by Martin Lake
‘We should go there,’ Ulf said. ‘My king’s father married a princess of the Franks. We will be welcomed there. And we might find news of the men I journeyed from England with.’
Rebekah frowned. She trusted no northerner, whether Viking or Frank. Except for one. She decided to trust Ulf’s judgement.
‘Let us go then,’ she said. ‘The sooner we reach Paris, the sooner we’ll be safe from the Northmen.’
They did not reach the city speedily. The current was sluggish which meant that rowing was relatively easy. But the river went east, then turned south in a huge bend, then north, then south west for many miles before finally turning east once again. It took two days before they finally saw the city in front of them.
Paris was, as Rebekah had said, built on an island in the middle of the river. It was about half the size of the old Roman city of Lunden but where Lunden had lost many of its houses, Paris was crammed with buildings.
It had also spread beyond the island, with a settlement to the north which was as large as that of the island. To the south there were fewer houses but many of them were large halls, presumably the homes of powerful men. Stretching south of the river was a large expanse of farms with well-tended fields containing crops and livestock.
‘It’s huge,’ Ulf said in amazement.
‘Not compared to Cairo,’ Rebekah said. ‘And Cairo is dwarfed by Constantinople.’
She kissed him on the cheek and chuckled. ‘You poor savage, Ulf. The world is so full of marvels for you.’
He blushed but did not reply.
Paris was indeed a wonder for Ulf. He had never seen so many houses, never seen so many people, never heard such ear-wrenching clamour. ‘We must find the King,’ he said, desperate to escape the crowded thoroughfares.
There were two churches in the city, the larger being the Cathedral Saint-Etienne, and Ulf decided to see if any of the priests spoke English and could help him find the king. He was fortunate to be directed to a young man, Wighelm, who hailed from Sussex. He said that King was at the city of Chartres, far to the west and would not return to the city for many months. But he agreed to take them to Count Eudes, lord of the city and the lands surrounding it.
Eudes was in his mid-twenties, not that much older than Ulf, but he had an air of power and command. Even in a crowd he would have been noticeable. This was not because of any great size or appearance of strength, in fact he was slight of build. It was because he was able to catch the attention of anyone close by and draw it to him. Women were captivated by him and men found themselves experiencing a sudden, intense desire to be his friend.
Wighelm introduced Ulf and Rebekah to Eudes who received them graciously, offered them food and wine but did not attempt to hide his curiosity concerning them.
He spent a moment studying Rebekah’s face and smiled. ‘You are an Arab,’ he said. ‘From al-Andalus perhaps?’
Rebekah shook her head. ‘I am no Arab. I hate them for it was they who first enslaved me. I am from the land of Axum far to the south of Egypt.’
‘I have never heard of that land,’ Eudes said. ‘But if it produces such beautiful maidens as you, then it must be a goodly place.’
Wighelm blushed as he translated the words. Rebekah bowed politely.
‘And is this your husband?’ Eudes asked. ‘Do your people take husbands?’
‘I am a Christian,’ she said, as much as anyone dwelling in these lands. But no, he is not my husband, though he is my protector and rescued me from the Northmen.’
Eudes turned to Ulf, his eyes wide in admiration.
‘You must be a brave man to have dealt in such a manner with the Northmen.’
‘I am one of King Alfred’s Household-thegns,’ Ulf said. It was a lie but he thought it might persuade Eudes to help them. ‘I don’t know if it means I’m brave but it is a great honour.’
Eudes looked impressed. ‘It is indeed. You must be a great warrior.’
Ulf shrugged. ‘You would have to seek that knowledge from others.’
Eudes smiled. ‘A modest Englishman, now that is a surprise. Tell me, Ulf, why are you in the land of the Franks?’
Ulf told him about Alfred’s mission to Rome, how he was captured, and briefly about his time of captivity.
‘I know of Hæstenn, of course,’ Eudes said. ‘A vicious, clever man, far-seeing and political. To my mind, that makes him the most dangerous of our foes. But I have not heard of this Rolfo.’
‘Hrólfr,’ Ulf said. ‘I think he may well come to be as dangerous as Hæstenn. He is strong and determined, a mighty warrior who commands the respect of his men.’ He paused a moment. ‘And he has a certain honesty about him, almost a nobility.’
‘Then he will prove a dangerous foe, indeed,’ Eudes said. ‘It is terrible enough that we are attacked by wild wolves. It is of great concern if any of them have more exalted qualities than the ability to ravage and slay.’
‘I did not say exalted, my lord. But he displays great power and authority.’
He fell silent, realising that he had almost described Eudes himself.
The Count pondered Ulf’s words for a moment and then smiled.
‘So what would you ask of me, my friends? If you desire it, Ulf, I shall be happy to have you in my service.’
‘That is a great honour,’ Ulf said, ‘but my lord is the King of Wessex. And my duty is clear, to seek out the party I was guarding on the way to Rome. I need to go south and I know that Rebekah will want to go that way as well.’
‘But it is too late for that, Ulf,’ Eudes said. ‘Alfred’s envoys have reached Rome, completed their mission and returned to Wessex. I entertained them here four weeks ago before they returned to Wessex.’
Ulf gave a silent curse. So he had failed in this task also. Alfred and Edgwulf had charged him with helping protect the men carrying the treasure to Rome and they had got there and back without him. He felt utter contempt for himself.
‘Do not berate yourself for any failure,’ Eudes said.
Ulf shot a glance at him, astonished that he could understand what he was feeling.
‘I would feel the same,’ Eudes continued, ‘I am certain of it. But the Northmen are a force almost beyond reckoning. Do not be ashamed that they captured you. We cannot understand them, we cannot defeat them, we cannot control them.’
‘Alfred can,’ Ulf said. ‘He defeated them and made them accept his peace terms.’
‘Indeed he did,’ Eudes said. ‘And because of that many Danes crossed the seas and attacked us. No matter if they suffer a set-back, they appear somewhere else to create havoc.’
‘Then that makes it even more important that I return to Wessex,’ Ulf said. ‘We are ever on the guard against the heathens. We defeat them but we can only stay safe if we remain watchful.’
‘We fight the same enemies,’ Eudes said. ‘Though we are separated by the ocean we fight the same war. Be sure to tell King Alfred this.
‘I shall help you return,’ he continued. ‘I shall send you by ship to the mouth of the Seine and from there you can cross to your land.’ He paused. ‘And I shall send this good priest with you.’
‘The bishop —’ Wighelm began, in alarm.
‘Will do exactly as I request,’ Eudes said. ‘Joscelin and I are old friends.’
And so, three days later, Ulf, Rebekah and Wighelm, boarded a ship and began the long journey down the River Seine to the coast.
RETURN TO WESSEX
July 884
Ulf gazed in wonder as the Frankish ship approached the great fort of Portchester. It was one of the first places Alfred had chosen to be a burgh and Ulf could see why.
It was said to have been built by the Romans although Ulf could not believe that ordinary men had raised such a vast edifice. It was built on a tongue of land, with two of its four sides protected by the sea, although it had no need of such protection. For its walls were huge, twenty feet high and made of hard flint and limestone. They stretched eight hundred feet in each
direction, enclosing a vast area of eight or nine acres. No workmen toiled to renovate or improve the walls because they needed no such work. They were impregnable.
Ulf jumped on to the quay, and helped Rebekah down after him. Although they were both well used to rivers the sea crossing had been rough and their legs felt unsteady. Wighelm clambered down more slowly, groaning as he came.
‘Is this where your king lives?’ Rebekah asked, gazing up at the walls.
Ulf shook his head. ‘He doesn’t live in any one place. He moves about Wessex as the need arises.’
He gave her a swift glance. ‘You don’t seem very impressed by this place.’
‘I have seen greater fortresses. And I lived for many years in the shadow of the great monuments of the old Kings of Egypt.’
‘And are they grander than this?’
She laughed. ‘They dwarf it. They are like mountains. If a hundred men stood on one another’s shoulders the topmost man would still not reach the top.’
Ulf scoffed in disbelief.
‘I will show you one day,’ she said. ‘If you come there with me.’
‘I doubt I’ll do that,’ he said. ‘I’m just glad to be home.’
‘Then you are fortunate.’ Ulf saw tears film her eyes but could think of no words to comfort her.
He took a deep breath. It was good to be home. Very good. In all the long months of captivity he thought he would never return.
The sun was shining but a chill wind blew off the sea and clouds massed to the west threatening rain. Rebekah shivered and pulled her cloak about her.
Sea-gulls screamed as they wheeled. Their noise was echoed by a clamour from within the fortress. Ulf wondered how many people dwelt in such a large place; hundreds judging from the sound they made.
‘Come, let’s see what we can find out,’ he said, taking Rebekah by the hand.
‘Then let us find a church,’ said Wighelm. ‘My brethren will be most likely to have news of the king.’
They were searched by the guards at the gate and Ulf had to relinquish the weapons which Eudes had given him. Rain began to fall as they entered the fortress.
The walls were ten feet thick or more, and the area they enclosed was vast. Most of it was open land, planted with crops to provide food for the men guarding the walls. There was also a meadow with a small flock of sheep and a compound filled with pigs. A couple of good sized ponds were situated to one side with hens, geese and ducks pecking the ground nearby. The fortress would withstand any siege.
As if to emphasise this, a large number of tents were piled up in one corner of the fort. Alfred had decreed that, in the event of a Danish incursion, villagers were to leave their homes and make their way to the nearest burgh. The tents were to house them if they were forced to stay any length of time. Ulf smiled with satisfaction. The King, as was typical of him, had left nothing to chance.
The rainclouds burst as they found a church nestling beneath the walls to the left of the gate. They were given a warm welcome by the priests although a few looked alarmed at the sight of Rebekah. The abbot eventually decided that she must be kin to the Queen of Sheba and the misgivings eased, though only a little. The travellers were given lodgings for the night together with news of all that had happened in the year and a half that Ulf had been gone.
The abbot was very well informed. He told them that Alfred had spent much time in Lundenburh, strengthening the walls, building barracks for troops and reconstructing a church. But most effort had gone into improving the water-front. It was a wise decision. Merchants and traders realised that the city and its walls afforded them greater safety than Lundenwic and decamped immediately. Almost overnight, the old settlement lost most of its trade. The birth of Lundenburh caused the death of Lundenwic, although no blood was spilt in this cataclysm.
The abbot said that Alfred intended to celebrate the feast of the Assumption in Winchester. This was good news as they would be able to reach the city in a day. The next morning they borrowed some horses from the commander of the fortress and set off.
Rebekah had ridden donkeys before but she took a while to get used to the faster pace of her horse. Wighelm had never ridden at all and he clung onto the reins in terror, mumbling prayers for deliverance.
Fortunately, the weather had changed for the better. The sky was a brilliant blue with only a few shreds of cloud to the north. The sun grew hot as they rode and he felt his skin begin to burn.
‘I should have bought you a hat to protect you from the sun,’ he said to Rebekah.
She raised her eyebrows. ‘There is no need. Where I come from the sun burns a hundred times hotter than this, every day of the year. There are no clouds visible and as a child I saw rain only twice.’
He looked at her with astonishment. ‘Is that why you’re so black? Have you been burnt by the sun, like a loaf left too long in the fire?’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’m not sure. If that is the case then the sun must reach into a mother’s belly for our babies are born the same colour.’
He shook his head in confusion.
‘The world is made up of many different peoples,’ Rebekah continued. ‘And until I was captured by the Vikings I had never seen such pale people.’ She could not hide a look of distaste. ‘Those with red hair were the easiest to look upon for the colour reminded me of my homeland.’
‘How?’
‘My land is made up of red rock and yellow desert sands. Only beside the river are there trees and green fields. I shall take you to my land one day perhaps.’
‘Are there Danes there?’ he asked. ‘I’ve had my fill of Danes.’
‘No. We are a civilised people who live in peace. No Danes, no savages.’
‘You will find England the same.’
They arrived at Winchester towards the end of the day. They left their horses at the stables and approached the King’s Great Hall.
Rebekah was astonished at the sight of this. ‘It is so mean,’ she said. ‘My master’s house in Cairo was finer. This cannot be the home of a king; you must be playing a trick on me.’
Ulf gave her a bewildered look. This was one of Alfred’s finest halls, well made of good oak and with a clean thatch roof to shelter it from all weathers. ‘Now I think you try to trick me,’ he said, with a smile. Surely no hall could be grander than Alfred’s?
He was recognised by one of the guards and given entry. His heart began to pound at the thought of seeing the king and his lords again.
Because it was summer there was no fire in the hall. It was the time of the evening meal and Alfred was sitting at table with his family. His mistress Merewyn sat on his left with Aethelflaed, Edward and Osgar beside her. To Alfred’s right were Wulfred, the new Ealdorman of Hampshire, Ethelnoth, Edgwulf, Wulfric and the thegn Bertulf of Hampshire.
Alfred was the first to spot Ulf. He rose in silence, staring at him as if at a ghost. The others followed his gaze and began to call and cheer. Ulf blushed red and glanced at Rebekah, embarrassment and pride wrestling each other in his heart.
Alfred, Ethelnoth, Edgwulf and Wulfric left their places and hurried towards him.
‘You’re alive,’ Alfred said, grasping his hands. ‘This is great, good news.’ He stared long at Ulf’s face. ‘You are unharmed?’
‘I was harmed, my lord, but not enough to prevent me coming home to claim any wages due to me.’
The lords’ laughter filled his ears, their forceful blows rained down upon his back.
Then Alfred glanced to Ulf’s left and saw Rebekah. He frowned, blinked repeatedly, and gave a questioning look at Ulf.
‘This is my friend, Rebekah,’ Ulf said. ‘She was held captive with me and without her I would not be alive today.’
‘And without him I would be dead,’ Rebekah said. ‘Or worse, cut into a thousand pieces by the Northmen.’
‘Then it is good to see you alive and well, Rebekah,’ Alfred said. He studied her face. He was astonished and intrigued and quite unable to conceal it.
‘You have never seen a black woman before?’ she asked. Her voice was proud and challenging and Ulf quailed at the sound. Nobody, not even his closest friends, dared to speak to the King in such a tone.
‘Never, have I seen a person with your looks,’ Alfred said, shaking his head in confusion. ‘Though I have heard tale that people such as you dwell in Africa. That they inhabit mighty kingdoms of fabulous wealth and learning.’
She gave a huge smile. ‘You are as gracious and as wise as Ulf tells me, Alfred King.’
Alfred smiled in return and gave a little bow of his head. ‘And you are more gracious still, Rebekah.’ He turned and pointed to the high table. ‘Come, both of you, join us at our meal and tell us of your adventures.’
‘Before I eat, my lord…’ Ulf said.
‘Your sister, of course.’
He sent a servant in search of her.
Everyone stared at Ulf as he walked beside the king to the high table. Many voices called out, his friends and companions. But they looked troubled at the sight of him. He was gaunt as a dying calf; all strength and life seemed to have ebbed from him. He grinned at Holdwine and Grimbold and they raised their fists in exultation.
‘You look like you need some ale,’ Holdwine yelled. ‘And some good English meat.’
‘He shall have both,’ Alfred said. ‘As much as he can swallow.’
The warm looks given to Ulf were swiftly replaced by questioning ones as Rebekah passed by. Some were openly curious, a few puzzled. But several men looked suspiciously upon her, their faces scowling. Ulf did not notice this but Rebekah did. And so did Edgwulf. He turned continually from Rebekah to warriors, his face troubled.
Ealdorman Wulfred gave his seat to Ulf, insisting that he sit next to the King. Ulf had only just taken the chair when Inga hurtled into the hall. She stopped a few yards from him, stared at him as if she had never seen him before.
Then she paced towards him, slowly, cautiously, as if she were a hunter and he a deer she feared might scare and flee.
Ulf got to his feet, opened his arms, and embraced her fiercely.