WHITEBLADE

by H A CULLEY

  Rothesay lay on the south coast of a bay of the same name, at the end of a valley surrounded by two dominant hills. Oswald’s plan was to send a ship’s crew to secure each of the two hills above the settlement and then advance down the valley, with one crew on each bank of the river that ran from a small loch inland down to the sea. That way the inhabitants would be trapped in the settlement.

  He was aware that there were likely to be fishing boats, and perhaps other craft, which people could use to escape to sea, and Rothesay Bay was quite extensive. Lorcan would just have to do his best to intercept them. If a few got away, it wasn’t the end of the world.

  It rained that night, which made for an unpleasant trudge into position above Rothesay. The rain stopped just before the eastern sky behind the dark clouds grew lighter. Oswald and thirty men moved down one side of the river whilst Oswiu led the same number down the opposite bank. Both stopped at the same moment when they saw the palisade that protected the settlement from the landward side in front of them. They retreated out of sight of the settlement and each sent a runner to tell Eochaid and Gwrtheyrn, the other shipmaster, to stop where they were for now.

  Oswald crept forward to examine the palisade and the gates, which were to one side of the river that ran under the palisade through a grid made of stout cross timbers lashed together. He made his way parallel to the palisade until he reached the sea. The palisade ended in a stone wall four feet across and eight feet high that ran out into the sea, well beyond the depth where it would be possible to wade around it, even at the lowest tide. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to protect the settlement from a landward assault.

  The day was getting brighter as the sun rose behind the clouds and he still had no idea how he was going to capture the settlement without a significant loss of life. Then he had an idea.

  The gates had been kept closed until farmers started arriving with their produce to sell in the settlement. There was no point in occupying the low hills above the settlement, as the only exit points for the inhabitants to flee were out of the gates or by boat, so he called in his men from the hills above Rothesay and they joined the others in the undergrowth on each side of the river. There were two tracks that led to the gates, one alongside the river and the other from the west. Oswald decided to lay his ambush on the latter, as his men had blocked the other route. A few carts laden with vegetables passed his hiding place, but it wasn’t a cart he was looking for.

  Meat had been scarce in the winter, but now that spring had arrived with its crop of new-born lambs, piglets and calves, drovers had started to bring their spare livestock into the local market. When he saw a man and three young boys herding about thirty sheep down the track, Oswald nudged Oswiu and signalled across the track to Rònan. It didn’t take ten men to subdue the four, but he didn’t want there to be any chance of one escaping. Three warriors surrounded the man whilst two more grabbed each boy. Another half a dozen prevented the sheep from panicking and escaping in the confusion.

  Suddenly, one of the boys twisted out of the grip of the two men who each held a shoulder and he raced away dressed in just trousers, leaving his rough woollen tunic behind. Except, now that the child’s torso was uncovered, Oswald could see that it wasn’t a boy at all, but a young girl of perhaps twelve or thirteen.

  One of the men went to put an arrow in her back, but Oswald knocked his bow aside and went racing after the girl. He didn’t have to go very far, as she tripped and fell. She had been looking fearfully over her shoulder instead of looking where she was going and stumbled into a pothole in the track. Oswald pulled her up by the hair and marched her back to join the rest.

  ‘Put this on, girl and don’t be so stupid,’ he told her, thrusting her tunic at her. ‘We’re not going to harm you, just borrow your sheep for a while.’

  He turned to the man, presumably her father.

  ‘Why do you dress your daughter as a boy?’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s easier to herd sheep in boy’s clothing and it’s safer if strangers think she’s a boy, now she’s thirteen.’

  Oswald laughed. ‘Well, she had me fooled. Now you and your children are to stay near here with three of my men for a few hours. If you behave, then you’ll come to no harm. Try to run and they’ll kill, not just the one who runs, but all of you. Do they speak Gaelic or do you need to translate?’

  The man looked puzzled. ‘We all speak Gaelic. What did you think we spoke?’

  ‘Brythonic, as you’re from Strathclyde.’

  ‘Not on Bute. We may be ruled by Belin, but we were Scotii from Ulster, originally.’

  ‘So you wouldn’t object if you were part of Dal Riada?’

  ‘Makes little difference to me who rules us; they’ll bleed us dry with taxes whoever they are, but yes, we’d rather be ruled by our own kind.’

  ‘I’m Oswald, Thegn of Arran. Domnall Brecc wants to incorporate Bute into Dal Riada.’

  ‘That’s why you and your warriors are here? I see. Well, that’s fine, but the Lord of Bute is one of King Belin’s nobles and his warriors are from Strathclyde, too. They won’t be so happy to see you,’ and then added belatedly, ‘Lord.’

  ‘No, I had rather assumed that. How many warriors does he have?’

  ‘About fifty in all, though some are scarcely more than boys.’

  ‘Not experienced fighters, then?’

  ‘No, Bute has been peaceful for awhile, so most of them are inexperienced.’

  ‘Right. Oswiu here will go with you after he’s made himself look more like a farmer. He’ll take a seax, though; that shouldn’t be too obvious. What I want you to do is to keep the sheep in the gateway for long enough so that the guards can’t close it quickly. That’ll give us a chance to rush the gates and capture them. Am I correct in assuming that the rest of the enemy will be in the fortress near the beach?’

  The man nodded. ‘Look, Lord Oswald, if there’s going to be fighting, I’d rather my children stayed here and I took another man or two with me to help control the sheep.’

  Oswald nodded and told two more of his men to take off their helmets and padded jerkins.

  It was only then that Oswald noticed that his brother couldn’t take his eyes off the girl. He hadn’t looked at her before, but he could see that, under the dirt, she had an attractive face. Her hair was filthy, too, but washed and allowed to grow a bit longer, she might be reasonably presentable. He was well aware that the girl he slept with wasn’t his wife, so he couldn’t object if his brother wanted a lover too. However, this girl was the farmer’s daughter, not his slave, and he might not be too happy at turning his barely pubescent child over to Oswiu.

  Frowning at his brother and shaking his head disapprovingly made the young man blush and Oswiu set off with the sheep and the others without a backward glance.

  There were only two men on guard at the gate and to save themselves effort, they only opened one gate of the two, to let the sheep in. Oswiu didn’t bother to use the sheep to block the gateway; he and the other two warriors killed the sentries and threw open the other gate. They then drove the sheep off to one side outside the palisade so they didn’t get in the way.

  Before anyone inside the settlement realised it, Oswald and seventy of his warriors were running through the streets making for the fortress. The rest stayed with Oswiu to guard the gates.

  ‘I don’t suppose there is any chance of a market today, so I might just as well take my sheep back home for now,’ the farmer said to Oswiu as the last of Oswald’s men disappeared from sight.

  The young man grinned. ‘No, don’t do that. We’ll buy quite a few of them for a feast tonight to celebrate the liberation of Bute.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Then he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Why not?’ Oswiu asked, surprised.

  ‘Well, Lord Oswald is hardly likely to give me a fair price, is he?’

  ‘Yes, he has every reason to. In any case, he’s an honourable man and a fair one. If we were
raiding, we’d kill you, take your sheep and also your children as slaves. But we’re not. Oswald is to be your thegn and will deal with you justly.’

  ‘Oh, very well. We’ll stay, then. I’ll need to get the beasts corralled, though.’ He turned to his children. ‘You three start cutting saplings to make a few hurdles so we can pen them against the outside of the palisade.’

  Leaving six men guarding the gates, Oswiu and the rest helped make the hurdles and soon had the sheep confined. By then the farmer had noticed the calves’ eyes that his daughter kept making at Oswiu, before casting them down demurely to the ground. It was obvious that her interest in him was reciprocated.

  ‘Fianna,’ he yelled at her angrily. ‘Go and sit over there with your brothers, away from these men.’

  Turning to Oswiu, he upbraided him quietly.

  ‘You may be able to kill me, God knows I’m no warrior, but my daughter is not a whore for you to use for your pleasure. I’ve eyes in my head and I’ve seen you flirting with her, so don’t deny it!’

  To his surprise, Oswiu smiled at him instead of getting irate.

  ‘I confess that she interests me and I think I interest her. I’m sixteen, not much older than Fianna and like her. I’m a virgin and, even if I wasn’t, I’m not the sort of person who would take a girl to bed, deflower her and abandon her, and I resent the implication that I am. I don’t know your daughter, but I’d like to see if our attraction for one another is more than a passing interest. If it is, I can’t promise her marriage – my mother would have a fit – but I can offer her a home and treat her as if she was my wife. My brother is not married to the girl he shares his hall with, either, but Keeva is loved by him and well cared for.’

  The farmer looked doubtful and said nothing for a while.

  ‘You say you want to see if yours is just a fleeting physical attraction or whether there can be more to it. How do you propose to find out? You don’t expect me to leave her here with you?’

  Oswiu shook his head. ‘No, of course not. Tell me where you live and as soon as my brother can spare me, I’ll come and pay you a visit. Is that acceptable?’

  The farmer nodded. ‘I’m Bedwyr and my farm is three miles along this track on the left. The house is on top of a small hill. You can’t miss it.’

  As soon as Bedwyr had left Oswiu’s side, Fianna came running up to him.

  ‘What did he say? Were you talking about me?’

  ‘Why would he be interested in you, girl? God knows, your brothers look better than you do, dressed like that.’

  ‘Stop teasing me; you know they’re as ugly as sin because they look like you. You always told me I have my mother’s good looks.’

  ‘Well, he says he might come and visit us in a few days. Perhaps he would like you better if you put on a kirtle and tried to make your hair look less like a bird’s nest.’

  ‘So he is interested! How old is he? I know he’s called Oswiu and he’s the Thegn of Arran’s brother.’

  ‘Sixteen, so he says, though he looks a little older. He doesn’t know if he likes you or not, child, so don’t start imagining you’re in love or anything silly like that. He’ll only break your heart.’

  He knew as he said it that he was wasting his breath.

  ~~~

  As he ran towards the fortress near the sea, Oswald felt elated. He hadn’t expected to gain the settlement so easily and without a drop of blood spilt, apart from the sentries at the gate. Now he was praying that he could surprise the garrison in the fortress. It was a vain hope.

  The gates to the compound around the hall were shut and archers in the watchtower sent a few arrows towards the attackers before they managed to seek shelter behind nearby houses. Oswald noted that the palisade around the hall was much lower than that which defended the settlement on the landward side. It was no more than five feet high and presumably designed to give the hall privacy rather than be a serious defensive wall. Now some defenders had found something to stand on so that they could see over the wall, but what bothered Oswald more was the sight of several men, including one dressed in a long blue tunic and a red cloak embroidered in gold – presumably the hitherto Lord of Bute – making their way down the beach towards a currach. Two women and three children followed the group, struggling to keep up. If, as he assumed from the fine clothing of one of the women, she was the Lord’s wife, her husband was more intent on saving his own skin than he was on protecting his family. Oswald’s lips curled in distain. Such a man had no honour and deserved to die.

  He called across to his best archer and pointed at the fleeing Lord of Bute. The man looked sceptical, but he nocked an arrow to his bowstring. He took careful aim and allowed for the breeze blowing from the south. He and Oswald watched as the arrow sped on its way, but it missed its target, lodging in the back of the man trudging through the sand next to him. The Lord looked back in alarm and increased his pace.

  ‘I’m sorry, Lord Oswald, he’s out of range now.’

  Oswald nodded and thanked the archer, resigned now that the man would escape. Then, as the small group clambered into the currach, the two women lifting the children in before being pulled aboard themselves, the Seraphim sailed into view around the headland. The men started rowing frantically, leaving stranded the two who had pushed the currach off the beach. It did them no good, though. It took the Seraphim no more than ten minutes to reach the currach. The Strathclyde warriors obviously had more pride than their Lord, as they sent a few arrows towards the birlinn before a much greater answering volley ended their resistance.

  Less than half an hour later, the birlinn and the currach slid their prows onto the beach and Lorcan strode towards Oswald. There had been no more showers of arrows from the hall’s palisade after the brief encounter at sea. Oswald greeted him and congratulated him for arriving at the opportune moment. Just then, another birlinn hove into view, towing the rest of the fleet. Apologising to Oswald, Lorcan sent his birlinn back into the bay so that the crew could sail the unmanned birlinns onto the beach.

  ‘I’m sorry, Oswald,’ Lorcan said when he returned, ‘I fear that the Lord of Bute was killed, along with five of his men; two more were wounded, but they’ll live.’ He looked at the ground for a moment. ‘The lady was killed, too.’

  ‘I see. It can’t be helped. I’d have only sent them to Domnall as hostages.’

  ‘The other girl is a slave, who looks after the three children: two boys who look to be about five and three and a girl of four. What do you want done with them?’

  Oswald thought for a moment and then called his brother over.

  ‘Oswiu, once we have secured the hall, I want you to take the previous Lord’s children and their nursemaid out to that farm you’re so keen to visit. Ask the farmer and his wife if they’ll look after the children until I decide what to do with them. Oh! And just make sure you’re back by nightfall. I don’t want to have to send men looking for you.’

  Oswiu gave him a broad grin. ‘Nightfall today or tomorrow?’

  Oswald sighed. ‘Tomorrow, if her father hasn’t cut off your balls by then.’

  ‘Thank you. I suspect that either I’ll be back long before then, or I won’t be alone.’

  ~~~

  ‘Your Lord is dead and you’re surrounded. Come out unarmed and your lives will be spared.’

  Oswald now had over a hundred and twenty men with Lorcan’s crew, so they outnumbered the Strathclyde men three to one.

  ‘Get stuffed, you Irish bastard,’ someone inside the palisade called out defiantly.

  ‘I’m a Northumbrian Angle and my mother would cut off your manhood for implying that she wasn’t married to my father. Now if you’re quite finished trading insults, are you going to do the sensible thing and surrender, or do you want us to jump over this poor excuse for a palisade and slaughter you all?’

  There was a fair amount of heated discussion before the voice called out again.

  ‘What’ll happen to us if we surrender?’

  ‘You�
�ll be allowed to live and be sent as slaves to Arran to work on the land.’

  ‘We have no master now. If we surrender, we’ll become your men and serve you loyally. We’d rather die than become slaves.’

  ‘Are you Christians?’

  ‘Some of us are. Why?’

  ‘If you all agree to become Christians and swear on the Bible to serve me, I’ll re-settle you on Arran as my warriors.’

  There was another pause for discussion before the gates swung open and a large man in a byrnie and a helmet with a nose guard appeared and threw his sword, seax and shield onto the ground in front of him.

  ‘We accept, Whiteblade. We’ll serve you on Arran.’

  Chapter Thirteen – The Death of Kings

  633 to 634 AD

  In the five years that had passed since he became Thegn of Bute as well as Arran, Oswald had been kept busy ruling his two islands, settling disputes and administering justice. He’d made Oswiu his deputy on Bute and he and Fianna now had a girl of three and a boy of one. Domnall Brecc had used the three children of the Lord of Bute as negotiating tools for the treaty which he’d finally signed with the embattled King Belin of Strathclyde. Domnall had retained Bute and the Cowal Peninsula and in exchange, the children, who turned out to be Belin’s cousins, were returned. Domnall also promised him help if there were any incursions into his territory by his neighbours.

  Belin had used his new alliance to force Rheged to make peace with him. That was something of a relief to Oswald, as the prospect of war with Rheged had dismayed him. When his father ruled Northumbria, Rheged had been a client kingdom and the last thing Oswald wanted was to make himself unpopular with a potential ally.