by H A CULLEY
‘Does that mean I have to stay here?’ he asked unhappily.
‘I’m sorry, but I’m the only one who can recognise my brother.’
We made our way to a wood to the north of Eforwic, well away from the fighting, so that Erik, Tove and I could change clothes. Leaving the others to watch the battle, we set off to reconnoitre the river bank.
As we were dressed as Danes we saw no point in trying to be clandestine and we rode openly down to the banks of the River Fŏs intending to make our way down it to its confluence with the Uisge to the south of Eforwic. However, we didn’t need to travel that far. There was a large lake to the east of the settlement through which the Fŏs flowed. The majority of the Danish and Norse fleet was anchored in the middle of this lake. Much of the land bordering it was marshland and I wondered how the crews reached their ships.
We rode a little further up onto a small hillock. From our vantage point I could see that the Fŏs narrowed and then broadened out again before narrowing once more before joining the Uisge. There was a bridge over this narrow section of the river which led to a second part of the settlement. This explained why the longships moored in the lake had lowered masts which lay in cradles on their decks. It had been necessary so that they could be rowed under the bridge.
This had evidently been built by the Romans as the two end spans were constructed in stone, not something that we Anglo-Saxons were very skilled at. The centre span must have collapsed a long time ago as it had been rebuilt in timber.
There was a wooden quay along the broader section of the river where ten longships were moored alongside. There were also a number of smaller rowing boats. I assumed that these were used to ferry the crews out to the ships in the lake as necessary. The general impression given was that the Danes and their Norse allies were here to stay for some time, perhaps over winter. That is, if they weren’t defeated by the Northumbrians.
What I didn’t see was any compound where the thralls and other captives might be being held. We weren’t able to ride any further because the walls around the main part of the settlement extended into the beginnings of the marsh and it barred our way. It seemed as if the only way of making further progress was to enter the settlement and make our way back to the banks of the Fŏs inside the walls.
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Then we had a stroke of luck. One of the small boats cast off from the jetty carrying a dozen men. It was being rowed by two boys who looked to be about fifteen or sixteen. Both of them were dressed in undyed coarse wool tunics and their heads had been shaved. Erik leaned across and said that both their dress and their lack of hair indicated that they were thralls.
For a moment I hoped that one might be Alric but, although they were too far away to distinguish individual features, neither looked as if they might be him. Their build and general appearance were wrong. However, they might know where he was or what fate had befallen him.
We watched as all but one of the men climbed aboard one of the longships which Tove told me was of a type called a drakkar, or dragon ship. This one had twenty holes a side meaning that it required forty rowers and he said it could hold eighty or ninety warriors. It was one of the largest moored in the lake and Erik added that it probably belonged to one of the jarls who led the Great Heathen Army. I would have liked to ask him to tell me about these leaders, but this was neither the moment nor the place.
Whilst the men set about getting the drakkar ready, the two boys started to row back whence they had come with one man sitting in the stern. He had grey hair and a long beard and was clearly quite elderly. The easiest way to explore the rest of the area was by boat and I suddenly had an idea; it was risky but I decided that it was better than trying to enter and work our way through Eforwic.
I knew that Erik had the best whistle and so I explained what I wanted. He put his fingers in his mouth and emitted a piercing sound which attracted the attention of the three in the boat. I beckoned them towards us and pointed to a small strand of shingle about two hundred yards north of where we sat on our horses.
From a distance, dressed as Danish warriors, the old man probably couldn’t see how young we were. Later the two thralls told us that he was half blind anyway. They rowed upstream and met us at the shingle beach. We dismounted and Tove held the horses whilst we walked down to the boat as it grounded on the stones.
‘What do you want? What’s so important that you needed to call us over?’ the old warrior asked in a querulous voice.
Suddenly his demeanour changed and he went to pick up the axe lying beside him on the thwart where he was sitting. I have no idea what had alarmed him, possibly our youth. Danish boys became warriors at fourteen, like us, but they didn’t wear expensive byrnies and helmets, nor did they roam the countryside on their own. He got up surprisingly quickly for a man of his age, took a pace towards us and raised his axe. Then he staggered as one of the thralls rocked the boat from side to side.
He regained his footing and was about to cleave the skull of the errant thrall in twain when Tove’s arrow took him in the throat and he toppled over the side and lay in a few inches of water as he breathed his last.
‘Well, done,’ I said in English as Erik and I climbed aboard. ‘Wait here with the horses, Tove. Good shot by the way. I felt the wind of it as it passed my cheek!’
He grinned with pleasure as he pushed the boat off the beach.
‘Help us,’ I told the two thralls, ‘and you’ll gain your freedom.’
‘The Danes hunt escaped thralls down and flay them alive to dissuade others from doing the same,’ the elder boy said gloomily.
‘He’s right,’ Erik said.
‘You’ve signed our death warrants,’ the other said with venom.
‘What I meant was, you can come with us.’
‘Who are you?’ he asked panting with the effort of rowing whilst speaking.
‘My name is Jørren and my eldest brother is the thegn of Cillium in Cent.’
The two boys looked at each other in delight.
‘I’m Jerrik and this is my younger brother, Øwli. We come from Cantwareburh.’
Both names were typically Jutish. Many families living in Cent had started to use Saxon names, ever since we became part of Wessex, but some still stuck by the old traditions.
‘Are your parents still alive,’ I asked, thinking that perhaps they could accompany Alric back to Cent if we succeeded in rescuing him.
I knew that I couldn’t return. I had stolen from my family and freed Cei, one of my brother’s slaves. And that was quite apart from the men we had killed in Hrofescӕster. Although no one there knew our names, they had our descriptions and by now someone might well have put two and two together.
‘No,’ Jerrik said sadly. ‘The bloody Danes killed them when they sacked Cantwareburh and took us captive.’
‘I seek my other brother, Alric. He was captured at the Battle of Salteode. Have you come across him?’
‘There is an Alric from Cent amongst the captives, but he was injured,’ Øwli said hesitantly.
‘Injured?’
My heart sank.
‘Yes, nothing really serious; his forearm was broken,’ he tried to reassure me.
‘And was it set properly?’
‘Yes, there were several monks captured with us and one of them splinted it. It took some time to set, but Brother Abraham said it had mended well. However, the arm muscles are wasted.’
‘Which arm?’
‘The right one, unfortunately.’
I smiled. My brother was left handed, something my father had tried to correct, but without success.
‘Where is he now?’
‘With the rest of the captives on a small island further down this river.’
‘Good! Let’s get there before anyone becomes too suspicious.’
Chapter Five
Summer and Autumn 866
To call it an island wasn’t quite accurate. It was connected to the rest of Eforwic by two narrow isthmuses; one in the n
orth and one in the south. The Danes had built palisades across both to pen the captives in. A few guards manned each palisade but there were none in the captives’ camp itself.
‘As soon as the heathens have beaten off the Northumbrians, the Danes intend to take most of the captives overseas to the slave markets in Danmǫrk and Frisia,’ Jerrik told me. ‘They don’t need that many thralls to serve the army.’
It sounded as if I had arrived just in time. As we went under the bridge and approached the so-called island I got more and more nervous. The two sentries on top of the northern palisade gave us no more than a cursory glance as we passed them but they seemed to take more interest when we pulled into the shore and Erik and I got out. Perhaps it was the fact that we had left the two thralls behind on their own that alerted them. As soon as I realised my mistake I told the two boys to tie the boat up and join us.
The four of us strolled into the camp, trying to look inconspicuous whilst searching for Alric. The place was devoid of tents or any form of shelter. The captives were fed, but not that well. Cooking pots, in which some form of porridge was cooking, were dotted here and there. Water came from the river but that was also where people defecated so it didn’t surprise me to note that some people were ill. I shuddered to think that my brother had been living in these sort of conditions. We treated our slaves much better and I was amazed that the Danes didn’t do so as well. Surely they were a valuable commodity?
Later I learned that the Danes weren’t that fussed whether or not they died; there were plenty more thralls to be had in England and, in any case, a glut of slaves depressed the market. As we meandered through the camp I glanced towards the palisade and, to my dismay, I saw the the gate open and two Danes walked through it and headed towards us.
I didn’t know whether we could brazen it out or whether we would be forced to kill them and run. My Danish was quite good by now, but I certainly didn’t sound like a native. If we were going to have to talk to them I would have to leave it to Erik. We had become friends and I hoped that I could trust him, but I wasn’t entirely certain that he wouldn’t betray me in these particular circumstances.
As I watched the two warriors wending their way through the camp towards us Erik pulled at my sleeve.
‘What do I say when they ask what we are doing here?’ he whispered.
Had we found Alric I would have said we grabbed him and ran but, although the three of us sought him amongst the throng, so far there was no sign of him. Suddenly I saw someone who looked a bit like him, but the boy was much thinner and my brother had a ruddy complexion; this lad’s was pale and wan. Alric had a shock of unruly which made him stand out hair but all of the thralls had shaven heads.
I was far from certain it was him, but then the boy stroked his nose with a bent finger, something Alric did when he was agitated. At that moment I was convinced that it had to be my brother.
He was standing by one of the cookpots and begging for some food. The woman stirring the glutinous mess inside the cauldron spat at him and told him to go away. That made me furious and I went over and struck the poor woman across the face with my open hand. I didn’t mean to hit her so hard but she must have been weak from hunger because she fell backwards and passed out. Remorse hit me like a fist in the stomach and I went to see if she was alright. However her companions had closed around me threateningly and one had picked up a hefty looking lump of firewood. They might be about to be sold as thralls, but I was a mere boy and I had angered them. They wanted revenge.
I had no option. I drew my sword and waved them back. Then two things happened. Alric recognised me and Erik was asked by the two warriors what was going on. The crowd immediately slunk away and I grabbed Alric’s arm and told him in Danish that he was to come with us.
The two Danes looked at me suspiciously. I had forgotten that my Danish would sound odd to their ears.
‘Who wants him, and why have two whelps like you been sent to collect him.’
‘Be careful Bjarke, the way they are dressed they are probably some jarl’s sons,’ the other one said nervously, looking us up and down. ‘And they have their own thralls,’ he added.
I could have hugged him. Bjarke looked unconvinced but evidently he wasn’t about to risk offending someone more powerful than he was.
‘Go on then, take him and get out of here before you start a riot.’
I had a feeling that Bjarke was more worried about that than who my father might be.
We didn’t need telling twice. With Jerrik and Øwli half carrying poor Alric we made our way back to the boat. Once we had set off to row back upstream to the lake I nearly cried with relief. I went to examine Alric but, apart from his wasted frame and even more wasted right arm, he seemed to be alright. I scooped water up with my hands once we were clear of the fouled bank and washed the dirt from his face and body. What he needed now was rest and good food; and a lot of both. We had to find somewhere safe where he could recover.
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We rode back to join the others, Alric riding with me. He was so weak that I had to sit him in front of me and keep one arm around him the whole way. Jerrik and Øwli shared a horse with the two Danish boys but they were in much better condition than Alric and rode behind Erik and Tove.
By the time we reached our vantage point the battle was over. The army of Northumbria had been routed and were fleeing from the pursing Danes.
‘What happened?’ I asked Redwald after we had put Alric in the cart and Erik had explained who the two former thralls were.
‘Some of the Danes pretended to flee back into the settlement and a third of the Northumbrians were foolish enough to follow them,’ he said grimly. ‘It was obviously a trap because none reappeared. Those who had gone after the Danes left a wide hole in the Northumbrian shield wall through which the Danes poured. They cut the left and right wings off from each other and half surrounded them. Then they started the slaughter. It didn’t take long before the rear ranks broke and ran. Soon after that the rout was complete and the Northumbrians, what was left of them, ran for their lives.’
‘I think both kings got away because I saw two mounted groups, each with a banner, riding away to the north just before the rest started to flee,’ Leofflæd added. ‘They were cowards. Had they stayed and encouraged their men they could have defeated the cursed heathens.’
I thought it unlikely but didn’t say that to her. It would have only started a pointless argument. I remembered an old adage my father had been fond of: a man who flees when all is lost lives to fight another day.
I glanced at the three Danish boys, wondering how they were reacting to the phrase cursed heathens but they kept their faces neutral. At some point I would have to remind everyone that we needed to respect each other’s beliefs if we were going to become a proper warband.
I wondered how I was going to get Alric, Jerrik and Øwli home to Cent. I couldn’t go with them but there was nothing to stop the three of them returning. However, that was a problem for another day. First I had to get Alric fit again.
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My first priority was to get well away from the Danes. Having won and kept Eforwic they would undoubtedly ravage the surrounding lands once they had sobered up from celebrating their victory. We therefore travelled north on the Old Roman road; those without horses travelling in the cart. We made slow progress and by nightfall we’d only travelled a dozen miles.
The next day we made better time. We encountered several groups of Northumbrians making their way home but they gave us a wide berth and the further north we travelled the fewer people we saw. As twilight fell we found a spot in a hollow near a stream and away from the road.
We had eaten a cold meal the previous night as I daren’t risk our campfire being seen. The hollow was deep enough for the light from a fire to be hidden and so we cooked up a stew of smoked ham, turnips, lentils, wild onions, crow garlic and chives. Tove had found the last three growing near the road as we journeyed north. I have to say it improved
the flavour of the stew no end.
Alric had a better colour now and he ate ravenously. I had to ration his food to save him vomiting it all back up again. Ecgberht had said that his stomach would have shrunk and it would take time for him to be able to eat normally again. Jerrik and Øwli didn’t have the same problem. They had been employed as ship’s boys and, although they were treated harshly, they had been fed better.
We had only gone a few miles the next day when we saw a sizeable settlement over to our left. The countryside seemed peaceful this far north and there were a number of farmers and traders making for the place. We needed decent clothes for Alric and the other two and I would buy them weapons if I could find them. We also needed more horses but I doubted whether we would find them here.
I left the three former thralls with Ulf and the cart and the rest of us rode into the settlement, leaving our horses in the stable of the only tavern. We learned that the place was called Catrӕth and it was the base of the Ealdorman of the surrounding shire. He had been at Eforwic with his gesith and the shire’s fyrd. However, none had returned so far. Word soon reached his wife that a group of boys and youths dressed as warriors had arrived and I was summoned to the ealdorman’s hall.
As we rode up the lady was standing outside the hall with a boy aged about eleven and two girls of thirteen or fourteen at her side. I dismounted and bowed. Leofflæd also dismounted and took my horse. She was dressed like a boy and looked like one apart from her hair which hung halfway down her back. The others remained mounted.
‘Have you come from the south? Do you know what has happened? Have we beaten the heathens?’ she asked anxiously.
‘We were at Eforwic when the army of the two kings attacked it, lady. I very much regret to say that the Danes won and those Northumbrians who escaped the slaughter will no doubt be making their way home.’
I had tried to put it as gently as I could but I fear that I only increased her level of anxiety.