The Lords of the North. Bernard Cornwell

Guthred’s own desperate hack struck the man’s wrist, breaking it, and after that it was a simple matter to ride the enemy down and chop him to death. Guthred did not enjoy it, but knew he had to do it, and in time the killing became part of his legend. Songs were sung how Guthred of Northumbria slew six evildoers in combat, but it had been only one man and Guthred was lucky that his horse had tripped. But that is good in a king. Kings need to be lucky. Later, when we got back to Cair Ligualid, I gave him my father’s old helmet as a reward for his bravery and he was pleased.

      I ordered Rypere to kill the second man which he did with an encouraging relish. It was not hard for Rypere because the second man was a coward and only wanted to surrender. He threw away his sword and knelt, shivering, calling out that he yielded, but I had other plans for him. ‘Kill him!’ I told Rypere who gave a wolfish grin and chopped down hard.

      We took the twelve horses, stripped the two men of their armour and weapons and left their corpses for the beasts, but first I told Clapa to use his sword to cut off their heads. Clapa stared at me with ox-eyes. ‘Their heads, lord?’ he asked.