WHITEBLADE

by H A CULLEY

  ~~~

  Oswald had waited until all the men were bunched up on the saddle and the descent down into Glen Iorsa by the Strathclyde vanguard had started. He held up his sword so that it caught the sun and flashed the signal to attack across the saddle to Conmael, who was leading the other half of the ambush party. Almost as one, both groups rose from their hiding positions and charged downhill. The slopes were steep and covered in rocks and boulders. They leaped from rock to rock and slithered down the scree and Oswald was surprised to learn later that only three men had broken their legs during that wild charge. They hit the unprepared men of Strathclyde with such momentum that they drove great gaps into their ranks, dividing them into small groups, before the fighting started in earnest.

  Some fifty men had been killed or badly wounded by the initial charge, which reduced the odds to almost even. However, the enemy started to fight back. There was no formation and the battle deteriorated into a series of hand-to-hand fights. Now the rigorous training regime that Oswald had insisted on during the winter began to display benefits.

  He and five others had surrounded a small group of their foes. Whenever one of the latter tried to thrust sword or spear at Oswald or his men, they countered swiftly with their shields and caught their opponent unbalanced with their return thrust. The group of eight was soon whittled down to four, but one of these was a big man with a two-handed battle axe. He had already brought it down on the head of one of Oswald’s warriors, cleaving through his helmet deep into his skull.

  He batted away Oswald’s sword and brought the axe slicing round in a swing that would have cut deeply into the side of anyone in its way, chain mail armour notwithstanding. Luckily, everyone managed to get out of its way, but it afforded the opportunity for another of the Strathclyde men to score a hit in the leg of the man to Oswald’s left. Oswald feinted towards the belly of the axeman and, when he brought up his axe to knock the sword away, he changed the direction of his lunge and the point entered the big man’s groin. He screamed in agony and the man who had been wounded in the leg finished him off with a chop into his neck.

  As he fell dead, his companions lost heart and surrendered. However, Oswald had given the order for no quarter. They couldn’t hurry back to Loch Ranza if they were encumbered by a load of captives. This was, therefore, a fight to the death. Besides, the elimination of so many of Belin’s fighting men would seriously weaken him and keep Dal Riada safe for years to come.

  He wasn’t proud of his decision and he repented it for years afterwards, but it was the right one strategically. It took them moments to cut the rest of the group down and then Oswald turned to seek his next opponent. One of the others took advantage of the pause to bind up the leg of the man who had been wounded. Fortunately it was only a flesh wound and with rest would soon heal, once it was stitched up.

  Oswald caught sight of a man wearing a gleaming byrnie and a helmet with a faceguard representing a man with a golden beard. That, coupled with the circlet of gold around the helmet, indicated that he was a man of importance and wealth; most probably the man commanding the Strathclyde men on Arran. As Oswald made his way towards him he saw him kill another of his men and he determined, not only to kill him, but to humiliate him first.

  As Oswald strode towards the Strathclyde leader, a warrior with a spear tried to stop him. Oswald blocked the spear point with his shield and then dug the point of his sword into the man’s belly, twisting and pulling out a handful of slimy grey intestines with it. After that, no-one else got in his way.

  The man with the gold-embellished helmet saw him coming and braced himself with his small round shield held in front of him and his sword held ready. Oswald noticed with interest that it was a good six inches longer than his own blade and that the man was about four inches taller. Oswald smiled grimly; he detected an air of overconfidence in his foe.

  He allowed the man to make the first move, shoving his small shield, called a targe, towards Oswald’s face whilst aiming a cut at his unprotected legs. Oswald leapt in the air and the sword sliced the air under him. He had timed his jump perfectly and his leather clad feet came down on the flat of the blade. His surprised opponent was dragged forward; had he thought quickly enough, he should have released his sword to keep his balance and pulled out the seax hanging from his belt.

  As he lurched forward, Oswald held the point of his sword steady and it cut into the side of the man’s neck, opening up a long, deep cut which bled copiously. He could just as easily have moved the point two inches to the left and the man would have been dead and he knew it. Behind the gilded face mask, Oswald could see the fear in his eyes. He knew he was being toyed with.

  Whilst the battle raged around them, the two men circled each other warily. Oswald knew that the man was desperate to finish this before he lost too much blood and became weak, but Oswald was in no hurry. His opponent was the invader and he wanted him to pay.

  The Strathclyde leader tried a feint at Oswald’s eyes and then moved the point of his sword downwards, hoping that Oswald would follow with his shield to protect his abdomen and thighs. He didn’t and as he’d expected, his foe went for the eyes again at the very last moment. This time Oswald moved his shield to counter it and thrust his own sword into the man’s groin. He was now seriously wounded and could hardly see for the pain. The point of his sword drooped and he no longer had the strength to hold up his shield. With a long, powerful sweep of his sword Oswald cut into the man’s neck. He felt the jar up his arm as it cut through the spine and then the head with its magnificent helmet went spinning away to hit the ground several yards away.

  The heart went out of the men of Strathclyde when they saw that their leader had been killed. They tried to slip away down the path they had come, but Oswald’s men moved quickly to pen them in. After more than half of them had been killed, Oswald called a halt to the slaughter and the remainder were disarmed and roped together. Leaving ten men to guard them, he sent another man to collect in the cut-off party. He could ill afford the ten guards, but he couldnn’t bring himself to kill the captives in cold blood. Trying to overcome his lethargy, a reaction as the adrenalin, which had been coursing through his veins up to that moment, drained away, he headed back towards Loch Ranza with the rest. He had lost comparatively few men compared to the enemy; even so, his force had now been reduced to less than one hundred and fifty and some of those had flesh wounds. He only hoped they would be enough when they got back to the settlement.

  ~~~

  Late in the afternoon Eochaid, with a sinking heart, saw another six birlinns enter the loch. His first thought was that Oswald had been fooled and that this was the rest of the Strathclyde men from Brodick. However, he then recognised the emblem on their sails as that of Domnall Brecc and breathed a sigh of relief.

  The enemy obviously didn’t know what to do. Their first instinct was to launch their birlinns and try to escape, but they were outnumbered and trapped in the loch. Four of the new arrivals remained near the entrance to the loch in case the attackers tried to escape, whilst the other two came in and beached near the fortress. Eochaid went out and greeted the king and together they led their men, now numbering over two hundred, towards the enemy. When the other four ships, seeing that the enemy ships had remained on the beach, came in to disgorge another two hundred and twenty warriors, the Strathclyde men quickly decided to surrender.

  Thus, when Oswald eventually arrived with his exhausted men, they found that they needn’t have practically killed themselves getting there. It was just as well, as they were in no condition to fight.

  ‘Describe this leader to me, Oswald,’ Domnall Brecc asked later that evening at the feast which had been hastily organised by Acha to celebrate their victory.

  He frowned when Oswald had done so.

  ‘I’m almost certain that it could be none other than Eònan, one of King Belin’s cousins. He’s been after a kingdom of his own for some time. He was the one who tried to invade Lorne and was defeated at the Pass o
f Brander. I don’t suppose for one moment that Belin will grieve for long. Eònan was ambitious and resented being the son of the younger brother. He could well have tried to topple his cousin in due course, had he failed to secure a kingdom elsewhere. Some think it’s Belin who was the aggressor, but I think it was only Eònan. He had been held in check by the old king, but Belin’s too young and inexperienced. No, I think you have done everyone a favour by killing him.’

  A little later Domnall heard someone call Oswald ‘Whiteblade’.

  ‘What’s this “Whiteblade”?’

  ‘Oh, nothing.’ Oswald blushed and then explained. ‘Twice now the sun has reflected off my sword as I gave the signal to attack, apparently making it seem as if it was flashing with a brilliant white light, like a halo is supposed to around the heads of our Lord and the saints. The men said it was a sign from God that we would prevail. Since the first time, when we captured this settlement, they have called me Whiteblade. They did it again today but they’ll soon forget about it.’

  But they didn’t.

  Chapter Eight – Return to Bebbanburg

  623 AD

  Oswald was delighted when, the following December, Gytha gave birth to a son, who they called Œthelwald. He wasn’t the only happy one; Acha was pleased to become a grandmother and to see that her eldest son now had an heir, though as yet, he hadn’t much to inherit. Oswiu and Offa found it hard to think of themselves, at ten and eight respectively, as uncles, but perhaps the most thrilled was six year old Æbbe, who went round telling everyone proudly that she was now an aunt.

  Domnall had confirmed Oswald as chieftain of the settlement in Loch Ranza, but he had installed one of his own nobles as Lord of Arran in Brodick. However, that suited Oswald for now. Connad seemed to have forgotten about him, or if he hadn’t, he seemed content to let him be. Oswald and his family were living in peace and the settlement was becoming prosperous.

  Most of the warriors who had sailed with him and Eochaid had elected to stay and all but a few had now married. Half of those who had been killed the previous year had been replaced by newly trained youths, including Rònan. The lad was now sixteen and had surprised everyone by marrying one of the prettiest girls in the settlement who was a year older than him. Her first husband had been killed in the battle with the men of Strathclyde and Rònan had vowed to have her as his wife as soon as the period of mourning was over.

  At first she wasn’t interested in a boy younger than herself who, she suspected, was still a virgin, but his persistence and the fact that he was a close friend and companion of Oswald, eventually won her over. They had married in March and he had vowed that she would give birth to a son by the end of the year. His lovemaking was no less persistent than his courting and by May his wife had morning sickness.

  The only one who was discontented was Oswiu. He would soon be eleven, though he looked a year or two older and Acha had decided to ship him off to be educated on Iona this coming summer. His brothers had become novices when they were twelve, but she knew that Oswald had decided to start Oswiu’s warrior training early, in view of his size and the promise he showed when practicing with Rònan. In the two years on Iona, he would learn to read and write and the gaps in his religious education would be filled. The local priest was a good man, but his knowledge of the scriptures was rudimentary. Even Oswald knew more than he did about the life of Christ.

  However, something happened in early May which upset the pastoral idyll. Life had been equally uneventful in Ulster for the past year. The Uí Néill were busy fighting amongst themselves and Fiachnae mac Báetáin was getting bored; more importantly, so were his warriors.

  He had met a shipmaster who claimed that there were more islands to the north of Britain where there were easy pickings. Moreover, the man had sailed up the east coast of Britain to get there. He had even beached his ship for the night near a place called Bebbanburg.

  Oswald had also heard of the islands. They were called the Orcades and, along with Skye and the Outer Hebrides, they had been part of Dal Riada over a century ago. Gradually the Picts had ousted the Dal Riada Gaels and an uneasy truce had existed between the Picts and Dal Riada ever since. When he heard this, Fiachnae became doubtful in case it created problems between Dal Riada and its neighbours; however, Oswald felt that anything that upset the treacherous Connad was to be encouraged.

  It was eventually agreed that Oswald and Eochaid would take the two largest of the four birlinns they now had and would accompany Fiachnae and his six ships to raid Skye, the Orcades and down the east coast of Pictland until they reached Bebbanburg. They would then attempt to take Edwin’s capital before Fiachnae headed for home, whatever the outcome.

  When Gytha heard of Oswald’s plan, she went to Acha and both women tried to dissuade him.

  ‘Oswald, you know that this is a madcap scheme. Fiachnae is likely to get killed and take you and his son with him. None of you knows the waters to the north, or down the east coast and I’m told that there are fierce storms which will sink even the stoutest ship.’

  Oswald laughed. ‘Mother, we are all experienced sailors and Fiachnae has hired the shipmaster who has already done this route as our guide. Nothing will go wrong and at best, I’ll re-take Bebbanburg and kill Edwin.’

  ‘Oswald, you are barely nineteen and think you know it all, just because you’ve won a few battles and managed to sire a son; something most men in the world have done. If you go, you’ll do it without my blessing.’

  Oswald’s eyes narrowed. Acha had foolishly made this a contest of wills between her and her eldest son. She had lost last time and she would lose this time as well.

  ‘Very well. I would have liked your good wishes for the success of this venture, but if that’s the way you feel, there’s nothing more to be said.’

  ‘Oswald, I didn’t mean-’

  ‘Don’t demean yourself by taking back your threat, mother. What’s been said cannot be unsaid.’

  As he left, he turned in the doorway.

  ‘Oswiu has asked to come with me and, as this will be the last chance of a voyage for him before he leaves for Iona, I have said yes.’

  Without giving his mother a chance to object, he went out of the door and closed it gently behind him.

  Oswald took his birlinn and that of Eochaid, leaving the other two and their crews to defend the settlement, now called Duilleag Bán na Cille – literally, the settlement of Whiteblade. Fiachnae had brought six craft with him, so in total they had over five hundred men. Naturally, Oswiu was ecstatic to be taken along and sat in the bows watching the sea ahead of them and yelling excitedly when he spotted a pod of basking sharks.

  Normally Oswald would have hunted them, as they produced oil for lights and torches and their flesh was edible if other meat was in short supply. This time, however, he ignored them and continued to follow the rest of the fleet around the Mull of Kintyre and up the coast. That night they beached the fleet on Iona. Oswald and Oswiu went in search of their brothers and found, instead of the mischievous boys they used to be, two serious young monks and an equally serious novice. Oswald enjoyed seeing his brothers again, but he was glad that Oswiu, who he now realised was his favourite brother, wanted to be a warrior like him and not a priest. He hoped that his two years on Iona wouldn’t change him.

  He asked to see Aidan and was disappointed when he was told that he wasn’t there anymore. He was now Brother Finnian’s acolyte and he was away with him somewhere in the land of the Picts, trying to convert them to Christianity. Oswald knew that the Picts were a savage race and prayed in the chapel that evening for Aidan’s safety.

  The next day they sailed on north past Coll, Tiree and several small islands before reaching Skye. They beached the birlinns on a deserted stretch of silver sand and camped for the night. Skye proved to be something of a disappointment. The interior looked mountainous, similar to Arran, so Oswald suspected that the settlements all lay on the coast. In the main, these were small fishing hamlets, but a few had sheep
and the odd cow grazing on pastureland close by. With the crews of eight birlinns to feed, they took the livestock and what grain they could find, but left the people alive and the settlements unburned.

  The only sizeable place was on the east coast of the island, a place called Port Rìgh – the port of the king. The man who called himself King of Skye lived in a hall surrounded by a palisade on a flat topped hill at the southern end of the bay, where there was anchorage for a number of fishing craft, three birlinns and two trading ships. The palisade didn’t provide much of an obstacle to several hundred warriors and the King of Skye died with his men.

  The Picts were a poor people; even the king’s bodyguard had no body armour and only one or two had helmets, probably captured in battle to judge by the dents in them.

  The king’s hall didn’t yield much in the way of treasure, but there were two small chests of silver and some simple pieces of jewellery which had belonged to his two wives. Fiachnae took the younger women and children they captured as slaves and sent them to the markets in Ireland in the three captured birlinns. Unfortunately, even with skeleton crews, this took away a hundred men.

  The rest pushed on north to the Orcades. They discovered a small archipelago of islands with settlements similar to Skye. The main town had even less to offer in the way of plunder than Port Rìgh and after stocking up on food, they turned south along the east coast of the mainland.

  They were now in what was called the German Ocean and the settlements they came across got steadily more prosperous the further south they sailed. By now it was mid-summer and Fiachnae began to talk about turning around and heading back.