by H A CULLEY
‘Do you want to tell me anything else that I’m already well aware of?’ his father sneered. ‘Instead of reciting a list of woes, perhaps you would like to make some constructive proposals?’
‘Perhaps train some young warriors to scale those cliffs?’ suggested Peada, who had stood quietly in a corner of the tent up until now.
‘And then what?’
‘Lower some cord so that they can haul a rope ladder up. Once you have some warriors inside the fortress they can open the gates and let the rest of us in. It wouldn’t take us long to kill the small garrison he has inside the place.’
Peada let his father and brother think that he’d had an original idea, but he knew that was how Oswiu had managed to capture Dùn Èideann years ago.
‘Hmmm, it might work. Nothing’s lost except a few more lives if it doesn’t. Very well, select your climbers and go and find somewhere where they can train.’
~~~
Oswiu looked over the parapet at the besiegers’ camp to the west of Bebbanburg and smiled grimly.
‘There seems to be about a thousand less than there was three months ago,’ he remarked to the two members of his gesith who had accompanied him on his morning stroll along the walkway around the fortress.
As they walked on a few flakes of snow fluttered down from the steel coloured clouds above and the wind picked up. Oswiu drew his fur cloak closer about him to keep the cold out. He was now approaching forty and the icy blast off the German Ocean affected him more than it had done when he was a young man.
He stopped to talk to the sentries on top of the southern gate and to warm his hands on the brazier they used to thaw themselves out after patrolling their part of the defences. It was now snowing heavily. The three of them continued along the walkway along the east wall. There were no enemies along this stretch of the coast as it was within arrow range from the fortress but Oswiu enjoyed watching the waves crash the shoreline. He found it therapeutic. Suddenly one of his escort halted and pointed out to sea.
‘Cyning, a boat is approaching,’ he cried excitedly.
‘You’ve got sharp eyes, Baugulf,’ he told the warrior and the young man smiled, pleased at the compliment.
They watched as the fishing boat appeared out of the swirling blizzard and dropped its sail and glided onto the sandy beach.
‘You’ve got better eyes than me, Baugulf; can you see who it is yet?’
‘It looks like Catinus, but I can’t be sure.’
The man made his way across the sand towards the base of the rocky outcrop on which the fortress stood and then made his way along it to the sea gate. The Mercians kept an outpost two hundred yards from the gate but they either weren’t keeping a lookout in this weather or they didn’t try and stop the lone man, probably because they were well aware that the sentries on top of the gate included bowmen. Oswiu was waiting to greet him when the gate opened a fraction to allow him to slip inside.
‘Welcome back, Catinus. I’m indebted to you for the work you’ve done in turning his nobles against that wretch, Oswine. But why have you returned now? Is there news?’
‘Yes, Cyning. Perhaps we could go somewhere warmer first through. It was bloody freezing on that boat and I can’t feel my hands or feet.’
‘Yes, of course. Come with me.’
Oswiu started to lead the way towards his hall when a slave – a boy of about ten or eleven – came running up to him and knelt respectfully in front of him.
‘Cyning, the queen’s ladies sent me to inform you that she is in labour.’
‘Thank you.’ It wasn’t unexpected news; in fact the queen was late in giving birth this time and he hoped the baby wouldn’t be too big. ‘Come and tell me when the baby is safely born.’
‘Yes, Cyning.’
The boy darted away and the four men entered the hall, shaking the snow from their cloaks.
‘Right, Catinus, let’s have it,’ the king said as he stood facing the other man as they warmed themselves in front of the central hearth.
‘Penda’s in trouble. Cenwalh has declared Wessex as independent of Mercian domination and Anna has killed Penda’s emissary and his men.’
‘Excellent news.’ Oswiu’s eyes sparkled with delight. ‘You were quite right to return and let me know. He’ll have to break off the siege and return to deal with the revolt. I must get a message to Ceadda. I want his men harried all the way back into Mercia. Now I can deal with Oswine without interference from Penda.’
A little later he sent for Romuald, his custos.
‘Double the sentries from now on. Penda will have to abandon the siege soon and I’ve a nasty suspicion he’ll try something before he has to leave. It could be an all-out assault using scaling ladders or it could be something else.’
I’ll have stones and oil ready to throw down on the attackers in case he tries an assault and I’ll get every container filled with water in case he uses fire arrows to burn us out; mind you, I don’t think that stands much chance of success with all this snow covering the roofs.’
As soon as Romuald left he noticed the slave boy from earlier standing nervously just inside the door.
‘What is it boy? Do I have another son?’
‘No, Cyning. I’m afraid not.’
‘Oh! A daughter then?’
The lad shook his head. ‘No Cyning. The baby was born dead.’
Oswiu should have known by the way that the lad was trembling in fear that something was amiss.
‘The queen? Is she alright?’ he asked more harshly than he’d intended.
‘Yes, Cyning. I was told to say that she’s weak but they’ve staunched the bleeding and she’s asleep.’
Oswiu nodded. ‘So the cowards sent you to tell me the bad news.’
He strode towards the door to go and see how his wife was for himself and to give the midwife and the queen’s attendants a piece of his mind but he stopped when he reached the boy.
‘What’s your name lad?’
‘Ansgar, Cyning.’
‘An Angle or a Saxon?’ he asked in surprise. ‘Never mind, you can tell me later why you’re a slave. For now come with me.’
Thankfully, apart from a tear which the old midwife has stitched with catgut, Eanflæd was suffering from nothing more serious than exhaustion. The baby had been a boy but Oswiu thought that perhaps, given the strange bulbous head, it was probably just as well it had been a stillbirth. He got his chaplain to christen the child and then he was immediately buried beside the timber church.
He’d forgotten about Ansgar until the boy came to stand by his side at the brief funeral service. The boy had been terrified when he was told go and tell the king about his dead son but he’d done so bravely and Oswiu was impressed with his courage. Most slaves his age, or any age, wouldn’t have dared go anywhere near the king, let alone be the one to break the dreadful news to him.
‘What’s your story Ansgar? Briefly, I haven’t got all day.’
‘My parents were villeins but one bad harvest after another left them in debt. They sold themselves, my elder brother and me to the thegn. He kept them as slaves to work his land but I was too young to be of any use so he sent me to the slave market. The custos bought me and I became a scullion and worked in the kitchens. I happened to be passing when one of the queen’s ladies came out of her hall looking for someone to take a message to you. That’s it really.’
Oswiu looked at the boy’s ruddy complexion and grease stained tunic and smiled.
‘It’s your lucky day, lad. My body servant wants to become a warrior, though he’s taken long enough to decide that’s what he wants. Unlike you he’s a freeman, but you can replace him - if that’s what you want.’
‘To serve you as your personal servant, Cyning? But I don’t know what to do.’
‘You’ll understudy him for a month and then, if he thinks you’re good enough, you can take over.’
‘I don’t know what to say, Cyning.’
‘Then say nothing. I don’t employ my
servants to make conversation with me. You’ll only speak if you’ve something important to tell me or in reply to a question. Clear?’
‘Yes, Cyning.’
‘Right now go and have a bath and get dressed in something more suitable for your new role.’
Oswiu might not want his new body slave to talk to him, but keeping quiet wasn’t something that Ansgar was very good at. He always had an interesting bit of gossip to relay to the king and Oswiu found that he knew more about what was happening in his court now than he ever had before. Such information wasn’t only useful, Oswiu quickly learned that it gave him a great deal of knowledge he wouldn’t otherwise be privy to and knowledge was power.
~~~
Two nights after Catinus’ arrival Penda made his move and sent his climbers to scale the western cliff and palisade. It was a still night without a cloud in the sky, not the sort of night to remain unobserved. It was also extremely cold and the water on the rock had frozen. The climbers did their best to scale the cliff but it was too slippery. When one of them fell to his death he didn’t do so quietly and the sentries soon spotted the other climbers. A few arrows were aimed at them but it was an impossible shot at that angle. Just so long as they remained clinging to the rock face they were safe from the archers.
They weren’t protected from oil though and several pitchers of the stuff were poured over the parapet, soaking them. Flaming torches followed and the climbers screamed in agony as their flesh quickly charred in the flames. Seconds later they were smashed to death as they fell onto the rocks below, mercifully putting an end to their suffering. A silence descended on the scene as the flames died down and those on both sides who had witnessed their deaths sombrely turned away.
It was the end of Penda’s attempt to take Bebbanburg, at least for now.
Gamanulf lay in wait with his men as the dispirited column of Mercians and Middle Anglians trudged past along the frozen path covered in hard packed snow. As more and more feet passed along it the slippery surface melted and the rear of the despondent army had to cope with mud instead. The snow continued to fall to add to their woes.
Suddenly thirty arrows shot by the archers hidden in the trees hit the centre of the column and several men fell dead and wounded. Another thirty followed and more men fell. The Mercians howled with rage and ran into the trees to take their revenge on their attackers. This was about the twentieth time that they had been ambushed like this and they were desperate to get to grips with their persecutors.
Once in the trees there was no sign of the archers. Instead men rose up behind them and cut their throats or speared them in the back. Less than half of the hundred who had darted into the trees made it back to the column.
By the time they camped for the second night they had lost over two hundred men to the Bernicians hit and run tactics. They weren’t entirely unsuccessful in finding those who attacked them, but only a dozen had been caught and killed in the first two days.
They camped along both banks of the River Aln that night and set sentries every fifteen yards around the perimeter. Fires blazed all along the river bank as the frozen warriors tried to thaw out and dry their sodden clothing. Penda seemed oblivious to the fact that the fires would silhouette his sentries to those outside the camp whilst keeping them in shadow from inside.
Gamanulf and his ten most experienced scouts slithered on their bellies through the snow and slush towards the ring of sentries. The scouts wore undyed woollen cloaks that blended into the snow and carried bows. When they were forty yards from the ring of sentries they cautiously rose to a kneeling position behind a bush or tree and aimed at the silhouetted figures. Every arrow struck true but, even with the light of fires and the moon reflected from the snow, the visibility wasn’t good enough to ensure a kill and about half of the sentries aimed at were only wounded.
Their screams and cries of alarm woke the camp and the scouts sent one more volley towards the Mercians who were now streaming out of the camp before they retreated in a hurry. Their pursuers lost them in the trees but those that got separated from the bulk of their fellows never returned to the camp. Shadowy figures dropped from trees or appeared from behind bushes and cut their throats. All told the Mercians and their allies lost another fifty men that night for the loss of four of Oswiu’s.
The next morning the camp woke up to more falling snow. Few had slept well and tiredness coupled with low morale made them listless. The column made its way along the Aln to a crossing place but, when they got there, they found Oswiu had beaten them to it and was holding the far bank.
The army ranged behind him wasn’t large, which surprised Penda, but it was large enough to make crossing the river an expensive business in terms of casualties; particularly given the low morale of his men and their evident reluctance to contest the crossing. As he sat there wondering what to do for the best, a rider urged his horse though the press of warriors on foot surrounding the king
‘Cyning,’ he cried, trying to get his breath back. ‘There is a large army behind us and coming up fast.’
That explained where the rest of the Bernicians were he thought grimly. No doubt they had been reinforced by the Angles of Goddodin and the Britons of Rheged as well, perhaps even the Britons of Strathclyde and some of Talorgan’s Picts had joined Oswiu too. He was well aware that they could have attacked him whilst he was besieging Bebbanburg, and he had expected it, but Oswiu evidently thought he didn’t need them at that stage. He knew he was trapped.
Oswiu rode forward accompanied by his nephew, Œthelwald, and the captain of his gesith, Redwald. Catinus followed them proudly bearing Oswiu’s banner aloft and Ansgar followed on his pony carrying the king’s helmet. Oswiu was bareheaded to show that he wanted to talk, not fight. Ceadda wasn’t present because he was commanding the army that had trapped Penda’s forces between him and the river.
Penda called his two sons to his side, gave his helmet to his servant and rode forward to meet Oswiu, splashing into the middle of the ford to do so.
‘I suppose you think you’ve got the better of me this time?’
‘I don’t think, I know. You’re surrounded Penda. You must be getting senile to have walked into this trap.’
Wulfhere’s hand went for his sword but his father put out an arm to stop him. He was well aware of the hundred archers on the opposite bank, even if his hot-headed younger son wasn’t.
‘Not so, our numbers are evenly matched. I’ll leave a small force here to stop you crossing and take the rest to slaughter the ragged collection of farmers, sheep fanciers and barbarians behind me.’
‘I might just let you, if only to have the pleasure of seeing you eat your words.’
Penda had had enough of trading insults and idle banter.
‘What is it you want, Oswiu?’
‘Not too much, just the head of the traitor Oswine.’
Penda laughed. ‘He and his pathetic excuse for an army deserted me last night, just after you attacked my sentries. I suspect that he’s halfway back to Eoforwīc by now.’
‘If he is, he’s a fool. The eorl will bar the gates against him.’
‘That’s not my problem. Now, anything else?’
‘Yes, you and I are going to sign a truce. You are going to swear an oath before whatever peculiar gods you believe in not to attack me again and, furthermore, to recognise Wessex as an independent kingdom.’
At that both Peada and Wulfhere started to whisper urgently in their father’s ear. Eventually he nodded.
‘Very well. I agree, but no truce is infinite. Shall we say for a year?’
Oswiu laughed. ‘You must think I’m stupid. Five years at least.’
Penda laughed. ‘How will you ensure that I keep my word? Come to that, how do I know that you will keep yours?’
‘I have never been foresworn; you know that. However, I will lodge two chests of silver in your keeping as evidence of my good intent. If I break the treaty it will be forfeit. In five years it will be returned to me.’
‘Really?’ Penda’s greedy little eyes lit up at the prospect of so much money. ‘You trust me to keep it safe?’
‘Of course not. I want a hostage from you in return.’
‘Who?’
‘Your son Æthelred.’
‘But he’s only just five!’
‘It’s a good deal, father. You’ve got two other sons; you don’t need a third,’ Peada whispered loudly enough for Oswiu to hear.
For a moment he thought Penda was going to strike his eldest son. Instead he hissed something at him quietly and Peada went puce with rage. Oswiu smiled to himself when he saw it. Perhaps he could drive a wedge between the two. It seemed that Penda was rather fonder of his youngest son than he was of the eldest.
‘I agree, provided you swear to treat my son as you would your own.’
‘Of course. He will be brought up with my younger children. One more thing.’
‘Haven’t you extracted enough blood from this particular stone for one day? Well, what is it?’
‘Æthelred is to be brought up as a devout Christian and he must be baptised.’
For a moment Penda was silent and Oswiu wondered whether he’d pushed him too far. He breathed a sigh of relief when he replied.
‘Very well. It makes no difference to me.’
~~~
‘Oswiu might have forced me into a truce with him and Cenwalh, but he said nothing about East Anglia. I have a score to settle with King Anna. Peada, you can have the honour of leading the invasion.’
Penda was sitting in the king’s hall at Towcester with his two sons and several of his eorls. After concluding the truce he had returned to Mercia, whilst Oswiu had immediately started a search for the unfortunate Oswine. It was now late August and Penda hoped that Anna wouldn’t expect him to invade in the middle of harvest time. He planned a swift campaign against the ill-prepared East Anglians which would be over before the season became too cold and wet for campaigning.
He didn’t anticipate any interference from either Wessex or Bernicia. Cenwalh was still re-establishing his rule over part of his kingdom and Oswiu was busy hunting Oswine.