by H A CULLEY
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Æthelred looked around the hall, meeting the eyes of every noble and churchman present at the meeting of the Witan in turn, before he spoke.
‘Whilst Wessex, Mercia and even East Anglia to the south gain in power, prestige and prosperity, Northumbria has become a backwater,’ he stated, then paused waiting for anyone to disagree.
No one did.
‘Once the rulers of this kingdom were bretwaldas, not only of much of England, but also of the kingdoms north of Northumbria – the Land of the Picts, Strathclyde and Dalriada. Since then we have only hung onto what we have by luck. The struggle between Wessex and Mercia in the south and between various contenders for the Pictish throne in the north have left us in peace. Only Strathclyde threatened us, but now the Norse settlers threaten to take our lands in the west and Danes increasingly attack us in the east.’
He paused briefly in his tirade and took a deep breath before continuing.
‘It is to my eternal regret that my father has been able to do little or nothing to defend our kingdom over the past two decades.’
Here he looked at the elderly man who sat on the throne on a raised dais, glaring balefully at him.
‘I agree,’ Rædwulf of Cumbria said, getting to his feet. ‘Perhaps it’s time that the father retired to a monastery and allowed the son to take the throne.’
There was a murmur of agreement around the hall but Æthelred held up his hand just as his father leapt to his feet, his face puce with rage. Before he could vent his spleen his son reassured him.
‘I have no intention of replacing my father as king whilst he still lives and wishes to remain on the throne. No, my proposal is that I help him to rule more effectively. I request that you appoint me as King Eanred’s sub-regulus and also as the hereræswa.’
At this Eanred subsided onto his throne but he still looked angry. He gnawed his lower lip, drawing blood, but contented himself with glowering at his only son. Æthelred waited calmly for the hubbub that followed his announcement to subside.
‘How will this arrangement work? Will you rule jointly?’ Rædwulf asked. ‘I can’t see that working very efficiently. We need a strong leader, not a bickering couple.’
‘My father will remain as king and be treated with all the respect that his position requires. I will take over responsibility for the day to day governance of Northumbria.’
‘And how will you deal with the pirate menace that stalks our shores?’ another of the ealdormen asked.
‘By building longships to equal theirs, just as Eafa of Bebbanburg did twenty five years ago. Only this time I’ll build a secure harbour protected by a fortress to keep them safe when they are not at sea.’
‘You mentioned a harbour; you mean just one haven, presumably on the east coast?’ Wigmund, Archbishop of Eoforwīc queried. ‘Where will it be located? The coastline must be at least two hundred miles long. I suggest Whitby; from there it can protect the most populated part of the kingdom.’
This caused an uproar with the ealdormen of Bernicia and Lothian demanding that it be located much further north and Rædwulf asking about Cumbria and Luncæstershire.
Æthelred made no attempt to intervene; instead he waited patiently for the tumult to die down.
‘Obviously we will need to discuss the details calmly and reach a logical solution,’ he said, once he could be heard. ‘I am not so foolish as to think that we can defeat every attempt to raid our lands. The important thing is to be strong enough to dissuade these pagans from thinking we are a soft target. My aim is to make it so hazardous for them that they go elsewhere where the pickings are easier.
‘What I ask of you now is your formal recognition of me as sub-regulus.’
After that had been agreed unanimously, much to Eanred’s displeasure, Æthelred had one more announcement to make before the Witan broke up for the day.
‘I will need the help of one man, currently in exile, to help me build my fleet and to take charge of it as my admiral. No-one is more suited to that role than Edmund of Bebbanburg.’
Anson, the man to whom Eanred had given Bebbanburg and made Ealdorman of Islandshire, got to his feet, his face white.
‘You cannot take away what is mine,’ he spluttered.
‘Ealdormen are royal appointments, Anson, I am sorry to have to do this, but the interests of the kingdom have to come first. You were a thegn in Deira before my father elevated you, I think. So at least you won’t be homeless, as we made Edmund for no good reason.’
He glared at his father who shifted uncomfortably on his throne. Æthelred had never reminded him that Edmund’s brother, Ilfrid, had died because of his father’s greed, but what had happened that day had clouded the relationship between father and son.
‘You’ll regret this, Æthelred,’ Anson hissed at him.
‘Are you threatening me? I would tread very carefully if I were you - that is if you wish to avoid a charge of treason.’
Æthelred was sure of his ground. Anson had never been a popular choice to replace Edmund. The latter’s family had held Bebbanburg for two centuries and had become the unofficial leaders of the north of the kingdom. Kendric, the ealdorman who held the border along the Firth of Forth, including the mighty fortresses of Dùn Barra and Dùn Èideann, had nearly risen in revolt at the time, but luckily his fellow ealdormen of Lothian had persuaded him otherwise.
Now the announcement of Edmund’s reinstatement was applauded by the majority of the Witan, including Eanbert, the newly appointed Bishop of Lindisfarne.
Anson subsided, defeated for now, but he exchanged a look with Eanred which boded trouble for Æthelred in the future.
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Edmund was with King Charles the Bald, Count Louis of Arras and several other nobles when the messenger came.
‘I maintain that paying these Vikings seven thousand livres in silver and gold to go away is merely rewarding them for the carnage and destruction that they have wrought. Pay now and they will return again next year demanding more money,’ Louis said, vehemently opposed to what Charles had proposed.
‘You are forgetting two things, Louis,’ the king replied calmly. ‘It is partly a ransom for the release of the saintly Abbot of Saint Denis and those of his monks who have survived and, secondly, they may be pagan pirates, but they have a reputation for keeping their oaths. If Ragnar Lodbrok swears to cease from raiding Frankia for a period of three years, we will have that time to improve our defences and build up our forces once more.’
‘Don’t forget, Louis,’ another count added, ‘the king’s brothers are still causing trouble in the south and the east. These Norsemen and Danes are formidable fighters and, even if we could defeat them – something which is far from certain given your past performance against them in the field – it would weaken us and leave us vulnerable.’
Louis looked at him angrily. He didn’t like to be reminded of his incompetence, which had led to the loss of Paris. He had tried to blame Edmund but the king was well aware that the Northumbrian was the only one who had scored a measure of success against the Vikings.
‘Good. It’s decided then. I will negotiate with Ragnar along the lines we have agreed. Excellent.’
As Edmund stepped outside the royal pavilion a tired and travel worn man holding an equally exhausted horse stepped into his path.
‘Ealdorman Edmund of Bebbanburg?’ he enquired hopefully in English with the unmistakeable accent of a man from the north.
‘I used to be. Who wants to know?’ Edmund asked puzzled by the presence of a stranger from Northumbria so far from home.
‘I have a letter for you from Sub-regulus Æthelred, lord.’
‘Sub-regulus?’
‘Yes, Lord Æthelred now rules Northumbria on behalf of his father.’
‘Really? So Eanred is still king?’
‘In name only, lord.’
‘I see. Go and get some food and get some sleep. Come and find me when you are awake to see if I have a reply. My camp is over
in that direction. Tell Cynefrith, the captain of my warband that I sent you.’
As the man trudged away Edmund broke the seal and unrolled the parchment.
To my trusty and faithful Lord Edmund, in whom I have great faith it began.
I have long regretted the injustice that was done to you and to your brother Ilfrid. It is only now that I can do something to make some sort of amends. I realise that nothing I can do will bring Ilfrid back, nor can I make up for the time that you have spent as an exile. However, I can at least restore your home at Bebbanburg to you and re-appoint you as Ealdorman of Islandshire. The bearer of this document also carries with him the necessary deeds to restore your property and status. Anson has been ordered to quit your lands by the end of March and so I would be grateful if you could take possession then.
I have it in mind to build a fleet to counter the Viking marauders and I would count it a great favour if you would construct as many longships as you consider necessary to guard my eastern seaboard. You will, of course, take command of this naval force as its admiral.
I look forward to renewing our acquaintance as soon as possible after your return to Northumbria. There are many things for us to discuss, not least the programme for ship building and the training of their warrior crews. We will also need to decide on a safe haven for the fleet when it is not at sea. Budle Bay will not serve, I fear. It’s too exposed and perhaps a little too far north.
The letter ended in the usual verbose way and Edmund was interested to note that Æthelred described himself as Sub-regulus and Hereræswa of Northumbria.
Edmund walked off, heading away from the vast camp, to find some peace and quiet where he could reflect on the offer which Æthelred had made to him. His initial reaction had been one of joy that he was being allowed to return home, but princes seldom act out of altruism. Evidently the effective ruler of Northumbria wanted him to defend it from Viking attack. He knew from experience that it was an impossible task. The most he might be able to do was to dissuade all but the boldest Vikings from preying on such a long coastline.
If he failed, no doubt he would shoulder the blame. Æthelred would only be guilty of choosing the wrong man to be his admiral. And what about the western coast, which was nearly as long as that in the east? Æthelred’s letter had said nothing about that.
Still, what did he have to lose? His home and his warehouse in Paris had been torched and it would be some time before he could operate out of Paris again. His temporary base at Châlons-sur-Marne, to where most of his goods had been shipped, was not somewhere to conduct trade from very easily.
His one regret was that he’d always promised to revenge Ilfrid’s death and, if he took up this offer, he would have to accept the detested Eanred as his king, even if only in name.
He sighed. Was he really about to reject reinstatement as an ealdorman because of his hatred of an old man who no longer had any power? Hopefully, he’d soon be dead anyway.
All in all it was an easy decision to make. He’d leave a competent manager to sort everything out and return to England. His mind made up he retraced his steps and went to find Æthelred’s messenger.
PART FOUR – THE RAVEN VERSUS THE WOLF
THE FINAL CONFLICT
Chapter Seventeen – The Return Home
Autumn 846
Ragnar set sail for Norway in the late summer. By then his army had shrunk to no more than fourteen hundred. Many more had died of the plague or dysentery and others had found wives and had decided to settle in Frankia. Knowing how well they fought, Charles had encouraged them to stay, granting farms to them in the area that later became known as Northman’s Land or Normandy. However, he insisted that the settlers become Christians; a stipulation which reduced their potential numbers considerably.
The rest were forced to delay their departure until they could build new longships. Ragnar also kept the four knarrs that Olaf had captured and at the end of July they and the eighteen new longships set sail for home.
Once more he was greeted by Ivar and Bjorn standing together on the jetty at Arendal to welcome him. He had liked Edda and was saddened by his betrayal. He was, however, inordinately proud of how the boys had defeated the traitor’s scheme to replace him.
Five new jarls were required to replace those killed in Frankia and, with Edda’s perfidy in mind, he ignored the custom whereby the regional Thing elected their jarl and he appointed those he trusted, including Olaf who took Edda’s place. There was some opposition to this change from the traditionalists, but the wealth brought back from Frankia had increased Ragnar’s standing even further and no one openly challenged his decision.
Olaf had long held ambitions for advancement and seeing others become jarls had started to rankle. It was frustrating that he, effectively the second most important man in the two kingdoms, remained a mere bondi, as his wife was quick to point out at every opportunity. His advancement therefore came at the right time for him. It did mean that he wouldn’t be so close to Ragnar now, but he could see the king’s sons, especially Ivar, taking that position soon in any case.
He was even more convinced of this when, even though they were well below the usual age for such an honour, Ragnar made both Ivar and Bjorn members of his council.
The ultimate result of the campaign to capture Paris might have been a success, but it had cost Ragnar too many fine warriors and he was sensible enough to realise that he would have to wait a few years until boys grew into men in order to replenish his numbers. Unfortunately the time necessary for this wasn’t something that the Norns gave him.
It was Yingvi, newly created jarl of Adger’s easternmost lands, who brought him the news. Eystein Beli had been incensed by the death of his brother and the loss of most of the men he’d sent with Osten. It seemed that the truce between the King of Uppsala and Ragnar was over.
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Anson had been reluctant to cede Bebbanburg to Edmund when he eventually arrived in September 846. Keen as he was to return to his homeland, Edmund had been forced to remain in Frankia until Charles released him, and the king wasn’t going to do that until after Ragnar had sailed.
Edmund used the time to build a longship of his own, paying a Norse shipwright to do the work alongside a drekar the man was constructing for Ragnar. He rebuilt his warehouse in Paris, this time in stone, and moved his goods back there once he was convinced that the Vikings were on the point of leaving without any further trouble.
Stone was expensive - more so as Charles was building a wall to defend the city against any further attacks from the river – but Edmund thought the expense worthwhile if it saved his merchandise from being burned. It would also make pilfering more difficult.
The next problem was who to leave in charge. He could have appointed a Frank, but he preferred someone he knew he could trust. In the end his unexpected choice fell on his servant, Laughlin.
During the years he had spent in Paris the man had become as much of an assistant as a personal servant and he knew the business as well as Edmund did. Plus he knew that he could trust him. He was loyal and extremely grateful for the appointment. Furthermore it meant that his new manager could now marry the Frankish widow he had been visiting whenever his duties allowed.
When Edmund finally arrived in Budle Bay in his new longship, accompanied by three knarrs that he proposed to fill with goods for export to Paris, he found Anson’s bull’s head standard still flying over the fortress. As Edmund only had the hundred men and a dozen boys who had crewed his ships any assault was out of the question. He didn’t know how many men Anson had inside, but he suspected that it might be as many as fifty or sixty. Enough to defend the walls at any rate.
Edmund wasted no time. Having been prevented from entering Bebbanburg peaceably, he hired horses and sent messengers to Kenric at Dùn Èideann in the north and to Æthelred. Meanwhile he besieged the stronghold. His warband couldn’t guard both entrances on their own without the danger of being overcome by a sally, so he called out the fyrd t
o reinforce his warband and sat down to wait.
For a time nothing happened and it began to look as if he might have to starve Anson out. That being the case, he could only hope that his arrival had been unexpected and that there was only enough food already in the store huts to last for a month or so.
In the end he didn’t have to wait as long as that. Kenric and the ealdormen of Lothian had only just joined him with several hundred more men when a messenger from Æthelred arrived. The missive was addressed to Anson and the man read it out at the top of his voice before the main gates.
‘To the Thegn Anson and all occupants of the fortress known as Bebbanburg,’ he began pompously. ‘The fortress and all of Islandshire now belongs to Ealdorman Edmund, by the will of King Eanred. All those who continue to oppose the decision of the king and his vice-regulus, Æthelred the Ætheling, one hour after the reading of this proclamation will be deemed traitors and their lives shall be forfeit, as shall the lives of any sons over the age of fourteen. The rest of their families will be sold as slaves.
By God’s grace,
Eanred, King of Northumbria.
The messenger rolled up the scroll and put it back inside the leather cylinder before handing it to Edmund.
‘Let’s hope that works, lord. I wouldn’t want to be the one to have to assault that place,’ he said as he went to wash and get something to eat.