The Great Heathen Army

by H A CULLEY

  It was after midday when we stopped again. Another argument broke out; this time two of my captors maintained that we needed to head north-east instead of north, but Hroðulf and the man who was supposed to know the area insisted that there was a danger that they might encounter Danes if they went too far to the east. It was true that only half the enemy army had been at Wiltun, but I was fairly certain that the rest would either be well to the east of us, or even back in Lundenwic.

  ‘Any fool can follow the old Roman roads,’ Hroðulf told the guide scornfully. ‘Do you have any idea where we are?’

  The man flushed with anger and his hand went to the hilt of his sword. In a flash the other three did the same and the guide forced himself to relax.

  ‘We’re in the royal hunting park north of Sarum,’ he replied stiffly.

  ‘And how big an area is that?’ Hroðulf asked.

  ‘I don’t know; perhaps three hundred square miles,’ he admitted reluctantly. ‘But we are in the northern half of it.’

  ‘Somewhere in an area of one hundred and fifty miles then?’ another man said, spitting at the guide’s feet. ‘Great!’

  The sip of water I was given did little to moisten my parched mouth and I nearly broke a tooth on the hard, stale chunk of bread that accompanied it. Despite my efforts to keep my spirits up, I was now wallowing in a pit of despair. No one knew where I was and I felt myself getting weaker on the bare subsistence diet I was given. If I didn’t try and escape soon I’d be too feeble to do so; and it would probably take another week to ride to Bernicia, where Cynemær lived.

  Later that day we emerged over a rise to see an old Roman road below us. My spirits rose. There was always traffic on such roads; in normal times at any rate. However, all I could see today was a farmer and a boy with a cart full of vegetables.

  ‘Which road is this?’ Hroðulf asked the wary farmer.

  ‘Why, the one from Acemannesceastre to Silcestre, lord.’

  Acemannesceastre meant aching men’s camp, the place the Romans had called Aqua Sulis, though there was little there now except ruins and a monastery founded by Saint David two centuries before, or so legend had it. The mention of my vill at Silcestre warmed my heart. I was even more encouraged when I heard my captors discussing which direction to head in.

  ‘Silcestre is where several old roads meet,’ the guide said excitedly. ‘There is one that goes from there due north into Mercia.’

  ‘Very well, but I want to avoid the settlement itself,’ Hroðulf said, to my intense disappointment.

  ‘Why? We need more supplies, especially bread, cheese, lentils and barley, so we’re going to have to stop somewhere and buy them,’ one of the others pointed out.

  ‘Very well, but one of us will have to stay outside the settlement with this piece of shit,’ he said, indicating me. ‘I don’t want him to have the chance of shouting for help.’

  If I was left with one man, there was a chance that I might be able to overpower him, but I suspected that they would tie me up before leaving. Unfortunately I was right.

  The others had gone for perhaps half an hour, leaving me tied to a tree, when two girls aged about twelve or thirteen entered the clearing collecting wood. My guard immediately took an interest in them and started to talk to them instead of killing them, which is what he should have done if he wanted to survive. I vaguely recognised both of them; I seemed to remember that they were twin sisters, villeins’ daughters from Silcestre. Both stared curiously at me whilst the man was trying to flirt with them and then recognition dawned in the eyes of one of them.

  I shook my head furiously to tell her not to say anything. She tugged at the sleeve of her companion and whispered something to her. Both girls immediately ran back towards the settlement, leaving my guard staring after them looking perplexed. He should have been alarmed, but he was the dimmest of the four men and he merely shrugged, scowled at me and went to the stream to refill his waterskin.

  I pleaded with him to let me have a drink and he came back with a cup full of water. I bent to drink from it but he threw it in my face with a derisory laugh. I swore to myself then that he would die of thirst if I ever managed to turn the tables.

  It seemed an age before the other three men returned but it was probably less than an hour. My heart soared when I saw that they weren’t alone. They had been disarmed and they were accompanied by Redwald, the two girls, Wealhmӕr and the other warriors I’d left to protect Silcestre.

  My guard went for his sword, but his hand fell to his side when he saw several archers aim at his chest. I wept with relief when Redwald cut me free and we embraced. He quickly released me though, apologising and saying that I stank. I did, and so I went into the stream to try and get rid of the worst of the stench.

  I promised the two girls a substantial reward after I learned that they had run back and told Redwald what they’d seen. He had already heard that there were strangers in the settlement and he put two and two together and made four. It took a little while for him and his men to locate the three strangers and then they came to rescue me.

  My initial reaction was to think that he should have freed me first, but then I realised that he’d been sensible. If Redwald had done that he might have risked losing my other captors.

  Whilst in the stream I had poured too much water down my parched throat and I was immediately sick. I soon recovered and ate and drank sparingly after that. Two days later I presided over the trial of Hroðulf and the others. I forgot about my desire to make the man who’d guarded me die of thirst; it wasn’t in my nature to be so vindictive, however much he deserved it. All four were hanged from a large oak tree beside the main road outside the settlement. I had intended to leave them there as a warning to others, or perhaps send the heads back to Cynemær, but in the end I decided it was better if he was left wondering what had happened to them. Their bodies were therefore cut down and buried deep in a wood.

  At some stage in the future I would have to kill him and his other sons to end the blood feud; otherwise he would only try again and the next time I might not be so fortunate.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Summer 871

  Wealhmær and several warriors escorted me when I returned to Ferendone a few days later, just in case there were any Danes still around, but we saw none. Leofflæd was overjoyed to see me and embraced me so hard I thought she’d crack a rib or two. She had been told that I had fled abroad to avoid fighting the Danes at Wiltun. Of course, she never believed that I would do such a thing and threatened to kill anyone who repeated the scurrilous rumour.

  She arranged a feast to celebrate my safe return and, tempted as I was to drink myself into oblivion to forget the whole miserable experience, I stayed sober enough to enjoy a proper reunion with Leofflæd in our bed that night.

  It wasn’t until the next day that I learned what had happened at Wiltun. Several of my warband who’d taken part were eager to enlighten me, but my wife had banned any talk of war during the celebrations of my safe return. However, as soon as I sat down in the hall to break my fast after morning mass the next day my warriors crowded around me.

  ‘Sit down, for the love of Christ,’ I reproved them with a smile. ‘Cei, you are my oldest friend; tell me what happened.’

  He gave me an appreciative look. He had always felt uncertain of our relationship. Although he’d been with me from the beginning, he had never forgotten his origins as a slave; and a runaway slave at that. I had a feeling that he resented the easy relations I had development with some of the other boys and young men who’d joined us as time went on. He had never really put his background behind him and, as a result, he tended to stay in the shadows. He certainly never showed his feelings openly. Now my words seemed to give him the confidence he’d lacked hitherto and he launched into the tale with gusto.

  ‘As you know, the Danes numbered some fifteen hundred whilst the king’s army was much smaller. Your brother Alric told us what happened at the war council the next morning. Eadda was
all for withdrawing but King Ælfred wouldn’t hear of it. He asked why you weren’t present and sent one of the sentries to find you. The delay annoyed the hereræswa intensely, of course, but he couldn’t conceal his delight when you couldn’t be found.’

  I wondered then if Eadda had anything to do with my disappearance. My abductors seemed to have found me remarkably easily.

  ‘No one knew where you were but we were certain that there must be a good reason for your absence,’ Cei continued. ‘Of course, Eadda claimed that you’d run away like a coward and apparently your brother had to be restrained from hitting him. Anyway, against Eadda’s advice, the king took up a position at the head of the re-entrant south of Brydancumb with the shield wall in the middle and archers along the hilltops on either flank.

  ‘The Danes came charging into the re-entrant but those in the lead stopped and formed a shield wall as soon as they realised that they were walking into a trap. However, those behind milled about, uncertain what was happening. I was with our archers who were some distance away from the thousand or so Danes in the rear, but we were above them and we were able to rain arrows down on the rear ranks, despite the long range.

  ‘Tens were killed or wounded and then tens became a hundred or more. This infuriated those Danes who were suffering casualties and they started to ascend the slopes towards us. They held their shields in front of them and this reduced the effectiveness of our volleys, but advancing like that slowed them down. The heathens were still suffering casualties but our archers were now in danger, so Ælfred ordered us to withdraw.

  ‘Meanwhile, about five hundred Danes had advanced up the re-entrant to attack our shield wall. The two clashed and appeared to be evenly matched. Of course, our warriors held the higher ground and that gave us an advantage. I saw no more as we reformed to the rear and couldn’t see what was happening.’

  Others who had been in the Saxon shield wall continued the narration but there wasn’t much more to tell. The enemy had suffered losses in the hundreds against about ninety on our side during bitter hand to hand fighting. Eventually the Danes withdrew to reform for another attack. We had evidently come off best during the clash between the two shield walls. However, the king’s forces were still outnumbered by over two to one and he’d lost the element of surprise.

  He therefore withdrew in good order leaving the Danes in control of the battlefield. Technically the day was theirs, but they couldn’t afford many more victories like that.

  The next day Halfdan and Ubba sent emissaries to Ælfred asking for a meeting. Both sides exchanged hostages and the heathen leaders met the king, Eadda and Bishop Asser in the middle of a ford over the River Nadder south of Wiltun.

  None of my men knew the details, but apparently a three-year truce had been agreed whereby the heathen army agreed to leave Wessex in return for a payment of two tons of silver. They had been true to their word and had retreated to Lundenwic. It was only later that we learned that Northumbria had risen in revolt and the Danes would have been forced to withdraw soon in any case.

  Ϯϯϯ

  My first priority was to seek an audience with the king to explain why I had disappeared. I had enough enemies: men like Eadda who were jealous of the fact that a Jute from Cent had been appointed as Ealdorman of Berrocscir instead of a Saxon thegn. Even my name, Jørren, although a good Jutish name, sounded more Scandinavian than Saxon. I couldn’t let the slur of cowardice go unanswered any longer than necessary. After that I needed to visit the shire’s capital of Readingum and see what state it was in following the heathens’ withdrawal.

  I arrived at Wintanceaster only to find that the king wasn’t there. He had called a meeting of the witenaġemot at Certesi in Sūþrīgescir to which all ealdormen, king’s thegns and senior clerics had been invited. At first I was annoyed that I seem to have been excluded but, as the king’s steward explained, rather snidely, no one knew where I was.

  It was fifty miles or more to Certesi and the witenaġemot was meeting the day after tomorrow. There was no time to waste. The Danes had left Hamtunscīr and Berrocscir so hopefully my small escort of Cei, Wealhmær, Erik, Bjarne and two boys called Acwel and Lyndon would suffice. The latter pair were both twelve and training to be scouts. Had I known when I first set out where the king was, I would have brought more men with me. The monastery at Certesi was a mere thirty miles from Ludenwic, where the Great Heathen Army was now based. My hope was that the Danes would be busy foraging in Mercia, stocking up with provisions for the coming winter, but no one could be certain of that.

  I sent Erik and the two boys ahead to scout the route and set off at a fast pace. It was now midday and we would have to push our horses if I was to arrive at the monastery in time. I was fairly certain that the witenaġemot would meet immediately after mass and a hurried bite to eat. The road was clear, apart from the odd farm cart and a few other travellers, and we stopped for the night just after dark in a clearing by a small river a few miles short of Certesi. Of course, I wasn’t expecting to camp and we had no tents, or even food, with us.

  Acwel proved to have a useful skill and had tickled three medium sized trout when we’d stopped earlier in the day. It wasn’t much of a meal for the seven of us, but it was better than nothing. It rained in the middle of the night and we awoke wet, cold and miserable. My cloak had kept out most of the water, but not all. Some of the others looked like drowned rats, especially Acwel and Lyndon. There was no time to dry out and just before dawn we were on the move again.

  Thankfully the rain ceased as the sun rose in the east. When we arrived outside the gates of the monastery we found the area covered in tents large and small. They stretched along the west bank of the Temes and the south bank of a small tributary which joined the bigger river just beyond the monastery. The settlement itself lay to the west of the walled monastic enclosure. I could see why Ælfred had chosen it. It was convenient for the nobles of Cent, Sūþrīgescir and Suth-Seaxe, who had played little part in the war so far, whilst being easily defended in case of attack by the Danes. It wasn’t quite so convenient for many of those from Wessex proper, of course.

  We chose a spot away from the rest, on the north bank of another small river called the Bourne, which meant stream. Whilst the others got a fire going and took care of the horses, I sent Cei and Bjarne into the nearby settlement to see if they could buy some tents and provisions. I made myself look as presentable as I could in the circumstances and, taking Wealhmær with me as my banner bearer, I rode up to the monastery gates.

  I arrived at the church during mass and entered to the disapproving looks of those nearest the door. I wasn’t sure whether it was my unkempt appearance or the fact that I was late which upset them, but there was one face there that I recognised and who smiled when he saw me. I went and stood next to Alric, who nodded to Wealhmær before asking me the inevitable question.

  ‘Thank the Lord that you’re alive; we all wondered what had happened to you,’ he whispered.

  ‘I was abducted by Hroðulf and other thugs hired by Cynemær with, I suspect, the connivance of Eadda,’ I whispered back.

  ‘What happened to them?’

  ‘Hanged by the neck until they choked to death. The fools made the mistake of stopping at Silcestre. Otherwise I’m sure that by now I’d be dead at the hands of Cynemær.’

  ‘I’m glad that you’re not, otherwise I’d have had to kill him to avenge you,’ he replied with a grin.

  ‘I’m going to have to kill him anyway, and his other sons, to end the blood feud,’ I said grimly.

  By now one or two others were looking at us; no doubt finding our sotto voce mutterings of more interest than the droning of Archbishop Æthelred’s endless homily.

  ‘You must tell me more later,’ Alric said. ‘By the way, Æscwin is here.’

  That news gave me a jolt. Obviously he didn’t mean my infant son but our eldest brother. I should have realised that he might be present as part of the contingent from Cent. It would be good to see him again, b
ut I had no idea how he’d react to seeing me after I’d absconded with one of his slaves. I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  Ϯϯϯ

  Officially there were ten shires and sub-kingdoms which made up Wessex at that time. However, Ēast Seaxna Rīce had been overrun by the Danes when they conquered the Kingdom of East Anglia and so there were only nine ealdormen present. Apart from the archbishop, there were another four bishops, including Asser of Wintanceaster, all of whom were also abbots of monasteries. There were four other abbots present, all of whose monasteries but one – Certesi – were in Berrocscir. I hadn’t met the abbots of my shire before, but they hastened to speak to me after mass was over.

  All were old men and I must have seemed a young pup in comparison. If they thought that, they were too well-mannered to let it show. We walked over to the refectory together to break our fast before the serious business of the day began and I resigned myself to having to sit with them and make polite conversation. However, Bishop Asser rescued me by saying that the king wished me to sit next to him.

  I was conceited enough to think that I was being honoured. I should have realised that wasn’t the case as I was the youngest, and therefore most junior, ealdorman present. Bishop Asser sat on my other side and Archbishop Æthelred sat at the king’s right hand with an elderly man, who I later learned was Ealdorman Odda of Dyfneintscir, next to Æthelred.

  Curious glances were directed my way and I noticed with a start that my brother Æscwin was staring hard at me, although I couldn’t tell whether he was irate or merely incredulous. I smirked and then my expression changed completely when Ælfred turned to me.