by H A CULLEY
That need came rather sooner than I had expected. I should have known that there was another motive behind Æthelred’s and Ælfred’s generosity in giving me such a fine vill as my reward for bringing Ealhswith safely to Wessex. I had just emerged from a somewhat unsatisfactory meeting with Bishop Asser when a page asked me to go with him. With a start I realised that the page was Ulfrid, Ealhswith’s youngest brother. I had assumed that he would have returned to Mercia, but apparently not.
‘Good morning, Jørren. I assume that Basingestoches is to your liking?’
I nearly replied that it was, save for its priest, who Asser had just refused to move, but I bit my tongue.
‘Yes, Lord Ælfred, very much so. I am forever in your debt.’
‘Well, there is something you can do to remedy that, if you’re willing.’
My heart sank and I wondered what else I would be expected to do in return.
‘Have you heard that the wretched heathens have murdered poor King Edmund?’
He went on to tell me that Ívarr the Boneless and Ubba had tortured Edmund of East Anglia and finally killed him by using him as target practice by the few archers the Danes possessed. What made it even worse was that he’d been killed in a church and then beheaded. His corpse had been dumped in a wood for the carrion birds and animals to feast on and his head had been disposed of separately.
Ælfred had been told that local people had recovered the body for Christian burial but no one could find the head until their thegn heard someone calling to him. He went to investigate and found the head. It was impossible for a severed head to call out, of course, but the tale circulating was that Edmund had summoned the thegn himself. The martyred Edmund was already been talked of as a saint.
‘The Danes are overwintering at Theodforda. Having overrun Northumbria and East Anglia, the king is worried that they may turn their attention to Wessex next. Ēast Seaxna Rīce is an obvious target, but they may also cross the Temes into Cent after that.’
I immediately thought of my brother Æscwin at Cilleham. Instead of regarding whatever Ælfred was about to ask of me as a chore, I now wanted to help in any way I could.
‘We still have perhaps two months before they move. It’s important to know where their next target is.’
I was puzzled.
‘How can we find that out, lord?’
‘Can Erik and Ulf still pass as Danes?’
I was impressed that Ælfred had remembered their names.
‘Yes, lord. We still speak in Danish once a week to keep our skills in the language up. They would need to exchange their crucifixes for Mjolnir, of course. Presumably there is someone in Wintanceaster who can make them Viking clothes? When would you want them to leave?’
‘As soon as possible. You’re certain that they’d be willing to undertake such a dangerous task?’
‘I will have to ask them, of course, but I’m fairly certain that they will do it.’
Erik said yes straight away but Ulf was less certain.
‘What if we are recognised?’ he asked.
‘You are much older and bigger now,’ I replied. ‘Trim your moustaches and let your beards grow. That will make you look more like Vikings and it will hide your faces better. Some of the others and I will come with you until we are close to the encampment, so all you have to do is to ride the last ten miles or so on your own and keep your ears open.’
The two nodded and I went to tell my wife that I would be leaving the next day.
Ϯϯϯ
It snowed that night and by morning it was a foot deep and still coming down in flakes the size of a silver penny. It seemed that we wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. It was the end of January before the thaw started. Of course that brought its own problems with roads that were quagmires and flooded rivers whose fords were impassable. We set off eventually in the second week of February. It was dry with weak sunshine that did little to warm the ground or the air.
It might have been bitterly cold but at least the going was easy on the paved Roman roads. Even those sections where the cobbles had been taken for use elsewhere didn’t slow us down as the mud was frozen solid. Leofflæd had perforce stayed at home this time as she was expecting our second child, so I had taken Cei, Jerrick and Øwli in addition to Erik and Ulf from Basingestoches. I had also sent for Swiðhun and Wolnoth from Silcestre. To bring our number up to ten I had decided to take two of the older boys we had rescued the previous year along for the experience. They were called Hunulf and Ædwulf; both were thirteen and had showed promise, both as hunters and as archers.
We made good progress, staying for the first two nights at monasteries in Certesi and Lundenwic. The cold snap had ended by the time we left on the third day but, although it was warmer, drizzle permeated everything, making us cold and wet.
It took us two more days to reach Grantebrycge where we would leave the Roman road network and head north-east for the final thirty miles or so to Theodforda along muddy tracks. By now the weather had improved and so I decided to camp off the main thoroughfare some eight miles short of the Danes’ encampment. The next morning Erik and Ulf changed clothes and helmets and we prayed together before I took their crucifixes from them and handed them two Mjolnir in their place.
When they had left for the final leg of the journey, I went into the wood to be by myself. I don’t think I have ever felt so apprehensive in my life. They had become like brothers to me, as had many of the others, and I knew I would fret until they returned safely.
They didn’t come back that day and my anxiety increased. I was on the point of doing something stupid, like going to look for them, when they returned, smiling and laughing as if they didn’t have a care in the world. I could have cheerfully killed them for putting me through the most miserable twenty four hours of my life. However the news they brought made me worry all over again.
‘We selected a camp fire with a few young warriors like us around it,’ Ulf began. ‘As you know, we took the four trout we’d caught earlier and we gutted these and put them into the cauldron with the grain and the vegetables already in there. We gathered that food was running short and so our contribution was welcomed.’
‘Anyway,’ Erik interrupted, ‘they asked us why we had joined them instead of eating with our own companions. We said that we’d had an argument with our jarl and thought it best if we made ourselves scarce until he’d calmed down. They laughed and that was that. I’d expected more questions and had more details prepared, but in the end it wasn’t necessary. I think they were just glad to have the fish.’
‘They started moaning about the cold and the wet. They are really looking forward to being on the move again,’ Ulf continued.
‘Did they say what their target is in the spring?’ Swiðhun asked impatiently.
‘I was coming to that,’ Ulf said, aggrieved at being interrupted.
One thing that Erik and Ulf liked, like all Scandinavians, was a good story and they took exception to being rushed.
‘They started talking about how rich Wessex was,’ Erik said, taking up the tale. ‘So I asked them if they didn’t think Mercia was a better target. They laughed at me and said that there was more plunder to be had in Wessex.’
‘Then one of them said that it was a pity that Ívarr had fallen out with Ubba. I said that I hadn’t heard about this and he told me that Ívarr and a thousand men would be returning to Eforwic before travelling north and crossing to Irlond.’
‘You’re sure about this?’ I asked. ‘That means that there will be less than fifteen hundred of them left if they do attack Wessex. Did you get any more information?’
‘Unfortunately they were too junior to know any details, but one of them did say that he’d heard that Wintanceaster was full of gold.’
‘Wintanceaster?’ I said, surprised. ‘So they don’t intend to raid in Ēast Seaxna Rīce and Cent?’
‘Ēast Seaxna Rīce, yes; it’s on their route. They speculated whether they would be able to take Luden
wic on the way but their objective was definitely Wintanceaster.’
This was disastrous tidings, and not only for Æthelred and Ælfred. Both my vills lay in the path of the invaders.
Ϯϯϯ
We made it back to Wintanceaster in four days. The weather stayed dry, if bitterly cold, until the last day when light snow started to fall. I sent my men back to their respective vills with instructions to speed up the training of the fyrd whilst I went on with Erik and Ulf to see the king and Ælfred.
At first Æthelred didn’t believe us but, after Ælfred had questioned Erik and Ulf in detail, the king was convinced and gave them a pouch of silver each. They left us after thanking the king slightly too fulsomely for my liking. They had never thanked me like that, but then again I hadn’t rewarded them so generously, judging by the weight of the pouches they’d been given.
The door closed behind them and I was left alone with the king and his brother.
‘Which way do you think they’ll come?’ Æthelred asked me.
‘Well if they do take Lundewic, or at least try, they will probably take the old Roman road to Silcestre and then take the road south-west to here.’
‘Via Basingestoches?’
‘Yes,’ I agreed glumly.
‘Then we need to stop them before they get too far into Wessex,’ Ælfred said.
‘We also need to warn King Burghred,’ Æthelred added, ‘so that he can defend Ludenwic.’
The boundary between Mercia and Wessex ran along the River Temes. The road crossed the Temes via a bridge at Stanes, which was therefore the point at which the road entered Wessex. It was there that Æthelred decided to make a stand.
Having decided to call an emergency meeting of the Witenaġemot to be held at Wintanceaster in ten days’ time, the king let me go and I returned to Basingestoches to prepare for war.
In early June we received word that the Danes had overrun Ēast Seaxna Rīce and then in August we learned that their attack on Ludenwic had been repulsed by the Mercians. Unfortunately Burghred’s hereræswa didn’t follow up this success, but had stayed safe behind its walls. We had mustered some three thousand men near Stanes by early September, but most of them were members of the fyrd. Æthelred only had a few hundred proper warriors, including his nobles, their gesith and the garrison of Wintanceaster.
My warband had been tasked to find and shadow the enemy and so at dawn the next day we crossed the two bridges at Stanes, one about twenty feet wide over the Temes and a much smaller one over a tributary which joined the main river from the north. Once across both we advanced slowly towards Ludenwic. This was rich farming land and so there were few woods and little cover. We therefore stayed well away from the road, but I still worried that we were very exposed.
Luckily we saw the heathen army before they saw us. It was difficult to estimate numbers but I thought that there were more than the fifteen hundred we had anticipated. Perhaps the rumours about Ívarr the Boneless heading north from Theodforda had been wrong?
It had been overcast all day and for the past hour the clouds had got darker and darker. Suddenly the heavens opened and rain pelted down. It reduced visibility to a few hundred yards and so we were able to get closer to the road without being seen.
The Danes hadn’t bothered to put scouts out and the leaders rode together in front of the column. We had found a dip in the ground in which to hide the horses whilst Erik, Ulf and I crawled forward to the lip of the hollow.
‘That’s Ubba,’ Erik whispered excitedly.
‘But Ívarr’s not there, so the story about him heading north or to Irlond must be true,’ Erik added quietly.
‘No, but Halfdan is. Who’s the other jarl riding beside him?’
‘I’ve seen him before. I’m sure that’s Brynjar, the senior jarl amongst the Norsemen.’
‘If Halfdan has left Eforwic that might explain why there appears to be more of them than we’d thought. Come on, we need to detour around them and get to the bridge before they do.’
Although many of the enemy were mounted, a sizeable contingent were on foot and so the column was moving slowly. When we appeared ahead of the Vikings there wasn’t much they could do about it. We clattered across the two bridges and I reported what we’d found to Æthelred.
The old Roman stone bridge over the Temes still existed jutting out from both banks but the centre section and the piers that supported it were now made of timber. We had intended to fire the bridge as soon as the Danes were halfway across its twenty foot span, but the heavy rain had put paid to that idea.
The enemy army came to a halt as soon as they saw our men drawn up to deny them the crossing. There was a flurry of activity before the whole heathen army moved off along the north bank of the Temes.
‘Where’s the next crossing point?’ I heard the king ask his brother.
‘I don’t think there’s another before the bridge at Readingum,’ he replied.
I knew Readingum. It was a large settlement on the south bank of the Temes. If they seized it they would have a base just inside Wessex. What was even worse, Basingestoches was less than twenty miles to the south and Silcestre was even closer, being a mere eight miles to the south-west of Readingum.
Ϯϯϯ
Only two hundred or so of our army were mounted, including my scouts. The enemy had over six hundred horses and doubtless they would race ahead to seize Readingum and its bridge. Nevertheless Ælfred was sent ahead with our horsemen in a vain effort to deny the Danes the crossing.
When we reached the southern end of the bridge we found we had just beaten the Danes to it. We started to erect a barricade across our end of the bridge whilst someone went to tell the inhabitants to evacuate Readingum.
The vanguard of the heathen army arrived shortly afterwards and saw what we were doing. A few hundred dismounted and charged across the bridge on foot and more were arriving on the far bank all the time. I thought it was hopeless but Ælfred was determined to deny them the crossing for as long as possible.
By now it had stopped raining and we were able to use our bows effectively. My men sent volley after volley at the charging Danes. However, they used their shields to protect themselves and only a few were hit. So we aimed at high trajectory to hit those in the rear instead. From the screams it seemed that our arrows were having an effect.
A minute or so later the leading heathens attacked the men manning the barricade. We shot volley after volley at the enemy pouring onto the bridge but we were now running low on arrows. Eventually Ælfred conceded that we were fighting a losing battle. The enemy’s casualties were far greater than ours, but we were hopelessly outnumbered.
The horses were brought forward and we ran to them as the Danes climbed over the makeshift barricade. One or two didn’t make it, but most of us, including all my men, were able to mount and gallop away through the deserted streets of Readingum.
Unless Æthelred could dislodge them, the heathen army now had a base from which they could raid at will into Wessex.
That night Æthelred and the rest of the army arrived at Silcestre and he called a meeting of all nobles in my hall. Redwald coped efficiently with having so many important guests and, although the meal he served us wasn’t exactly a feast, it was adequate and appreciated by all.
‘We have to attack the bloody heathens before they start to devastate our estates,’ Ealdorman Ethelwulf of Berrocscir maintained.
The king was more cautious, however. It was one thing to defend a river crossing but quite another to meet the experienced Vikings in the open with an army largely composed of farmers and tradesmen.
‘May I suggest something, cyning,’ I said after half an hour of discussion that had got us nowhere. ‘The Danes will no doubt ride out to plunder and pillage in groups, not en masse. I suggest that my scouts track them and then we attack these groups with overwhelming numbers.’
‘Might they not leave Readingum and make for Wintanceaster?’ someone asked.
‘Unlikely, I would hav
e thought,’ I replied. ‘It’s late in the season for campaigning and, with so many mouths to feed over the winter, my guess is that they will overwinter here before invading Wessex in the spring. Their priority now will be to gather food to last them the next few months. We need to deny them that.’
‘How?’ Ethelwulf asked succinctly.
‘By attacking their forage parties, lord.’
Ethelwulf grunted. ‘Makes sense I suppose.’
Silcestre, being the only fortified settlement in the area, became our forward base. Ethelwulf was given five hundred of the kingdom’s best warriors and he and I sat down to plan our strategy.
Chapter Thirteen
Winter 870/871
We had some successes in ambushing the Danes as they plundered the area around Readingum but we also had a few disasters. On one occasion they laid a trap for us. Whilst we were ambushing a hundred Danes several hundred more suddenly appeared and we were lucky to extricate ourselves without losing more men. Thankfully none of my scouts were killed but a few were wounded. I learned a valuable lesson that day: always keep some scouts deployed to warn of reinforcements in the area.
Christmas was a muted affair that year. Leofflæd had been safely delivered of a baby boy in December but it had been a difficult birth and she hadn’t recovered sufficiently to travel up from Basingestoches. On the last day of the year Swiðhun and Wolnoth returned from a regular patrol only a couple of hours after they had left Silcestre.
‘Jørren, the Danes have left Readingum and are moving towards Inglefelle to the west of their camp.’
‘What sort of strength?’ I asked after sending Hunulf to warn Ethelwulf that he needed to get his men ready to move.
‘Several hundred, perhaps as many as five hundred.’
‘Thank you, go and warn the warband to get ready to leave.’
We formed the vanguard for Ethelwulf’s small army as we headed due north to intercept the Danes. I sent Jerrick, Ædwulf and Øwli to the north east, just to make sure that there wasn’t another force of Danes waiting to attack us in the rear. To assault the Danes with only marginally greater numbers was a risk but, unlike most of the fyrd, our men had spent the past few months training and they were now more disciplined. Furthermore, many of them had faced the Danes in the many small skirmishes that had occurred. They therefore had some experience of real fighting.