The Amber Treasure

by Richard Denning

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hussa

  The following morning, I woke early and, needing fresh air and to empty my bladder, left the hall where I had slept and walked the battlements to watch the sun rise. I was now utterly sick of this place of death and I turned my gaze southwards towards the bridge, Eoforwic and the even more distant Villa.

  I did not get my wish immediately, of course. That day and all of the next, we finished burying or burning the dead. Our wounded needed rest and treatment for their injuries, whilst the able-bodied turned their efforts to repairing the camp’s walls for defence against a possible further attack; though one never came.

  We seemed to be delaying our departure home for no reason that I could discern, but we found out why the following day. Aethelric and Aethelfrith had been involved in long discussions. Harald, Sabert and the other commanders were often seen coming and going into the hall, which the two leaders had taken over. Harald in particular looked furious one night when he came out, but when I asked him why, he would not answer.

  There was great secrecy about the subject of their discussions, but rumours will emerge, eventually, in any army. Some men said that King Aethelfrith was keen to invade Rheged and conquer it, taking advantage of its weakness, but that our Prince did not want to. Alfred, from the Wolds swore that he had seen Owain still alive after the battle, walking away from it. I knew this was nonsense, of course, and I told him that I had killed the golden king with my sword and knew he was dead, but in the chaos of battle men can imagine many things. Indeed, one day a tale went round that Eoforwic had indeed fallen to an uprising and that we were about to march there to put the city to the sword.

  In the end, we discovered that the issue under discussion was the future of Stanwick camp and the location of the border between Bernicia and Deira. We were shocked to learn that Aethelric had agreed that this border should lie at Catraeth Bridge, a few miles south of the fortress we were in. In other words, Stanwick camp would be left in the hands of Aethelfrith. So, this meant that we had marched all the way here and fought a battle, Deiran blood had been shed, Wallace and hundreds more besides him had been killed; and after all of that, we were simply just giving away the fortress.

  Suddenly, the feelings of unity and the dreams of Northumbrian brotherhood seemed foolish. The Bernicians started ordering us Deirans around, acting all self important, as if they were the masters and we their subjects. One day, one of Aethelfrith’s house guards called out to Eduard, ‘You’re a piece of shit!’ My friend retaliated, got into a fight with him and broke his nose. Relations in the camp grew tense; soon, fights were breaking out on a daily basis and increasing in severity. Eventually, a man from the Wolds was killed by two Bernicians, but Aethelfrith would not permit them to stand trial, which made us even angrier. It now started to seem as if a battle might be fought between us and our former allies on the very battlefield where together we had defeated the Welsh only a couple of weeks before.

  In the end though, Aethelric called to him all the lords and commanders in the Deiran army. He looked frankly exhausted and seemed to struggle to get his words out and when he did speak; there was a tone of resignation in his voice.

  “You see, it is simple numbers,” Aethelric explained to us. “We have just five hundred men to defend Deira from future Welsh attacks. Aethelfrith has a thousand spears. He can keep a few companies here and still fight on against the Welsh to his west and north, whereas we would be stretched manning a garrison all the way up here. In addition, there are the armies of Elmet, which might come again and attack us one day, from the west. We were victorious here,” and now he swept his arm around in a circle, “at Catraeth, because we had allies. But, we would not be able to defend our own home lands if we kept two hundred men here. Bernicia is better placed to watch over Rheged and the pass and release us to guard our western border. I don’t like it and I expect you won’t either, but there is nothing else to be done.”

  And so, that was that: a treaty was agreed. The Prince was correct that none in Deira much liked it, but however reluctant, we could see Aethelric’s point. Even so, while the victory here had saved Deira from an invasion by the Welsh, we had now given away Stanwick camp to the more powerful Bernicians and many of us questioned the outcome. Had it justified the death of all those who had died? Would Wallace have felt that his sacrifice was worthwhile? Would the families in Wicstun and elsewhere, those whose sons would never go home, find solace in the outcome? Well, to those questions, I had no answer.

  There was now nothing to keep us here and with tempers frayed and relations cooling, Aethelric ordered the army to be ready to march the next day. No one complained at that. Aethelfrith came out on that last morning and spoke to Aethelric. Then, the King of Bernicia turned and looked over at us and I found that I did not like his expression one bit. To me, he seemed like a man assessing our strength and abilities. This man and his father had been heroes to us all when we were growing up. I had always imagined him full of courage and valour and he certainly had all that. His eyes, however, told a different story. They showed ambition as well as a lust for wealth, land and power. For the moment, he had been our saviour and our lands were as a result safe, but as we marched away I thought to myself that a man such as that was a dangerous ally and I pondered that it would be all too easy for him to become our enemy. Then, I cursed myself for wasting time with these thoughts. “It’s not your problem, Cerdic”, I thought. “Enjoy the moment: after all, we are going home.”

  We did not go straight home, of course. We marched with Harald to Eoforwic and there discovered that Aelle had arrived and set up court in Harald’s hall. Aelle held a feast to celebrate victory at Catraeth and to give thanks for our survival. Then, the next day, he summoned a great council, to which I was invited. Lilla was too, of course, but excused himself − saying that he had been invited to play at a special celebration in one of his favourite halls and would see us later. The rest of us sat down to discuss the campaign.

  Aethelric talked of the battle and then the negotiations with Bernicia. Frowning as he heard about the treaty, Aelle reluctantly agreed to the arrangement, realising that he really had no choice. But, I got the feeling that he wished he had been there and seeing the expressions on the faces of the nobles, I think many of them felt this too. For, we knew that he would have put up a bigger fight than his son did.

  Then, Aelle called Father and me forward and we stood side by side in front of him.

  “It’s time for some reordering of my realm,” he said. “Lord Cenred, your action in persuading Aethelfrith to come to our aid saved the army at Catraeth and − as a result − our land. Lord Wallace died bravely saving my son and I honour his memory. But now, Wicstun needs a new master. Wallace left no heir so to you, Cenred of the Villa, I grant the estates of Wicstun and the title of Lord of the South Marches.”

  My father must have known that this was likely, because he did not act surprised, unlike me − gawping at my father like an idiot.

  “Thank you, my Lord, I’m honoured,” Father said, in a hoarse voice and I could tell that the often gruff man was touched.

  “Cerdic, son of Cenred of the Villa, I have heard the words of the Lords Harald and Sabert who have sung your praises.” I looked at Sabert in surprise and Aelle saw the glance and smiled. “In particular, Lord Sabert has said that it was your insistence that you stay and your unfaltering faith in your father’s arrival, that saved the army. More than that, your defence of the gate at Stanwick camp at the critical moment and the slaying of Owain enabled the Bernicians to join a battle, rather than have to fight Owain’s army after he had slaughtered you all.”

  I nodded at Sabert and for the first time, he smiled at me.

  “So, it is with great pleasure and with your father’s permission, that I grant you the title of Lord of the Villa, under your father’s overlordship.”

  My head spun at that news. I was a lord now. Was it that many days since I was, more or less, a farm boy?
I was unable to find a word to say, so I just bowed. As I came back up, my father placed a hand on my shoulder.

  “You make me proud, son. Cuthwine would have been so, too.”

  How my life would have been different if Cuthwine had lived. Would he have taken command of the company in Elmet? Would it have been he who fought Owain at the gates of the fortress of Catraeth? Then, would it have been my brother standing here in front of the King, confirmed as the new Lord of the Villa? At that moment, I realised that I would have given up all of these triumphs and willingly passed the glory to him, if only he was alive today.

  “Now,” Aelle went on, his voice suddenly stern, “there is one more matter we must attend to.”

  I was not surprised when Hussa was led out, his wrists bound tightly behind his back. One of Aelle’s house guards pushed him down and he was made to kneel in front of the King.

  Aelle then called my father to give an account of all that Hussa had done and went on to summon other witnesses who confirmed that Hussa had been seen alongside Owain and Samlen and was in fact Samlen’s trusted lieutenant.

  Finally, the King turned to my half-brother.

  “Have you anything to say in defence, before I pass judgement?”

  Hussa just glared at him and said nothing.

  “You understand that you stand accused of treason and that the penalty for betraying your country is death?”

  Hussa spat on the ground at the King’s feet.

  “My country?” he asked, “What has my country done for me? I had more honour and reward in Elmet and in the service of Owain and Samlen, than I ever had here. Here I was just an unrecognised bastard son, whilst there I was a lord.”