by H A CULLEY
‘Thankfully the king is unharmed and the mercenaries are dead or captured.’
‘Who would pay men to try to kill Oswiu?’
‘The king has his suspicions but it would be wrong of me to speculate.’
‘Who will replace Romand as custos?’ the commander of the garrison asked.
It was evident to Catinus from his tone that the man had hopes of advancement himself, despite his advancing years.
He pulled out two parchments rolled into leather cylinders and handed one to each man.
‘I see,’ the reeve said looking up from the letter. ‘The king obviously has great faith in you to appoint one so young.’
He didn’t add and a Mercian Briton to boot. He didn’t need to; the tone with which he said it conveyed the sentiment without words.
‘Yes he has. Before he appointed me as custos I was the acting captain of his gesith.’
That shut both men up and they nodded.
‘Will you want my men paraded so that you can address them?’ the garrison commander asked.
‘Yes, before rumours start to fly. Shall we say in ten minutes?’
‘Ten minutes?’
The man was obviously startled. Catinus had a nasty suspicion that, had he given him long enough, he’d have tried to sow dissention amongst his men.
‘No time like the present.’
‘Very well, lord, as you command.’
‘Yes I do.’
He turned to the reeve. Breda was a cleric, a monk who had been sub-prior of Lindisfarne before Bishop Aidan had sent him to serve the king. His skills lay in the fields of provisioning and the efficient running of a household. Everyone, except the soldiers, were responsible to him from the brewer to the blacksmith, from the cooks to the stable boys. He ran a complex organisation and Catinus was well aware of it. Unlike the commander, who Catinus intended to replace as soon as possible, he needed this man on his side.
‘Tomorrow I’d like you to start to show me around. I’m familiar with the defence of the fortress, of course, but I’ve only a vague idea how about how everything else works.’
Breda looked at him slightly suspiciously. Not one of the previous custos had ever shown the slightest interest in his side of the house.
‘Don’t worry,’ Catinus said with a slight laugh, ‘I don’t intend to interfere with what you do, unless I can help solve a problem, of course, but I do want to understand what those problems are.’
Breda looked relieved, and he realised that he was pleased by the new custos’ curiosity about what he did.
Catinus walked out of the hall onto the grass sward in front of it. Bebbanburg was built on the top of cliffs but they weren’t flat. The ground sloped away on all sides from where the hall and the watchtower were built. The garrison was gathered on the incline below him, in front of the warrior’s hall.
‘Many of you know me as a member of the king’s gesith; for those that don’t my name is Catinus. I’m sure that rumours have now spread about the ambush in which the former custos, Romand, was tragically killed. The good news is that the king is safe and the ambushers, a group of Friesian mercenaries, have been dealt with.’
He paused at this point to let his eyes sweep over the assembled warriors. He engaged as many as possible in eye to eye contact. With a start he noticed that their commander wasn’t present. His lips tightened; he’d deal with him later.
‘King Oswiu has been pleased to appoint me as your new custos.’
He waited for the hubbub that this statement created to die down.
‘Those that know me will confirm that I treat everyone fairly, but I am not fond of fools or foolish talk. If you have concerns don’t discuss them behind closed doors but bring them to me and I’ll deal with them honestly and impartially. I know that garrison duty can be wearisome and it tends to blunt your fighting ability. I have therefore decided to institute a programme of weapon training and to run competitions to see who is the best archer, swordsman and rider.
‘Yes, I did say rider. I want as many of you as possible to learn how to ride so that we can mount patrols, both along the coast and inland. This fortress has been under attack twice in recent years and we must assume that it could be again. I therefore want to know if any strangers are spying on us. Now, where is your commander?’
He’d again scanned the sea of faces looking at him and was confident that the man wasn’t amongst them.
‘I see. Well, it is perhaps time that he enjoyed a well-earned retirement. I will need to choose a replacement, however. I want you to select four of your number who you think would make a good leader. I will then talk to them and put them through a series of tests. One will be made your commander and the other three will become watch captains.’
From the excited buzz of conversation he knew that this novel method of choosing their leader had gone down well with them. Any who felt that the sacking of their previous commander was unfair quickly forgot about him in the excitement. He hadn’t been unpopular but he kept himself apart from the men and that didn’t earn him much loyalty either.
The idea of watch captains was a new one too. It meant that each third of the garrison who were on duty at any one time had someone in charge of them. Catinus’ intention had been to give the new commander some support, but they would also improve the effectiveness of the sentries as well. No more would they be able to find a sheltered spot and go to sleep.
‘Now disperse; those of you on watch return to your posts. The rest of you, get your armour cleaned and weapons sharpened. You never know when you might need them. We’ll meet again tomorrow morning for the election.’
Pleased with the way his introduction had gone down Catinus went off to the hut reserved for the custos and found two slaves there – a boy and his elder sister. The place was tidy but it was obvious that they weren’t expecting their master back any time soon. Catinus sent the boy, Leofric, off to collect his gear from the stables and told the girl, who said her name was Sunngifu, to change the straw in his palliase and give the place a sweep.
When Leofric returned he told him to unpack a spare set of clothes and he walked out of the sea gate and down to the sandy beach where he stripped off and ran into the cold, grey sea. Feeling refreshed he ran back up the beach and let Leofric dry him with cloth before getting dressed. The boy told him that he was a Mercian who had been captured with his sister during a raid across the border. The last custos had bought them at a slave auction a few weeks before he was killed so being slaves was very new to both of them.
Catinus sympathised with the boy and his sister, but they were there to serve him and he had to maintain his distance or lose their respect for him as their new master. He therefore merely nodded and told him he would allow them some leeway but they had better be quick learners. He decided to ask Breda to find a slave who could explain their duties to them. He’d never had a slave before so he only had a vague idea of what they should do.
Once he was dressed, Catinus made his way to the blacksmiths. He was just finishing for the day but his eyes lit up when the new custos told him he wanted to order a new bynie, helmet and sword. His old armour was battered and the mail had broken links. His sword was badly nicked and wouldn’t hold a sharp edge. Oswiu had given him a small bag of silver when he had made him custos and Catinus had spent most of it by the time he left the forge. The rest would have to go towards purchasing new clothes more in keeping with his new status, and he supposed Sunngifu would need some to buy food at the weekly market. At least he wouldn’t need to worry about meat. There was a dovecote and the local fishermen could be relied upon to keep the garrison supplied with a proportion of their catch in lieu of paying taxes. Furthermore, he would lead a hunt in a few days’ time to see if they could add boar and venison to the larder.
When he returned to his hut he found the girl busy preparing an evening meal. He had thought of eating in the warrior’s hall but the delicious smell emanating from the cooking pot soon changed his mind. Suddenly som
ething made him think of Conomultus. As king’s chaplain his younger brother hadn’t gone on the hunt, so he was still at Yeavering. He didn’t get on with the queen’s chaplain and he’d probably welcome a chance to get away from him for a bit. He’d send a messenger to him tomorrow inviting him to return to Bebbanburg to await the king’s return from Deira there.
~~~
Oswiu was still on his way to Eoforwīc when a messenger from King Cenwalh of Wessex caught up with him. He had sought him at Yeavering and been directed towards Ledes. He’d arrived the day after Oswiu had left and had managed to reach him a few miles short of the Deiran capital.
He read the message with growing disbelief, then re-read it before handing it to Ceadda.
To Oswiu, King of Northumbria and Lord of the North, it began.
‘You will probably find the tidings in this letter as unbelievable as I did when I first heard it. When Penda tied himself to your house by marriage, not once but twice over, I thought that he genuinely sought peace. I was mistaken.
It seems that this was merely a delaying tactic to give him enough time to build up and train his army and to either buy off or purchase the support of others, namely the East Anglians and the East Saxons. Some reports also mention a contingent from Gwynedd. Most worryingly of all, I am told that your own nephew has been bought by Penda with the promise that he’ll make Œthelwald King of Northumbria as his vassal in return for his support.
My sources lead me to believe that Penda has only delayed his attack on you because Peada is ill and he has gone to visit him. Penda thinks he has bought me off with gold but I have no desire to see him as Bretwalda of all England. Therefore name the time and place and I will bring my war host to join you. Hopefully we can then wipe the pagan scourge that is Penda of Mercia from the face of this land.
In the name of Christ, our Lord,
Cenwalh.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN – THE BATTLE OF THE WINWAED
November 655 AD
Penda looked down at the grey and wasted face of his eldest son and pursed his lips. He was no fool and he knew the signs of slow poisoning when he saw it. The froth on his lips and the sunken eyes weren’t due to any illness he’d come across. Besides Peada didn’t have a fever.
His two others sons, Wulfhere and the ten year old Æthelred, stood by his side as he confronted the healer who was supposedly helping Alchflaed to look after Peada.
‘Why are you poisoning my son?’
‘I’m not…’ the woman started to bluster.
‘Don’t take me for an idiot! Where is the powder you’ve been giving him to supposedly make him better?’
The old woman reluctantly produced a small leather pouch containing the white powder. Penda picked up the goblet of water from a nearby table and tipped the contents of the pouch into it. He stirred it with his knife and wiped the blade on the woman’s clothes.
‘Now drink this for you to prove how efficacious it is.’ When she hesitated he added, ‘or you can be burned as a witch if you prefer.’
She grimaced and drank the contents of the goblet. Five minutes later she was foaming at the mouth and writhing on the floor. This didn’t last long before her convulsions changed to weak twitching. Finally all movement ceased and she was undoubtedly dead, but Penda cut her throat just to make sure.
All the while Alchflaed watched frozen in terror. She was convinced that she was next but Penda seemed to think that she was innocent of involvement; presumably assuming that she was an unwitting dupe. After all, she was only twelve and, as far as Penda knew, his son hadn’t even touched her as yet. One glance at the scars and fading bruises on the body under her shift would have convinced him otherwise.
‘Take care of him, Alchflaed,’ he said with a nasty grin. ‘I expect to see him back on his feet again by the time I’ve defeated your father. If not, with Oswiu dead so is your usefulness to me. However, cure him and I’ll let you continue to be my son’s wife, so don’t let me down.’
The threat was clear. She was caught between two unacceptable alternatives: let Peada die and be killed herself or restore him to health and continue to be subjected to his abuse. She decided that she’d rather be dead. But what really worried her was Penda’s intention of killing her father. She had to warn him and decided to take a risk, not knowing that he was already well aware of Penda’s perfidy.
~~~
Oswiu arrived at Eoforwīc only to find that Œthelwald was no longer there. However, there was a messenger sent by his daughter waiting for him. The boy was a servant of Peada’s but it wasn’t long before Oswiu came to the conclusion that the lad was in love with Alchflaed. It had to be the reason he’d readily agreed to steal a horse and ride in search of her father when she’d asked him.
The boy had tried Eoforwīc first and struck lucky. Oswiu appreciated the risk the lad had run and so didn’t tell him he was already aware of Penda’s treachery. He could hardly send the boy back to Cair Lerion, so he enrolled him in his own household as a servant for his chaplain. Conomultus protested that he didn’t need a servant, but he agreed to take him when the boy said that he would like to be trained as a priest. Oswiu smiled inwardly at that. At least he had the common sense to realise that his infatuation with his young queen couldn’t lead anywhere.
Œthelwald had apparently left for the south of Deira three days previously and from there he planned to head for Ledes, where Oswiu had just come from. He presumed his nephew was gathering his forces. Certainly the Eorl of Eoforwīc and his warband weren’t at the Deiran capital. The city was only guarded by old men and boys still in training.
‘This doesn’t look good,’ Ceadda said when they were alone.
‘No, we’re caught here whilst it seems my enemies gather to the south-west of us.’
‘What will you do?’
‘Fortunately there are birlinns and a few merchant ships moored down at the wharf. Send some men to seize them, we’ll sail back up to Bebbanburg and muster as many men as we can. Then we march to meet Penda. This time I intend to finish things. Within the month one of us will be dead and the other victorious.’
Oswiu sailed on the fastest birlinn and paid the captain a fat purse for making the voyage in a day and a half. The rest trailed in his wake. They had left the horses behind but there were plenty of others at Bebbanburg and at the breeding farm he kept a few miles away under Dunstan’s management.
As soon as he arrived he sent for Catinus. When he entered he nodded at the new captain of the king’s gesith, Godric, and at Ceadda, who were the only other men in the room.
‘Good. How many horses do you have available Catinus?’
‘Over two score, Cyning. I’ve started to teach….’ He started to explain his plan for mounted patrols but Oswiu held up his hand for silence.
‘Talk to Godric and decide who your best riders are. They are to carry a message from me to my eorls in Bernicia, Rheged and Goddodin. They are to bring their warbands and meet me at Ripon in two weeks’ time. They can call out the fyrd but I haven’t got time to wait for them. They can follow on later. Catinus you will bring the garrison from here. The local fyrd can man the fortress in your absence. How many men will that give us, Ceadda?’
The Hereræswa thought for a moment.
‘With the gesith, your warband and the garrison, a hundred and fifty from here; about the same number from the eorls of Bernicia; perhaps another three hundred from Goddodin and Rheged. Say six hundred.’
‘Penda will have at least three thousand, Cyning; many more if Deira and Gwynedd join him,’ Ceadda said, worried by the alarming disparity in numbers. ‘We should wait for the fyrd.’
‘I’m banking on the Deiran eorls stopping my perfidious nephew from joining the battle. As for Cadafael, I have another plan to prevent him from supporting Penda. I shall send the ships at Caer Luel to attack all along the coast of Gwynedd. With any luck, Cadafael will rush back to deal with the threat. By the time he gets there the ships will be back at Caer Luel and he’ll have mis
sed all the fun.’
~~~
When Oswiu arrived below the ridge overlooking the River Winwaed he rode forward with just Ceadda and Godric. Across the other side of the river he could make out five separate encampments. From the banners displayed, the large one in the centre was Penda’s Mercians with the Middle Angles on one side and the East Saxons on the other. Very near it was another group with a banner that Oswiu recognised as that of Æthelhere of East Anglia. A little distance away from the rest he saw the banner of Deira and his face flushed puce with rage.
There were a few clues that Œthelwald had been there a little time whilst the others had only arrived recently, the main one being the fact that Œthelwald’s men had sited themselves upstream so they had the clean water. Their camp also exhibited more of the detritus that warriors created: discarded animal bones, broken equipment, churned up mud and the like.
He was pleased to see that there was no sign of the Welsh as yet. Hopefully, the men of Rheged would have started their raids on Gwynedd by now and that word would reach Cadafael before he joined Penda.
He’d been grateful for the offer from the King of Wessex to join him but, in the end, he decided that speed was more important than numbers and Wessex was a long way away.
That night a band of picked archers, led by Catinus, crept across the river at a ford five miles to the east and made their way cautiously along the bank towards the camp of the East Anglians. In the middle of the night, when all was quiet, the archers lit fire arrows and sent them arcing into the sky to fall around and onto the roof of the large hut occupied by their king. The thatch was slow to catch, but when it did the roof quickly became a raging inferno and flaming embers dropped down onto the men sleeping below.
When the men inside ran outside to escape the flaming debris and the smoke they were silhouetted against the flames behind them and made perfect targets for Catinus’ archers. By now the whole camp was in uproar and the majority of the men who had been asleep in the open were on their feet arming themselves. Those who stood between the archers and the flaming hut joined those targeted by the bowmen. By the time that someone had taken charge and had realised where the arrows were coming from Catinus had ordered his men to withdraw.