by H A CULLEY
‘Thank you, lord. You do me great honour. I am your man now and always.’
My men could well have jeered as the boy’s pompous little speech, but they didn’t. They cheered and I noted Erik’s look of pride at his protégé.
The next day I left the inhabitants to clear up the aftermath of the fight and we continued on our way once our few minor wounds had been attended to. When we arrived at Winburne we found the settlement full to overflowing. With so many dignitaries, both secular and clerical, present I was unable to obtain accommodation in the hall, or anywhere else with a roof, and so I had to camp in the open with my men.
It was no hardship of course, and I preferred their company to that of some of the nobles present, but I felt aggrieved that, once again, no one had thought to reserve appropriate lodging for me. Later I realised that the man in charge of allocating accommodation was the king’s steward. No doubt he was exercising a petty revenge for robbing him of Bjarne’s services as a slave.
Ϯϯϯ
Before mass the next day I sought an audience with Ælfred but I was told that I would have to wait my turn by the sentry on guard outside the hall. He was in a meeting with the new Archbishop of Canterbury, Ælfric, Bishop Asser and the late King Æthelred’s mother and her two sons.
‘I have information that the Danes are on the move again and are not that far from Wintanceaster,’ I hissed at him. ‘Now, announce me or take the consequences.’
Wisely the man scuttled inside to have a quiet word with Ælfred. A second or two later he reappeared, leaving the door open for me to enter. I walked in and saw that there was another man near Ælfred who I didn’t recognise. Everyone looked at me in annoyance because of my interruption but he positively glared at me.
‘This better be important, Jørren,’ Ælfred barked at me. ‘What’s this about the Danes? My latest information is that they are still ensconced at Readingum.’
‘Yesterday I defeated a patrol fifty strong who were attacking Basingestoches, lord. That’s all I know, but I suggest we should send out patrols to find out what exactly is going on. We are isolated down here in the south of the kingdom.’
‘It’s my job to advise the king on what action, if any we need to take,’ the stranger snapped.
‘The king is dead, in case you’ve forgotten, Lord Eadda’ the Lady Wulfthryth, said with some venom, ‘and the Witenaġemot has yet to meet and choose his replacement.’
Eadda was a name I’d dimly remembered hearing before. He was a king’s thegn from Sūþrīgescir who I’d heard mention of as a fearsome fighter. Perhaps he was the new hereræswa? If so, he wasn’t introduced to me. Perhaps Ælfred was too embarrassed to do so?
‘Of course, lady,’ Eadda said smoothly, but his tone implied that there was only one ӕtheling who was a candidate.
No one in his right mind was going to choose the twelve-year old Æthelhelm or his ten year old brother, Æthelwold. Both were too young to rule, especially at a time of crisis like this. However, Wulfthryth could be expected to promote her sons cause regardless.
Ælfred thought for a moment.
‘What Ealdorman Jørren said makes sense. If the Danes are causing trouble again we need to know about it. Eadda, please send out scouts towards both Basingestoches and Readingum to see what they can find.’
‘Yes, lord,’ Eadda said with a curt nod and left the hall.
He would do as he was bid but it was evident that he thought it all a waste of time. I didn’t understand his antipathy towards me at the time, although I later realised that he thought of me as a rival for his appointment and would do almost anything to discredit me.
I bowed to Ælfred and Wulfthryth and took my leave. However, I didn’t return to my tent. Instead I went to find Cei and the rest of my warriors.
‘I’m sorry to wake you but I have a task for you,’ I told them when they had gathered outside their tents. ‘We need to find out if the heathen army is still in Readingum. Eadda, who I believe may be the new hereræswa, has been told to send out his own scouts to see what the Danes are up to, but I have reason to believe that they won’t try very hard. Make sure you avoid them as well as the Danes. Report back to me, and only to me.’
Ϯϯϯ
It was three days before they returned. During that time King Æthelred had been buried with all due ceremony, the Witenaġemot had met and elected Ælfred to the throne, much to the disgust of Æthelwold in particular, and the new king had been crowned by Archbishop Æthelred. Most of the dignitaries who’d been in attendance had departed and Eadda’s scouts had returned having found no sign of the Danes.
As they had only been away for just over a day, that was hardly surprising. There hadn’t been time for them to cover the return journey of one hundred and fifty miles, make a cautious approach to Readingum and ascertain how many Danes were left there, let alone locate the main body of the enemy if they weren’t there.
When my men came back they had not only found Readingum practically deserted, they had located the Danes encamped at Turkilestun, some fifty miles south-west of Readingum. I puzzled over this before going to see King Ælfred. Obviously Wintanceaster wasn’t the target; they were too far to the west. The only thing I could think of was that they were heading for Wiltun, the previous capital of Wessex. Perhaps they thought that the treasury was still there?
I went to see the king and took Cei and Erik with me. This time I had no problem being admitted and found Ælfred talking to Eadda.
‘Ah, Jørren; just the man,’ the king said greeting me with a smile.
The warmth of his welcome contrasted sharply with Eadda’s scowl.
‘I was telling Eadda about the wall around your vill of Silcestre and the palisade that you are erecting around Ferendone. I’m convinced that it’s the only way to defend Wessex against the Danes. Inside these burhs we can protect the people and prevent the enemy from controlling the immediate area.’
‘They are a waste of effort and money, cyning,’ Eadda said derisively. ‘The Danes will either ignore them or pen our people inside until they starve to death.’
‘I agree with the king,’ I replied, shaking my head. ‘The Danes don’t have siege engines and they would lose many men trying to scale the walls. Halfdan and Ubba are already highly unpopular for the number of dead they have incurred so far. They won’t risk losing significant numbers attacking a burh. As to starving the inhabitants, we must ensure that all available food and animals are housed in the burhs. That will also prevent the Danes from foraging.
‘As to controlling the area, no burh should be more than twenty miles away from the next burh. We need to build a network of herepaths, based on the old Roman road system, to interconnect these burhs. This would mean that our people could reach safety quickly and our warriors will be able to congregate swiftly to fight the heathens wherever they appear. Lastly I suggest a system of beacons on the hilltops to give warning of any attack.’
Ælfred positively beamed at me whilst Eadda spluttered, trying to find fault with my suggestions. All he could come up with was the expense of doing as I had proposed.
‘That’s true,’ I conceded. ‘But can we afford not to. The Danes are losing men, but so are we. The harvest is disrupted and settlements and farmsteads are laid waste. Furthermore, the burhs could also be safe havens in which trade and manufacturing can carry on. Armouries, blacksmiths, royal mints and trading posts could all be sited within the burhs; and they could be used as supply depots for our army.’
‘It’s a fantasy. How long is all this going to take, and who is going to pay for it?’ Eadda demanded.
‘We all must. We have to rid Wessex of this scourge or we will all end up as thralls,’ Ælfred declared in a tone that brooked no argument.
In response Eadda threw up his hands in despair. Cei coughed politely at my side, which brought me back to the reason I was here.
‘Cyning, this isn’t why I needed to see you. The heathen army has left Readingum, all but a small handful that is.
My scouts found them at Turkilestun, fifty miles to the south-west. My guess is that they are making for Wiltun, a day’s march from where they were yesterday.’
‘Why did you send out your men; I’d already send out mine,’ Eadda demanded loudly.
‘It seems it’s a good job I did. Yours didn’t find the enemy, did they?’ I retorted.
‘Quiet!’ Ælfred shouted. ‘I won’t tolerate this unseemly behaviour – from either of you. Why Wiltun?’ he continued in a normal voice.
‘It’s where the treasury used to be, cyning,’ I said quietly whilst Eedda continued to glower at me. ‘Perhaps someone has told the Danes it’s still there.’
‘How many men do we have available?’ he asked Eadda, seemingly having reached a decision.
‘Just your gesith, cyning, and the local fyrd. Perhaps two hundred men in all.’
‘We’ll just have to hope messengers can catch up some of those who have just departed. We leave within the hour.’
Thankfully two of the other ealdormen and their households hadn’t yet departed. They and their escorts made our total up to three hundred. I sent riders to Silcestre and Basingestoches to send every available man; my other vills were too far away. Ælfred’s messengers managed to raise five hundred more so that, by the time that Wiltun hove into view we had around a thousand men. Howevere, a significant number of them had little or no battle experience. It wasn’t much of an army with which to tackle over two thousand Danes.
Chapter Fifteen
May 871
We camped three miles south of Wiltun and I sent my scouts forward to find out what was happening in the settlement. Eadda had protested loudly at the use of my men instead of his scouts, but the king had evidently lost faith in Eadda’s men after he’d been misled by them. I had a feeling that the new hereræswa was treading on quite thin ice.
They returned with the news that the settlement had been pillaged and burnt. The Vikings were encamped a mile outside it on the north bank of the narrow river that ran to the south of Wiltun. I asked Erik for an estimate of numbers and he thought that there were no more than fifteen hundred. It was enough. King Ælfred had significantly fewer and the majority of them were local levies; farmers who were poorly equipped and trained.
‘Our only chance is a night attack,’ I told the king when he called a meeting of his senior nobles.
‘Too dangerous,’ Eadda responded immediately, ‘men get lost in the dark or attack each other.’
‘I’m not talking about the fyrd,’ I replied, trying to keep my temper. ‘I’ll take fifty men, burn their tents and run off their horses. It’ll unsettle them and reduce their morale. With any luck we’ll kill a few as well.’
‘Waste of time,’ Edda muttered. ‘Go ahead and get yourself killed. You’ll not be missed.’
‘That’s enough!’ Ælfred said sharply. ‘Eadda, if you can’t say anything constructive, don’t say anything. Jørren, perhaps it’s worth a try, but don’t risk men’s lives. We’ve few enough as it is.’
I nodded and left the king’s tent to go and find Alric. I hadn’t seen him since the meeting of the Witenaġemot but someone had told me that he and his men had joined the army yesterday.
‘Perhaps we should use fire arrows,’ my brother suggested, after we had embraced.
We had grown close again after his rescue but somehow we had gradually become more distant from each other. Perhaps it was because others had become close friends and the old intimacy wasn’t there anymore? I was therefore surprised how much I had missed him when we both went our separate ways. Now we were reunited I realised how fond I was of him, but I’m not sure he felt the same way. Perhaps he was envious of the fact that I had children and he did not. My musings were interrupted when he spoke again.
‘It’ll cause confusion and do damage without risking our men’s lives.’
It was a good idea. Undoubtedly the Danes would charge into the woods surrounding their camp, seeking revenge. My warband were adept at killing quietly at night and we could ambush small groups of Danes once they were isolated from the rest.
I gave Alric the task of killing the sentries at the horse lines and running off the animals whilst I took forty bowmen up wind of the enemy camp. Just before we parted Alric said something which I ignored at the time and bitterly regretted later.
‘By the way, there were four men asking after you earlier today. They looked like experienced warriors, but they were more than that; I got the distinct impression that they were professional killers.’
‘Perhaps my reputation had spread. Maybe they wanted to join me?’
‘I don’t think so. They didn’t strike me as men who admired you; quite the opposite.’
I shrugged.
‘We leave at midnight.’
Ϯϯϯ
It was a balmy night for late May when we moved into position. It was dry with a moderate wind blowing towards the enemy camp from where we stood. More warriors stood concealed in the wood behind us.
Øwli and Cei had already checked that there were no sentries in the trees. The nearest ones, as far we could tell, were around the dying embers of the campfire nearest to us. We had built several fire pits at the edge of the trees where low fires burned just enough to enable us to set alight the oily scraps of cloth wrapped around the sharp end of our arrows.
When an owl hooted three times I knew that Alric had taken care of the sentries at the horse lines and I drew back my bowstring and sent my first flaming arrow speeding towards the nearest tent. Like us, the Danes oiled their leather tents to keep out the rain. Unfortunately this made them extremely flammable. The first tents hit went up with a whoosh and the fire spread so quickly that the men sleeping inside were either burnt to death or died of smoke inhalation.
Some reacted quickly enough to escape, but some of those were already on fire and ran around seeking a means to put out the flames. All they succeeded in doing was to spread the fires.
The four sentries had got to their feet when the fire arrows first hit home, only to be killed by more fire arrows. One fell into the remains of their campfire, scattering the smouldering firewood. The grass around the campfire was dry and caught light. Aided by the wind, the flames spread to the dry grass all around, adding to the confusion.
We sent four more volleys of fire arrows into the heart of the camp and then retreated into the woods. As expected, the furious Vikings charged after us. Some of the young boys training to be scouts collected our bows and quivers as we joined the others already waiting behind trees to ambush our pursuers.
I brought my breathing under control and waited silently, crouching behind a bush, for a Dane to appear. I was so intent on listening for their approach, coming from the direction of the camp, that I neglected my rear. I heard a soft footfall behind me and was in the process of turning to see who it was when I felt a sudden blinding pain in my head and I knew no more, slipping into oblivious unconsciousness.
When I awoke it was with a splitting headache. I was tied up, gagged and blindfolded, but could see through the material that it was morning. I was lying on a hard floor that moved and jolted, adding to my discomfort. Obviously, I was in a cart and being taken somewhere. I rapidly discounted my captors as Danes. They would have just killed me out of hand.
Besides, I could hear someone speaking English nearby; English with a Northumbrian accent. It was at that moment that I remembered what Alric had told me about four men asking about me. I knew then, without being told, who my captors worked for.
I’d quite forgotten about Ceadda the murdering rapist and his father, Cynemær. The man had sworn to kill me and I wondered why I was still alive. There could only be one reason: he wanted to kill me himself, probably slowly and painfully.
When they camped that night I was dragged from the cart and tied to a tree. Shortly afterwards my blindfold was removed and the smirking face of Hroðulf, Ceadda’s accomplice, loomed into view. He unlaced his trousers and pissed all over me. His men laughed and came
to do the same. I swore at that moment that they would die, although how I was going to achieve that, trussed up and stinking of urine, I had no idea.
Ϯϯϯ
I wasn’t given anything to eat or drink that evening and my stomach started to protest. My mouth was dry and my head throbbed from the blow that had knocked me out. I have to say I’ve had better nights.
I tried to free my hands but they’d tied me up so tightly that I worried that the circulation to my hands was so restricted that the tissue might die. All I did when I tried to loosen the rope was make it worse and rub my wrists raw. Eventually I fell into a fitful sleep.
The next morning I was allowed a sip of water and my hands were untied. I had no feeling in them at first and then the rush of blood into them actually hurt. They abandoned the cart and I was helped to mount a horse. However, they tied my feet together under its belly and one of them held a leading rein so that I couldn’t ride off. It wasn’t necessary. My steed was such a sorry nag that I doubt if I could have gone more than a few yards before they caught up with me.
I could tell by the position of the sun in the sky that we were heading northwards, but I didn’t know exactly where we were. My captors avoided the main roads and stuck to small tracks. It soon became evident that they were lost. The man who was supposed to be guiding them had taken a wrong turn somewhere and an argument broke out. Hroðulf wanted to go back and find where they had gone wrong but two of the others insisted that would be foolhardy.
They might well be right. My warband were all expert trackers and, although it would have taken them until morning to find that I was missing, I hoped that they would be somewhere behind us. I felt the faint stirrings of hope, but then they faded. Ælfred would never give them permission to leave on the day of a battle. He had few enough men as it was without losing some of his best fighters.
In the end my captors decided to press on and hope they came to a settlement where they could ask for directions. However, the area seemed devoid of habitation. Rolling grassland was interspersed with woods but the only sign of life, apart from wild animals and birds, was the sheep that dotted the hillsides. I came to the conclusion that we were riding through the king’s hunting forest to the north of Sarum.