by H A CULLEY
The road south went along the coast as far as Beadnell Bay and then headed inland but I knew that Otta would have left a guard there with his ships, and so we headed south west over the hills for a few miles before turning onto the road that ran from Berwic to Alnwic. Unsurprisingly we met no-one, other than a charcoal burner with a wagon full of logs. No one in their right minds would journey into an area now controlled by foreign mercenaries, but charcoal burners were a strange breed.
We approached Alnwic cautiously but it was deserted. The place had been looted, but Otta had refrained from burning it. It was a sensible decision; if he succeeded in becoming king he would want the land to return to normal as soon as possible.
The hall was a mess. Evidently Otta’s men had searched everywhere for Eochaid’s hoard of gold and silver but I knew their search had been fruitless. It was lodged with my father at Bebbanburg for safekeeping.
Then I saw wagon tracks leading away from the hall. They were barely discernible after Otta’s horsemen had milled about, but I spotted them because I knew what I was looking for. They led, not into the hills as I had supposed, but south east towards the coast.
Half an hour later we arrived at the mouth of the River Aln. The fishermen and their families who normally lived there had fled but we did discover an abandoned wagon. I came to the reasonable conclusion that Eochaid and Hilda had left in one of the fishing boats. If so, why hadn’t they made for Bebbanburg? It was Seward who solved that mystery.
‘If you recall, lord, the wind up until the last few days was from the north. It would have been difficult to sail up the coast and, of course, Ealdorman Eochaid wouldn’t know whether Bebbanburg had been captured or not. The logical thing to do was to sail south, before the wind, to Jarrow at the mouth of the River Tyne.’
I breathed a sigh of relief; Hilda and her father were probably safe – for now. My desire was to go to Jarrow and make sure, but my duty was to help my father gather an army to defeat Otta. I therefore set off once more – this time into the Cheviots to find the men of Alnwic and call out the fyrd.
I was reasonably certain that Otta’s men were long gone so I sent most of my men to the other vills in the shire of Alnwic to tell their freemen to muster at Bebbanburg.
I found the reeve and the inhabitants of Alnwic at the old hill fort near the source of the River Aln.
‘Should we return, lord? Is it safe?’ he asked after I’d told him what I knew.
‘Our scouts say that they are headed for Durham. If he can take the fortress there he will be in a strong position, especially with Eadbehrt away in the north dealing with the Picts. Durham’s a long way from here so it would be alright for you to return home except for the fact that Otta’s fleet is at Beadnell Bay.’
‘He can’t have left too many men to guard it, can he? He’ll need as many as possible with him.’
The reeve had a good point. If he had, say, five hundred men with him he would have needed perhaps twenty knarrs to transport them, their horses and baggage train. He’d have been a fool to take to sea without a few warships to protect him so he had probably brought a fleet of some twenty five ships. That probably meant well over a hundred sailors and ships’ boys to crew them and perhaps another twenty warriors to protect the beached ships. Sailors and boys could fight but it wasn’t something they were trained to do and they wouldn’t be much opposition for my ten warriors, or even the fyrd, if it weren’t for their numbers.
Alnwic was a sizeable settlement and was home to thirty five freemen, including their sons over sixteen. There were another ten boys who could use a sling or a hunting bow and so I wondered whether we would be enough to defeat the enemy at Beadnell Bay. If I could do so and burn Otta’s fleet he would be trapped here if things went badly for him. I must admit that doing something as significant, if not downright heroic, as destroying his ships appealed to my ego and that decided me.
~~~
It turned out that my father had been ill with worry about me. The depth of his anger when he next saw me was dictated by the extent of his concern, of course, but I didn’t realise that at the time. He had never berated me before like he did then and I reacted in kind.
‘Did you not think that I might be concerned about you when you sent no word of where you were or about what had happened at Alnwic? You are a stupid, thoughtless brat. It wasn’t until the fyrd of Alnwicshire started to drift in that I knew that at least you were still alive, but only because you sent messengers out to them.’
‘I only had ten men,’ I yelled back at him, something I’d never dared do before, but calling me, a grown man of twenty six, a stupid brat was not to be borne. ‘What was more important, calling out the fyrd or reporting back to you? There was nothing you could have done to help me so I did what I thought was right. You should have trusted me.’
He glowered at me, the rage still burning inside him, not helped by my own anger.
‘And then to try and defeat over twice the number of men you had with you in order to burn Otta’s fleet - that was foolhardy in the extreme. You’re nothing more than an immature seeker after glory. Did you not think that you might have led those men - and young boys too from what I’ve been told - to their deaths?’
He had a point. It was a little reckless but I felt that I had had a good plan and the prize was worth the risk and, when I thought about that night, I knew I’d been right.
My heart was pounding as Seward and I slithered forward on our bellies through the dunes until we could see the line of ships drawn up just above the high watermark. My estimate wasn’t far out. There were nineteen knarrs of various sizes and four birlinns. It was an hour before nightfall and the seamen and the warriors were gathered around a number of campfires on the beach eating and drinking.
Gradually the noise died away after dark until all that we could hear was the distant sound of snoring. They hadn’t even bothered to set sentries and so there was little risk of being discovered until we’d executed the first part of the plan. We slid back down to where the rest of my men were waiting. I nodded to Seward and he led the ten boys off through the dunes to the north. The rest of us settled down to wait.
Slowly a glow began to appear towards the northern end of the beach. My expectation was that, having set two ships on fire, the sailors – or some of them - would rush to put them out. That would divide our foes into two parties and, hopefully, we would be able to overcome one half before the others entered the fray.
So much for careful planning. The snoring continued undiminished as the ships crackled and burnt three hundred yards away. As I crouched there, unsure what to do, one of the men on the beach got up and walked towards the sea in order to take a piss. Suddenly he became aware of the fire and yelled in alarm. Even that only wakened a few at first, but they started to run towards the fire and more and more woke up and ran towards the blazing ships.
As I had expected, the warriors didn’t join them but armed themselves and looked around in case the other ships were attacked. As the craft were spread out over a distance of three hundred yards they couldn’t make up their minds where to station themselves. In the end they moved off to stand in the middle of the beach. By now the sparks from one of the fires had set the furled mainsail of a third knarr alight. One of the sailors had the presence of mind to grab buckets from the unaffected ships and started to scoop up seawater to try and dowse the flames. Others followed suit.
It looked as if they’d be busy for some time so I quietly passed the order along for the boys and archers to launch their attack. Fortunately it was a moonlit night and the silver band of light that reflected off the dappled water lit up the waiting mercenaries in silhouette. The first volley caught them unawares, their shields hanging by their sides and five went down, wounded or dead.
That left a dozen. There had been slightly fewer of them than I had expected. The next volley of stones and arrows mostly struck their shields and only one lucky shot hit home, striking a man in the eye. I couldn’t afford to wait
any longer and gave the order to charge. We were eleven trained warriors, backed up by three times that number of the fyrd, against eleven hard-bitten killers.
However, they were still rattled and they couldn’t tell warrior from weapon carrying farmer as we ran at them, illuminated by the moon in the sky behind them. No doubt it seemed to them as if we were a vastly superior force. We crashed into them, shield to shield, and forced them back by sheer weight of numbers. They fought for grip in the sand, and failed. First one and then more were pushed back and their shield wall broke. Then it was a free for all as we struggled to kill them all before the sailors saw what was happening.
I banged the boss of my shield into the fixed visor covering the top half of my adversary’s face and he swore at me as he struggled to free his sword to stab me. I had opted for a seax, which was more manageable in close quarter fighting, and thrust it into his mouth, twisting it upwards so that the point entered his brain. He dropped away and I looked around for a new opponent, but it was all over. The boys and the fyrd were killing the few remaining wounded whilst we rested on our shields breathing heavily.
The sailors hadn’t noticed the fight behind them and were still busy putting out the last of the flames. They needn’t have bothered; the three knarrs at the end wouldn’t be going out to sea again in a hurry. Those of us in chainmail trudged up the beach in line whilst the others ran ahead of us in a direction that would take them to the west of the sailors.
We were a mere fifty paces away when we were spotted, but at first they must have thought we were their warriors come to help. We soon disabused them of that notion when we started to cut them down. Then they yelled in alarm and desperately sought a weapon with which to defend themselves. Most had knives in their belts and some managed to pick up boathooks, pikes and oars from the other ships.
They had the advantage of greatly superior numbers and, despite their poor weapons and my helmet and chainmail byrnie, I found myself hard pressed until my other men hit them in the flank. The fyrd might not have armour or, for the most part, helmets, but they had spears, swords and shields. Hemmed in on two sides the sailors were being killed and wounded as if they were animals in a slaughter house.
Suddenly they broke and fled to the north. We managed to capture a few but perhaps fifty escaped.
‘Let them go,’ I shouted. ‘We can round them up later.’
We’d captured seven sailors and four ship’s boys. The rest were dead or badly wounded. My men went amongst the latter systematically slitting the throats of those who would die anyway. We set fire to most of the other ships but we kept three of the knarrs. We loaded the enemy wounded onto them and, with the unharmed prisoners as crew and the men of the fyrd to guard them, they set off the next morning to sail to Bebbanburg.
We had suffered some casualties, six dead and seven wounded – only one of the dead being a member of my father’s warband, thankfully, and they went with the others on the knarrs. The enemy dead were left as a feast for the buzzards.
The wind was light and so we managed to keep pace on land with the small flotilla of knarrs out to sea and entered Bebbanburg first. I was full of pride at my achievement so my father’s chastisement came as even more of a shock.
I glared at him when he’d finished his tirade. I was so full of righteous anger that it took all my will power not to hit him. He hadn’t even congratulated me on destroying Otta’s fleet and killing or taking prisoner their crews. I tried to control myself but failed, so I stormed off and re-mounted my horse. A few seconds later I rode out of Bebbanburg blind to everything but the need to get away from my father. I had ridden for a good five miles before I calmed down a little and realised that I didn’t know where I was going. Then I heard a rider behind me. It was Seward with the pack pony.
‘Where are we going, lord?’
‘To join my brother and King Eadbehrt,’ I said without having really thought about it.
~~~
We spent that night at the hall of Æthelwold Moll in Berwic. He wasn’t there of course; he’d taken his warband and the fyrd of Berwicshire to join the king. The reeve said that the muster point was Dùn Èideann on the south bank of the Firth of Forth so we headed there the next morning.
The weather had changed overnight and, although it wasn’t raining yet, the sky was so dark it was almost black and a strong wind swept along the firth from the east. At least it was at our backs so when the rain did come it hit the shield on my back. Seward wasn’t so lucky and his cloak was soon saturated.
In the early afternoon the rain stopped and the odd patch of blue sky appeared. Two hours later we were riding in sunshine. It took us over twelve hours to travel the sixty miles across country to Dùn Èideann. As darkness descended we saw the fortress on its rock outlined in black against an orange, purple and grey sky as the sun sank in the west.
There was no sign of an encampment so I rode on up to the gates of the stronghold. Unsurprisingly I was refused admittance until the morning and so Seward and I went to find somewhere to stay in the settlement at the base of the rock. It wasn’t a big place and the only tavern was filthy. There were more rats in the taproom than there were drinkers. It was a fine night and so we eventually camped by the side of the firth a little way from the settlement.
The next day the reeve told me that the king had moved south-west into the Moorfoot Hills to confront the Picts. As that had been four days ago I reasoned that any battle would have taken place by now and, as if to confirm my logic, a messenger sent by the local ealdorman arrived to say that the king had fought a great battle and the Picts were in full retreat.
My concern now was for my brother and so we set off once more, this time accompanied by the messenger as he could guide us to the king’s camp. We arrived there early in the afternoon and as I approached the large tent with Eadbehrt’s banner flying outside it I saw Renweard being attended to by a monk. He’d taken a cut to his right biceps but it had been cleaned and stitched. The monk was merely checking it and changing the dressing. Otherwise he seemed fine.
We embraced as the monk protested at the interruption to his work and I waited for him to finish before asking my brother what had happened.
‘Talorcan is a firebrand and launched an attack as soon as he saw us moving into position. As usual they came at us in no sort of formation and we managed to form a shield wall of sorts which held them off until the rest of the army could move into place. The archers started to fire at high trajectory into their packed ranks and then Eadbehrt led all the horsemen in a change into the enemy’s flank.
‘I managed to kill three of them before the point of a spear raked my arm and I dropped my sword. Much to my frustration, there was little more of use that I could do at that point and so I came back to the baggage train to have it treated. I’d borrowed a spear and was about to ride back into the fray when I heard a great cheer go up and saw the Picts running as fast as their legs could carry them. I rode after them and speared a couple before someone blew three blasts on a horn to call off the pursuit.
‘We harried them the next day all the way to the bridge over the River Forth and then came back here to our camp. Many escaped into the hills but they must have lost quite a few hundred, so I don’t think they’ll try that again soon. The word is that King Óengus is recovering and he’s furious with his brother.’
Later that day I was called into the king’s presence to tell him what I knew about Otta’s invasion. He seemed delighted about the destruction of his fleet and clapped me on the back before presenting me with a silver arm ring. Such an honour was usually reserved for members of his warband who had rendered him a particular service, so I felt particularly pleased. It was in marked contrast to my father’s reaction.
I wondered whether Renweard might be displeased as the king had yet to reward him, but he just seemed delighted for me. Two days later the army struck camp and started to move south towards Durham.
~~~
We never got that far. By the time w
e had travelled down Redesdale to Otterburn they had heard that Otta had been defeated by my father and the other ealdormen of Bernicia. He’d been trapped between the fortifications around the top of the hill that he’d been besieging and the advancing Northumbrian army. His mercenaries had soon fled and were being hunted down, but Otta had escaped.
We later found out that he had returned to his ships and, finding them destroyed, had continued up the coast, avoiding Bebbanburg, to take sanctuary in the monastery church on Lindisfarne. Eadbehrt immediately left those on foot with instructions that they should continue until they linked up with my father and his army and then help track down the mercenaries. He himself set off along Coquetdale with all the horsemen, including me, to capture Otta.
From Alnwic we headed north and two days later we passed Bebbanburg on the road to Lindisfarne. As luck would have it, the tide was in when we got there and so Eadbehrt paced up and down the shore waiting for it to go out again.
‘What do you think he’ll do when we reach the monastery,’ Renweard asked me as we sat in the shade of a tree, eating some hard cheese and stale bread, which was all that Seward had found for us to eat. He did well to do that; most of the rest hadn’t eaten for a day or more.
‘Ask Bishop Cynewulf to give Otta up, I imagine,’ I replied with a shrug. ‘You know the king better than I do.’
‘Given the mood he’s in now, I wouldn’t put anything past him. Hopefully, Cynewulf will see sense and do as Eadbehrt asks.’
As soon as the sea had gone out far enough we remounted and splashed through the shallow water to the island. By the time we reached the other side the tide was well out and we covered the last mile on wet sand. It was soft going and, such was the pace set by the king, our mounts were blown by the time we rode up a slight slope and onto dry land.