! Hold!' Uther swung down from the saddle and strode to where they were. 'It is done. Put your sword away.'

'Not while the wolfs whelp lives,' said Gorlas, thickly. 'Let me kill him and make an end.'

'Do we kill children now, Gorlas? Look at him, he is only a boy.' The youth had not so much as glanced at the danger looming over him; he continued to wail, rocking back and forth piteously, cradling the bloody head hi his arms.

'Lieu blind me, he is Hengist's son! Kill him now or he returns to lead another murdering wolf pack when he is grown.'

'There has been enough killing for one day,' replied Uther. 'Put your sword away, Gorlas. I tell you, there is no shame in it.'

Muttering dark oaths, Gorlas sheathed the blade and contented himself with a sharp kick at the boy before him. Then he stomped off to rejoin his war band.

Uther raised the boy to his feet where he stood sullenly, his dirty face streaked with his tears. 'What is your name, boy?' Uther asked.

The youth understood him well enough and answered, 'Octa.'

'I give you the gift of your life, Octa. If you or your people ever return here again, I will take back my gift. Do you understand?'

The boy said nothing. Uther took the youth's naked arm in his glove, turned him and pushed him gently back to his place among the other captives. Aurelius, who had kept himself apart, now came forth and, placing his hands on his brother's shoulders, kissed him, and embraced him. 'Hail Uther! Duke of Britain! The victory is yours! To you belongs the triumph and the spoil!'

There was little enough spoil, and much of it of British origin. Most of what we collected from the captives and their camp had been stolen earlier in the summer by the Saecsens. But there were some handsome armbands and bracelets of red gold, and jewelled knives, all of which Uther divided among his battlechiefs, keeping nothing for himself.