The Warrior with the Pierced Heart

by Chris Bishop

  With that a man appeared from behind a small clump of bushes beside the road. Having shown himself, the shepherd kept his distance, holding his sling in one hand. Shepherds spent much of their time living rough and were very good at avoiding robbers or bands of Vikings. They were often expert shots with the sling, able to loose a handful of stones so quickly and with such precision that few men would take them on. In fact even when carrying a sword or a spear, it was foolhardy to face a skilled man armed with a sling as they could fell you with a single shot before you could get close enough to strike.

  ‘We mean you no harm,’ I said again to reassure him. ‘We’ve escaped from Viking slavers and are wending our way home. I am called Matthew, christened Edward and son of—’

  ‘I know full well who you be,’ he said gruffly. ‘Word has reached even the likes of me.’

  I was not sure how to respond.

  ‘I’ll have no truck with you, so be gone,’ he warned. ‘I want none of your tricks or your evil doings here.’

  ‘We have no tricks,’ I said, growing angry. ‘And if you know who we are you will also know that we are good Christian souls in need of aid.’

  ‘I’ll not give succour to the servants of the Devil,’ he said roundly.

  It was Aelred who replied. ‘Who the hell do you take us to be?’ he demanded.

  The shepherd hesitated before replying. Instead, he walked a few paces forward, still holding his sling as though ready to use it at any moment and also to show that he was not afraid of us. ‘He’s that there warrior with the pierced heart,’ he said pointing at me accusingly. ‘A man sent back from the dead to serve the Devil’s hand and trap men’s souls.’

  ‘That’s superstitious crap!’ said Aelred. ‘He’s as mortal as any other man and bleeds as easily.’

  ‘It’s true,’ I added. ‘I was sorely wounded but was healed, though I am still troubled by the injury.’

  ‘Healed by what?’ challenged the shepherd. ‘By fornicating with witches and pagans from what I hear of it.’

  I couldn’t deny that so said nothing more, but Brother Benedict was not done with the man.

  ‘My son, I am a Holy man as you see. As committed to the Church by my vows as I am by my love for God. Therefore trust me when I say that this man is not as you think and your Christian duty is to help him as you would help any other of God’s children. Remember our Lord’s teachings about the good Samaritan?’

  This seemed to unnerve the shepherd. ‘What is it you want of me?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’m a warrior in the service of Lord Alfred and would return to him as quickly as I may. That’s my sworn duty and, to fulfil it, I need only to know which way we must travel to reach him.’

  ‘Do you think I’d tell you that even if I knew?’ sneered the shepherd. ‘To bring the servant of Satan down upon Lord Alfred and betray him thus would be treason for which they’d have my head in an instant!’

  ‘Do you not think that if I were truly who you say I am I would need to ask a shepherd for directions?’

  That seemed to puzzle him. ‘What do I know of such things? My task is to mind these sheep, not meddle in things which are far removed from my station. Now be gone with you, and if your greedy friend here so much as touches one of my sheep I’ll send you all to hell. And this time you’ll not come back, be assured of that.’

  * * * * *

  ‘What are we going to do now?’ asked Aelred. ‘It seems your fame has spread so far and wide that there are none who will even talk to us, never mind help us.’

  ‘I fear you’re right,’ I said. ‘I think that signpost back there had been placed and turned on purpose in the hope of sending us off on the wrong road.’

  ‘Nothing like being made to feel welcome!’ said Aelred. ‘Chippenham can be but a few days from here, but we can’t just walk on aimlessly hoping we might stumble across it by chance.’

  He was right, for none of the route we had travelled thus far looked even vaguely familiar. That being so, we had no choice but to press on along the road and hope that by travelling north we were at least headed in the right direction.

  At length we reached another settlement, but it wasn’t Chippenham. It comprised a small Vill with a Hall and numerous other homes and outbuildings, all well protected and surrounded by fertile fields. By then it was raining hard so we all went to ask for shelter.

  The man who greeted us was a short, stocky fellow who walked with a limp. It was clear that he was every bit as worried by our presence as was the shepherd and those at the other settlement we’d visited.

  ‘I’ve trouble enough!’ he shouted as soon as we drew near. ‘You keep your distance or I’ll loose my dogs on you. They won’t care much whether your flesh is that of the living or the dead.’

  ‘This is madness,’ I explained – or rather I tried to. ‘I was wounded and then healed. There’s no pagan craft involved and nor am I returned from the dead, whatever others say.’

  He still didn’t look convinced. ‘Everyone knows the truth of it, for rumour travels faster than fire in these parts. If you’re hungry, I’ll leave food for you, but you’re not welcome under my roof.’

  There seemed no point in arguing as his mind was set.

  ‘We need nothing from you,’ I replied. ‘We seek only directions that we might return to Chippenham.’

  He raised the stick he was using as a crutch and pointed to the Roman road we’d been following. ‘Continue as you’ve come,’ he said. ‘But if you’re as mortal as you say you are I wouldn’t tarry here any longer than you need to. There are rumours that a Viking warband is abroad and you’d not want to fall foul of them.’

  We were grateful for the information so thanked him and continued on our way.

  ‘So, just to add to our problems, do we now have to be wary of a Viking warband as well?’ asked Brother Benedict.

  ‘No, he was probably referring to the slavers we’ve already killed,’ mused Aelred.

  ‘I doubt it,’ I reasoned. ‘It’s been several weeks at least since we killed them and in any event, they could never be described as a warband. They were just a few rogues and outcasts who’d sunk so low as to become traders in human flesh and misery.’ Even as I spoke it occurred to me that whilst that was so, it could well be that the man was referring to the warband which had attacked my escort. After all, we couldn’t by then be all that far from where that attack had taken place. If so, it meant there was a band of hardened warriors to contend with, not just a few fools who could be so easily tricked as the slavers had been by Ingar. I decided not to mention this to the others given that we already had problems enough to be going on with.

  We decided to take shelter from the rain under the canopy of a large tree. Everything was too wet for us to light a fire but once out of the rain we were comfortable enough and decided to wait out the weather.

  ‘That farmer back there looked to be doing well for himself,’ observed Aelred.

  It hadn’t occurred to me at the time but when I thought about it I could see he was right. ‘He was not high born,’ I acknowledged. ‘Perhaps he earned his freedom in battle which might explain the injury to his leg.’

  ‘What? And he was given land as well?’ said Aelred.

  ‘Maybe he earned enough spoil to better himself. Either way he’s prospered in these difficult times and we should think well of him for that.’

  ‘It’s always the same,’ said Aelred woefully. ‘Those that have land fare well enough whilst those that labour for them starve. The price of grain is now so high that it’s well beyond the purse of ordinary folk and only fills the bellies of those rich enough to afford it.’

  Brother Benedict nodded knowingly. ‘That’s as maybe,’ he said. ‘But the price is so high because so many men have died in these wasteful wars with the Vikings and there are now too few left to work the fields and bring in the harvest.’

  All of that was new to me. As the son of a wealthy family such matters were beyond me, but I had begun to se
e how hard life had become for so many. ‘Well. the wars are now over and Alfred will soon put things to right,’ I said weakly. Even as I spoke I was not sure how he could do that but decided to say no more. Instead, I tried to sleep, grateful for a chance to rest.

  * * * * *

  The following morning was much brighter, so we pressed on until we found ourselves in open country.

  It was truly beautiful there, with softly rolling hills steeped in lush grass and with meadows filled with flowers. It was from this that I realised just how much time had passed, for it had been early spring when I left Chippenham on Alfred’s mission and now the summer was fully underway.

  In the far distance we could see a column of smoke rising from beyond what looked to be a small hill. There was nothing to suggest anything sinister such as a raid, so we ventured closer, reaching it just before dusk.

  What we found there was another small farmstead of five or perhaps six families working together and probably enjoying a good living from such rich pastures. They had built their homes on the northern slopes of the hill and surrounded them with a stout wicker fence. Three men and a boy were busy repairing the defences whilst the women hastily carried bundles of clothes or blankets from their homes as if trying to hide them in the small wood which was but a short way from their stockade. It was clear that they’d also driven their stock into a holding pen within the trees where they hoped it wouldn’t be noticed, something which struck me at once as being a futile gesture.

  We had no intention of asking anything of them except directions but, from all we’d seen, even that was more than most people were prepared to offer.

  ‘You should remain here,’ said Aelred. ‘It looks to me as though they’ve already heard we may be coming and are seeking to hide from us as best they can. No doubt they’ve heard the same rumours as those at all the other places we’ve been to.’

  I hated the prospect of being feared, even unjustly, but what Aelred said made sense. So, as a precaution, we sent Brother Benedict in alone whilst we waited half hidden some fifty paces from where they were working. From there we could clearly see all that was going on.

  As he was not bearing arms it was easy for Brother Benedict to approach but, as soon as he appeared, those mending the fence stopped work and stared at him.

  ‘What can we do for you good Brother?’ demanded one of them who looked to be older than the others. His manner was amiable enough though not especially welcoming.

  Brother Benedict raised his hands. ‘God has seen fit to give me all I need,’ he said cheerily. ‘But I fear I’m lost. Can you show me the path whereby I might return to Chippenham and thence rejoin my order?’

  The man looked surprised. ‘Chippenham, you say? Then you’re still a good long way from home with yet two days’ journey ahead of you at least. And unless God has given you the power to smite heathens with your bare hands you’re sadly lacking what you’ll need to get there.’

  Brother Benedict was bemused. ‘He has safely brought me thus far,’ he said. ‘But what is it that troubles you so?’

  The man put down his tools and went across to explain. ‘What worries us is that there are raiders coming. So far they’ve evaded the fyrd at every turn and already looted farmsteads nearby. We fear we may be next. If the good Lord was set upon helping us he’d have sent us a dozen warriors, not a monk.’

  ‘So what will you do?’

  The man looked at him as though the answer was obvious. ‘We’ll defend our homes as best we can,’ he said simply. ‘We’ll bury all that which we value most then hide our stock in the woods yonder. You’re welcome to stay with us if you’ve a mind to.’

  ‘How many of them?’ asked Brother Benedict.

  The man shrugged. ‘At least thirty by all accounts. Maybe more. All of them thirsting for blood if the places they’ve already looted are anything to go by.’

  ‘Then surely you cannot hope to hold them! You’d be best advised to hide yourselves as well. Homes can be rebuilt and crops regrown but once slain your life is lost for ever, at least as far as this world is concerned.’

  ‘So speaks a man of God with no home or family to protect.’ With that he walked away to continue working on the fence.

  Brother Benedict recounted all this when he returned to us. It explained why they were so busy, though it was obvious to me that even once repaired, the fence would count for nothing when the raiders attacked, particularly if it was the band I’d already encountered. What’s more, even if we could persuade them to hide, they’d need to find somewhere more remote and less obvious than the small wood which, being so close to their homes, was the first place the raiders would look.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Aelred.

  ‘I think that if they stay here they’re all as good as dead,’ I said.

  Aelred seemed to think about that before he answered. ‘Well, we can either go down and die with them or we can get as far away from here as we can. I know which I’d prefer to do.’

  ‘I can’t stand by and watch these helpless folks be slaughtered,’ I said. ‘But there’s no need for you both to stay as well.’

  Aelred looked surprised. ‘You’ll be killed for certain if you join them!’ he warned.

  ‘So? Apparently, I’ve died before and it doesn’t seem to have done me much harm.’

  ‘That’s all very well for you,’ he teased. ‘I’m not so keen on finding out whether I share your little trick of coming back from the dead!’

  ‘Be that as it may, this is my chance to restore my damaged reputation and try to make amends for all those who were slain whilst under my command. Either way, if I can save a few Saxon lives folk might start seeing me in a better light.’

  ‘Is that wise?’ asked Brother Benedict. ‘When I asked for directions they said we are but a few days’ march from Chippenham. It would be a pity to get yourself killed when so close to home. Surely we should hurry there and fetch others to help us?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Aelred. ‘Or maybe the fyrd will yet get here in time to see the bastards off. Either way, what difference will it make if you stay?’

  ‘Even so, it’s my duty to help them if I can,’ I said.

  Aelred didn’t look keen on the idea of staying but neither did he seem inclined to leave without me. ‘Then I suppose that if I’m to look after you I’ll have to stay as well.’

  Aelred had boasted several times that few men could handle a spear as well as he could. If he’d acquired that skill by serving with the fyrd then that was to the good. I’d seen many men trained in that way though it seldom produced any who could be described as warriors. Thus I wasn’t sure how much help he’d be and didn’t want him to risk his life for no purpose.

  Meanwhile Brother Benedict seemed to have decided to stay as well. ‘My duty is to tend the souls of these good people,’ he said bravely. ‘That is the penance God requires of me to make amends for my weakness whilst a captive of the slavers. I shall therefore return to them in the morning and offer what help I can.’

  ‘That’s all very well but these people cannot hope to hold against thirty Viking warriors,’ I reasoned.

  ‘So what’s to be done?’ asked Aelred.

  Brother Benedict had a very simple plan. ‘As is my wont, I’ll put all my trust in God. Surely he will deliver me safely – or at least stand ready to receive my soul if I should fall.’

  ‘I think we can do better than that,’ I offered. ‘Brother Benedict, you must go down at first light and try to persuade the farmers to get as far from here as they can. Given that you’re a man of God they may at least heed what you say and that way will have a better chance of surviving the raid. But it means they must abandon everything except that which they can carry with them.’

  ‘Then what will you do?’ asked Brother Benedict.

  ‘Nothing unless I have to,’ I said solemnly. ‘If the farmers are safe we’ll let the raiders do what they will. Only if they’re discovered will we be forced to attack.’

  A
ttack!’ said Aelred, clearly shocked. ‘To what end? We’ll be hopelessly outnumbered!’

  ‘We might be able to buy enough time for at least some of these good people to escape.’ Even as I spoke I realised that there might yet be another option. ‘Mind you, if these farmers could be persuaded to join us, we could wait until the Vikings reach the farmstead then all attack them from behind. They won’t be expecting that, so we might prevail.’

  Aelred immediately dismissed the idea. ‘As things are I doubt you could persuade them to even speak to you, never mind fight alongside you.’

  I knew he was right. It would take a lot for them to overcome their fear of what I was supposed to be and, to their simple logic, anything they did to help me would tarnish their souls. ‘Then we can only do what we can,’ I said. ‘That means we have to get them away from the farmstead before the raiders arrive or they’ll all be butchered like sheep. The question now is how long have we got before the Vikings get here?’

  ‘From what I could glean from the man I spoke to it won’t be long,’ suggested Brother Benedict. ‘They could be here at any time so we’d best prepare ourselves.’

  With that Brother Benedict settled down to pray whilst Aelred and I checked our weapons. I honed my sword on a stone whilst Aelred ensured that the blade to his spear was keen and well mounted. He also checked the shield he’d picked up from one of the slavers. It was not a particularly strong one and I reckoned that even at best it wouldn’t survive more than a few strokes from a battleaxe. Still, it was better than nothing and I began to wish that I had one as well. As we completed our preparations I was also forced to confront the stark reality that I was about to go into battle having not practised or trained with the sword for many months. I was far from battle ready and, restricted by my wound, could not hope to prevail against such overwhelming odds. Yet somehow the thought of dying to save others offered a sort of penance for having led my men to their deaths that day in the forest. It also occurred to me that perhaps I’d begun to believe the rumours about myself. Was I indeed a man returned from the dead? And if so, did that mean I could not be killed again? As so often seemed to be the way of it in my short life, I had more questions than answers. In the end I dismissed the thought knowing that it was a sin to even think upon something which was so obviously blasphemous – there was only one person truly capable of resurrection and it wasn’t a boy who was once a novice monk and was now a would-be warrior, and a failed one at that. With that thought in mind, I knelt and, for the first time in many weeks, actually offered prayers that we might survive the battle, ignoring all that Brother Benedict had counselled about praying only to give thanks to God for his great bounty. Instead, I admit that my prayers that day were uttered from fear of what we were about to confront.