The Great Heathen Army

by H A CULLEY

  I explained about Dudda and his wife’s plea to him for immediate payment of the wergeld.

  ‘And I assume that you cannot pay her at the moment?’

  ‘No, not without borrowing part of the sum, lord.’

  ‘It seems to me that you had just cause for punishing this man, but not to kill him, of course. My bedchamber is not my court but, if you want my advice, I would recommend offering half now and half next year. It’s a reasonable compromise that I could probably agree to,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘Thank you lord; that is most helpful.’

  ‘Now I think you had better take your leave before my daughter and your brother make fools of themselves.’

  Alric looked abashed at having been caught making cow’s eyes at the girl but Guthild seemed not in the least perturbed.

  ‘Father, you grow fanciful in your old age,’ she reprimanded him.

  I glanced behind me as we left the chamber and I caught Guthild looking thoughtfully at Alric’s receding back. I’d heard of love at first sight but I didn’t believe in it. The love between Leofflæd and I had taken time to blossom and grow. We went back to Tunbehrt’s hall but he hadn’t yet returned. I was about to give up and go home, intending to try again in a few days’ time, when a harassed looking messenger arrived.

  ‘I’ve been seeking you for two days, lord,’ he said handing me a letter.

  It was an invitation for Alric and myself to dine with the king that evening. It came as rather a surprise and I wondered what we had done to deserve such an honour. My next thought was that we were dressed for riding, not dining in the king’s hall, and there was no time to ride back to Silcestre and return in time. There was no alternative but to spend some of my precious silver on new clothes for us both.

  Leaving our weapons with the gatekeeper, we strode into the king’s hall wearing our newly acquired robes that reached the ground and more or less hid our riding boots. Frankly we were rather young to wear such clothes – they were normally the garb of older nobles and wealthy merchants – but they were cheaper than buying new embroidered tunics, fine wool trousers and shoes.

  I’d expected to eat in the main hall along with the royal household but we were shown into a side room where there was a table and seven chairs. This was obviously going to a more intimate affair. I was intrigued.

  Ælfred and Pӕga entered the room shortly after we had and we were served a goblet of mead by two pages, one of whom I recognised as the boy who had met us at the gate of the royal compound what seemed like ages ago, but was in reality only nine months. The king and the Lady Wulfthryth joined us and I was so busy bowing my head that at first I didn’t see the girl with them. To my utter astonishment it was Guthild. She kept her eyes demurely on the ground but every once in a while she would look at Alric under lowered lashes.

  ‘Stop gawping,’ I hissed quietly at him. ‘You look like a stranded fish.’

  He had the grace to blush and I didn’t think anyone had noticed until I saw Ælfred glancing speculatively at the two of them. Thankfully Guthild was seated at one end of the table and Alric at the other. I sat beside my brother with Ælfred on my other side. The king sat in the centre with his wife on his other side and Pӕga was between her and Guthild.

  It was a simple meal with two meats, various root vegetables and bread to mop up the juices. Æthelred and Pӕga ate with gusto whilst Ælfred pecked at his food sparingly. The two ladies ate nearly as much as the king and his hereræswa but did so in a manner that made it less obvious. I was nervous and ate more than Ælfred but I can’t say I enjoyed it. Alric consumed barely anything.

  Once the platters were cleared away and we had cleaned our fingers in bowls of water brought by the pages Æthelred cleared the room and even the two sentries left us.

  ‘I have asked you all here because of the continuing threat posed by the heathens,’ the king began.

  ‘I thought that they were still at Eforwic,’ Pӕga said, looking surprised.

  ‘And so most of them are, but it doesn’t mean that they’ll stay there,’ Æthelred pointed out. ‘In fact, I received tidings today indicating that Ívarr may have already left, heading north-west with about a third of the pagan horde.’

  ‘That’s good news isn’t it, cyning?’

  ‘Not necessarily; he may be linking up with more Norsemen from Irlond. There are also reports that some groups of Danes have been seen heading south-east back towards the Kingdom of the East Angles.’

  ‘More good news,’ Pӕga said, looking pleased. ‘The further they are away from Wessex the better.’

  ‘The land of the East Saxons and Cent aren’t far away from there and they are part of Wessex,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Besides,’ Ælfred added, ‘we can’t allow them to pick off the other Anglo-Saxon kingdoms one by one or we’ll end up being isolated.’

  ‘That’s why I have decided to strengthen our alliance with Mercia,’ the king said. ‘My brother has been betrothed to the Lady Ealhswith, daughter of a prominent Mercian ealdorman and a descendent of King Coenwulf of Mercia. That’s where you come in, Jørren.’

  ‘Me, cyning?’

  ‘Yes, I need a good escort to bring the Lady Ealhswith here to Wintanceaster from Torksey in Lindesege where she is at the moment. If the rumours of Danes in that area are true, then they are probably the vanguard of the main heathen horde. I’m not sending a larger group to escort her because I don’t want a confrontation with the Danes. Your job, and that of your men, is to sneak her out of there and bring her safely back to Wessex. Can I rely on you?’

  ‘Yes, cyning of course.’

  ‘You won’t want a load of hysterical women as well but Ealhswith will need a lady with the appropriate status as a companion and as a chaperone. I have therefore asked the Lady Guthild to perform that function. There is no one I know with a more level head on her shoulders, except of course my beloved wife.’

  If Wulfthryth felt patronised, she hid it well. I could feel Alric getting excited at the prospect of being in Guthild’s company for weeks, perhaps months. I groaned to myself.

  ‘But what about Guthild’s father? Doesn’t he need her love and care, cyning?’

  ‘It was Ealdorman Merewald who suggested his younger daughter to me,’ the king replied with a smile. ‘But it is good of you to show such concern for him, Jørren.

  ‘Of course,’ he went on. ‘I don’t expect you and your men to undertake this task for nothing. Would two hundred shillings seem an appropriate reward?’

  I started. Had the king chosen the same amount as the wergeld I owed Dudda’s family by chance? His next remark answered that.

  ‘And if I were you, I would hesitate to grant his wife’s request to take on the tenancy of Dudda’s former farmstead.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Spring to Autumn 869

  My first problem was Leofflæd. She insisted on coming with us and nothing I said could dissuade her. I had to agree that having another female along on the mission made a lot of sense but, not only was I worried about her getting hurt, but I needed someone to stay and look after the vill; and, of course, our baby daughter.

  Redwald had recently got married to a girl in the settlement and, as reeve, he would be staying anyway. He and his bride moved into the hall pro tem and, as the baby had a wet nurse, that seemed to solve the problem. It didn’t stop me worrying though; both about Leofflæd and about Cuthfleda. I’d heard too many tales about babies and infants dying suddenly to be entirely happy. Leofflæd didn’t seem to share my concerns and so I tried to push them to the back of my mind.

  I set off with Guthild, my wife and seventeen other warriors on a cloudy day in late March. We needed to travel swiftly and so we took no carts, only pack horses. There would be no grand pavilion for the Lady Ealhswith either. We only took small leather tents with us that could sleep two people. She would have to share with Guthild on the return journey. I took a spare tent as well on the assumption that Ealhswith would have a maid.

/>   We stayed that first night in the monastery at Oxenaforda having covered just over forty miles, with which I was pleased. We were now inside Mercia but there was still a long way to go; another one hundred and fifty miles if my information was correct.

  We were able to use the old Roman roads as far as Lindocolina. From there Torksey was only ten miles to the north-west. However, I decided to leave the Roman road known as the Fŏsweg at Newercha and follow the River Trisantona north to Torksey.

  As we had reached the area where Danish patrols had been reported a few weeks ago, we advanced with even more care than usual; and it was just as well that we did.

  My warband were a pretty tight-knit group. We had been through a lot together, some of it pretty harrowing for young men our age, and each of us had our own demons to fight. However, we trusted each other and seldom fell out. The one exception was Wolnoth. He was an orphan who had trained from the age of eleven to be one of Edmund of Bebbanburg’s scouts. He had joined me, along with the late Ealdorman Edmund’s other scouts two years ago.

  Wolnoth always kept himself to himself. He was a good tracker, hunter and pathfinder but he seemed to prefer his own company to that of others. We had camped for the night beside the Trisantona some ten miles south of Torksey. I intended to approach the vill on foot with the utmost caution early the next day. The others had teased Wolnoth because he seemed aloof from the jovial comradeship around the campfire and he had stormed off. I had followed him intending to have a private conversation with him. It was evident that something was bothering him but I couldn’t think what it could be.

  He walked past the sentry hidden in the edge of the trees and went deeper into the wood, muttering something to himself. I was fifty yards behind him when he froze and dropped silently to the ground. I took cover beside a bush, drawing my dagger as I did so, and tried to see in the poor light cast through the canopy by a new moon what had alarmed the lad.

  I was still peering into the gloom when I sensed a presence beside me. I turned and nearly thrust my dagger into the person beside me until I realised it was Wulnoth. I knew he was a good scout, but to have moved so close to me without me realising meant that he was exceptional.

  ‘Danes,’ he breathed almost inaudibly into my ear. ‘Perhaps forty or fifty of them camped two hundred yards that way.’

  We withdrew as quickly as we could without making a noise. When we got back to our encampment I gestured to everyone to be quiet and kicked dirt over the fire to put it out. When everyone had huddled close enough to hear my muted voice I told them about the Danes.

  ‘What do we do? Leave quietly?’ Alric asked.

  ‘No, that would just risk running into them later. We need to eliminate them.’

  ‘Eforwic,’ Sæwine muttered, spitting to show his distaste for what we had had to do that night.

  ‘Precisely. We do the same now as we did then. We kill the guards and then kill them as they sleep. I know it is asking a lot of you. Some still have nightmares about killing defenceless men, but it’s the safest course of action. I won’t think badly of anyone who wants to stay here and guard the horses.’

  To their credit no one did, so I decided that Sæwine and Wulnoth should stay. Both protested but I told them firmly that it was an order. I also asked Leofflæd to stay behind but she said that she could kill a sleeping Dane just as ruthlessly as anyone else and wouldn’t hear of it.

  We left our armour and weapons behind. Leofflæd and I took our bows, just in case, but all we would need, hopefully, would be our daggers.

  The Danes were laughing and drinking around five separate campfires. At first I couldn’t see any sign of sentries but then they changed over. There were four in all, assuming that they all changed at the same time: three at the edge of the trees around the campsite and one by the horse lines. Their horses were tethered to three long ropes tied between trees in a patch of open grassland so that they could graze. As we watched several boys brought leather buckets from a nearby stream and watered each horse in turn. When they’d finished they lay down to sleep in front of the horses, watched over by the sentry.

  ‘They’re thralls,’ Erik whispered in my ear. ‘We can’t kill them.’

  I agreed, but I couldn’t risk them giving the alarm either.

  ‘Did you see how many there were?’ I asked him.

  ‘I counted seven. Wait; I’ll check with Ulf.’

  A few minutes later he returned.

  ‘He agrees, there were seven.’

  ‘Right. As soon as the warriors turn in take seven men with you. You deal with the sentry and tell the others to keep their hands over the mouths of the thralls to keep them quiet until you and Ulf can explain to them that we’ve come to set them free. Select who you want to take with you and warn them, but wait for three owl calls in quick succession before you move. Clear?’

  ‘Have you got enough to deal with so many Danes?’

  ‘No, once you have finished bring the boys here and leave them with Ulf. Make sure they move quietly though. We’ll have taken care of the other sentries by then. All of us, less Ulf, can then move in and cut the throats of the sleeping men.’

  It sounded alright in theory, but it didn’t work out like that. Uurad made a botch of killing his sentry and the man was able to shout a warning before Uurad cut his throat. Unsurprisingly, that alerted the sleeping Danes.

  Thankfully my men did what they’d been instructed to do if my plan failed; they melted back into the woods and headed for our campsite. We’d left everything packed and ready so all we had to do was to ride away. My only concern was how quickly the Danes could mount up and pursue us.

  That is, everyone did what I’d said except for Erik and Ulf. Erik had the presence of mind to tell the thralls he’d set free to grab the leading reins of as many horses as possible whilst he and Ulf cut through the ropes to which they were tied. Erik then led the boys and the horses away into the woods whilst Ulf stayed and cut the throats of the three horses that the boys hadn’t managed to lead away.

  We were just about to leave when Erik arrived with the herd of horses. Now that the Danes were afoot we had a little more time and so we waited for Ulf. When he arrived I congratulated him and Erik on their initiative and, with the former thralls each riding behind one of my warriors and the rest leading a number of horses, we retraced our steps upstream. We were just in time as we heard the angry Danes crashing through the woods looking for us as we left.

  Ϯϯϯ

  Once we were five miles away we stopped and headed deeper into the woods beside the river to catch a few hours’ sleep before dawn. I now had a problem. There were now some fifty angry Danes between us and our goal of Torksey. Moreover, if they managed to return to the main body of the Viking horde there would be a lot more than fifty searching for us. We had to find them and kill them, and do it as quickly as possible.

  The boys we had rescued from servitude were a mixture of Northumbrians from Eforwic and Mercians from Lindesege. All were orphans, or thought that their parents must be dead or enslaved. They were aged from ten to thirteen and so too young to be trained as warriors. I had no idea what to do with them, but that was a problem for another day.

  They told us that there were thirty eight Danes. Having killed four, that left thirty four. It was still a lot, but it was better than fifty.

  Leaving the boys and all the spare horses with Leofflæd, Guthild and Alric, I rode off with the rest in search of the Danes. It didn’t take long to find them. They were walking disconsolately along the track downstream. We headed eastwards into the scrubland that lined the river at this point until I was sure that we were out of sight and sound from the Danes. Then we raced north to rejoin the riverside track some three miles north of where we’d last seen them. We couldn’t be far from Torksey by now and so time was of the essence.

  The terrain here couldn’t have been better for our purposes. It was wooded again, but the trees were well spaced with shrubs growing under them. We left Jerrick who was
probably our worst archer, with the horses and each climbed a tree from where we had a good view of the track but which was a good fifty to a hundred yards back. Then we waited, but not for long.

  The Danes were strung out, walking along in small groups with no scouts out. They all looked to be young and only one was wearing a byrnie. I hooted thrice like an owl and arrows rained down on the column. A few seconds later, whilst the Danes were still wondering what was happening, a second volley tore into them, then a third. By this time nearly half of the enemy were dead or wounded and the other half were running in all directions.

  ‘Concentrate on the ones heading north,’ I yelled, taking careful aim at the man in the byrnie.

  He was older than the rest and presumably their leader. My arrow took him in the back and he fell on his face, but the chain mail had robbed my arrow of much of its penetrating power. However, his helmet had come off when he fell. I let another one fly and this time I hit him in the back of the neck as he struggled to rise. He fell back to the ground and didn’t move again.

  I glanced around me. Several more Danes were down, including all those who had tried to escape along the track. The dozen or so who were left had finally got themselves organised and had formed a shield wall to protect themselves from our arrows. Holding their shields in front of them and over their heads, they started to edge sideways, heading north. We came down out of the trees and formed up facing them. Although we now outnumbered them, I wasn’t about to lose men attacking them directly.

  ‘Aim for their lower legs,’ I said, putting another arrow to my bow.

  Their shields were similar to ours, apart from the pagan symbols painted on them. They were three foot in diameter, made of lime wood, banded in bronze or iron and with a central metal boss. On most men they covered from the lower face to the knees. That left their shins and feet exposed. Arrows that hit the shin bone cut the skin but did little other damage. However, puncturing the calf muscle behind the shin bone or the feet could immobilise a man, at least partially.