by H A CULLEY
The other body of Picts, seeing their comrades’ plight, started to cross the river to go to their aid. That was when Alweo’s horsemen charged into their right flank. They speared as many as they could before the Picts recovered and started to form a line facing them. The horsemen disengaged and then charged again, this time throwing their spears at the Picts and wheeling away.
Suddenly a horn blared forth over the noise of battle and the Picts started to disengage, running away to the north-east where the glen joined Strathearn. Ecgfrith had won an easy victory and he could have sent his men to chase the fleeing enemy, but dusk was approaching and it got dark quickly in the mountains.
Alweo looked for Catinus to congratulate him on the success of his plan but he couldn’t see him. Then he spotted a group of men clustered around someone lying on the ground. It wasn’t until he recognised the crowd gathered around the casualty that he became worried. They were all members of Catinus’ gesith.
His friend had been hit by two arrows: one in the shoulder and one in the thigh. The former didn’t look too serious but the thigh wound was bleeding copiously. It was only then that he realised that the arrows were not the type used by the Picts, who only had hunting bows. These were longer arrows that must have come from a war bow. It meant someone on their own side had tried to kill his friend.
~~~
Catinus gritted his teeth as the wounds in his shoulder and leg were dealt with. Both arrows had barbed heads which had to be cut out. Luckily the one in his leg had cut a vein rather than an artery but he had still lost quite a lot of blood before one of the infirmarians travelling with the army was brought to tend to him.
He was already feeling faint with the pain and, when the wounds were cauterised with a hot iron, he passed out. When he awoke the next morning he found the monk who had treated him examining his wounds.
‘The wounds appear to be clean. You may limp when you recover but otherwise it’s just a question of time. I’ll get you a place on one of the waggons taking the other wounded back to Stirling.’
‘You’ll do nothing of the sort,’ Catinus yelled at him. ‘Get me my horse, I need to catch up with the army.’
Alweo had to leave him when Ecgfrith continued his advance at dawn but his gesith had stayed on the assumption that they would escort him and the convoy of casualties back down the glen.
‘You are in no fit state to ride, lord,’ the monk told him.
‘Why? I don’t need my leg to ride, or my shoulder, if my horse is led. Drefan, do as you’re told boy; go and get my horse and tell Eadstan that we’re leaving.’
‘Yes lord.’
‘You’re too weak. If you try to ride you’ll fall off.’
‘Then one of my men can ride either side of me and make sure that I don’t.’
‘Well, if you won’t listen to my advice I can’t stop you being an idiot. Good day to you, lord.’
The first problem was getting him up on his horse. Eventually they made a seat from a log and some rope and hoisted him up using the branch of a nearby tree. He grimaced in pain and some blood seeped through the bandage on his thigh, but it wasn’t until the horse started to walk that he realised that it just wasn’t possible for him to ride very far. Eventually he had to settle for sitting in a small cart.
Meanwhile the rest of the army had reached the River Earn and had turned eastwards along the south bank. They were following a trail of abandoned equipment and Picts wounded on the previous day who had either been too weak to continue or who had died along the way. This trail led Alweo and his vanguard to a ford over the Earn.
‘They must be trying to escape along the west bank of the River Tay into the mountains,’ Redwald said when Alweo told Ecgfrith about the ford. ‘Cyning, if we send Alweo and his men north to hold the crossing over the River Almond the Picts will be forced to turn back. We can then trap them on the peninsular where the Earn enters the Firth of Tay.’
Neither Alweo nor Ecgfrith knew the geography of the area as well as Redwald evidently did, so he impatiently sketched a rough map in the earth with his sword.
‘Here’s where the Firth of Tay narrows and becomes the River Tay. The Earn enters the Tay at that point. Between the two rivers there is a triangular tongue of land about two miles wide narrowing down to a point at the junction. There is a small hill running east west which slopes down to the river on each side. If we can bottle up the Picts in this area we can annihilate them, especially if we can capture the high ground. But we need to act quickly or they’ll get away.’
Alweo arrived at the ford over the Almond a few miles north of the River Earn and saw Picts streaming across it. However, only a few hundred had already crossed, judging by the numbers on the open plain to the north. Each of his men were riding double with an archer clinging on for dear life behind them. They charged across the ford, scattering the fleeing Picts and then turned and dismounted. His men formed a shield wall to hold the crossing whilst the archers strung their bows and sent several volleys into the packed mass of Picts now forming on the southern side of the ford.
The Picts significantly outnumbered the Northumbrians and, had they wanted to, they could have easily forced the crossing. But they were tired, dispirited and disorganised. They chose the path of least resistance instead and retreated back the way they had come. Those coming up behind them saw them retreating and, on being told that their enemies were holding the ford, also turned back.
Alweo harried them all the way to the Earn and, after they’d crossed onto the south bank, they found the Northumbrian army drawn up to the west of them. Rather than face them, they turned and headed east into the triangle formed by the Tay and the Earn.
Many were aware that they were being herded into a spit of land with no escape but their warnings went unheeded and they were swept along with the rest. King Drest finally managed to restore some form of order to his army once they could retreat no further and his men were hectored and bullied into a rough formation across the gap between the two rivers by their leaders. Unfortunately for the Picts, they had gone beyond the low hill onto the flat ground beyond and Ecgfrith was able to send his men to secure the hill.
It was now late in the day and Ecgfrith was anxious to finish this before his foes had the opportunity to use the darkness to escape. He sent his archers forward to fire into the Picts. Many of the latter had thrown away their shields during their flight and so had nothing with which to protect themselves. Most arrows therefore scored a hit and the more casualties they suffered, the more enraged the Picts became.
Finally their discipline broke and they charged forward in a disorganised mass to be met by an unyielding shield wall. Many more died in that reckless charge and, when they withdrew to reform, the Northumbrians advanced, pushing them backwards into the narrowing spit of land.
Some tried to escape by swimming across one of the two rivers and were swept away into the firth and drowned. The fight went out of the Picts and they started to surrender. Soon it was all over. There were over a thousand casualties amongst the Picts, as opposed to just a few hundred on the other side, and there were six hundred captives. One of the dead was Drest, High King of the Picts.
Redwald felt elated at their success and was being praised by Ecgfrith when Alweo arrived with a thunderous look on his face. His men held two archers between them who were struggling to get away.
‘Cyning, you will be well aware that Ealdorman Catinus was badly wounded by two arrows during yesterday’s battle. Those arrows came from our own archers. These two wretches to be precise. Several other archers saw them deliberately aim at Catinus and will swear to it.’
Ecgfrith looked as if someone had slapped him in the face.
‘Our own men? Why would they do such a thing?’
‘Because they were paid to do it.’
‘Who would want to try and kill Catinus?’
‘First, Cyning, ask whose men they are.’
The blood had drained from Redwald’s face when Alweo had arri
ved with the two archers in tow but now he spoke up.
‘If they were paid, it doesn’t matter whose men they are, anyone could have bribed them.’
‘You say that, Redwald, because they are your men.’
‘Is this true?’ Ecgfrith looked stunned.
‘Catinus is no better than a serf and a Briton to boot. He has no right to be an ealdorman and be telling his betters what to do.’
‘So you ordered him killed.’
‘No, Cyning. They are good archers. They were told to wound him only, which is what they did.’
‘The infirmarian saved his life. He would have died otherwise,’ Alweo spluttered.
‘It’s not the point. You ordered your men to wound or kill another noble. The rest is irrelevant.’
Ecgfrith had a steely glint in his eye that Alweo hadn’t seen before.
‘As of now you are no longer my hereræswa and you will be deprived of your lands and property. You and your family will go into exile. You have three weeks to make the necessary arrangements.’
Redwald’s jaw dropped open in disbelief.
‘I have served you faithfully, and your father before you, for many years. You cannot do this to me.’
‘I’ve just done it. And you will pay Catinus weregeld for his injuries.’
‘Never!’
Redwald went to draw his sword but Alweo was too quick for him. As the hereræswa’s hand grasped the hilt, the point of Alweo’s seax ripped through the chainmail covering the man’s belly and cut into his guts. Redwald collapsed onto the floor frantically trying to hold his intestines in place. It was no use; he would be dead in less than twenty minutes but his scream of agony brought men running to where he lay. Ecgfrith realised it was a dangerous situation. Redwald had been their commander for years and he was well liked.
‘Redwald is a traitor,’ he cried holding up his hands. ‘He tried to kill me and Alweo saved me.’
‘Why would he try and kill you, Cyning,’ a man called out, voicing what many others were thinking.
‘Because he paid these men to kill Ealdorman Catinus and, when I banished him, he went to draw his sword to attack me, an offence punishable by death. These men will attest to Redwald’s guilt.’
‘You will or you’ll hang for sure,’ Alweo whispered to them.
‘It’s true. Redwald paid us to kill Catinus.’
‘Why?’
‘No one seems to know; perhaps Catinus offended him in some way.’
‘Who killed Redwald, Cyning?’ another man asked.
‘Ealdorman Alweo saved me.’
At that there was an angry buzz in the crowd. Alweo was popular with his own men but others, especially the older warriors, tended to remember that he was born a Mercian ætheling and that his father had been the hated Penda’s brother.
Beornheth, Eorl of Lothian, stepped forward and looked down at the writhing Redwald.
‘Cyning, the rogue is in his death throes. It little behoves us to prolong his agony needlessly. May I end it?’
‘Thank you, Beornheth, I would be grateful.’
He drew his sword and thrust it into Redwald’s neck. The former hereræswa twitched once and lay still. A sigh of relief went up from the watching crowd.
Several other eorls and ealdormen had forced their way through the crowd and now surrounded the young king.
‘Cyning, no one doubts that Redwald deserved punishment for his actions and we would have supported his banishment, but did he deserve to die?’ Beornheth asked. ‘He hadn’t actually drawn his sword, if I have understood matters correctly. Why didn’t Alweo prevent him from doing so, if necessary by threatening him with his seax? Did he need to use it? Furthermore, he drew a weapon in your presence, which is forbidden.’
‘I acted to save the king’s life,’ Alweo responded heatedly. ‘If I’d waited to assess the necessity or otherwise of my actions King Ecgfrith would have been dead.’
‘Stop!’ The king’s voice drowned out what was about to become a general argument with others joining in on one side or the other. ‘We will continue this in my tent later when all eorls and ealdormen are present to form the Witan.’
Catinus limped into the tent leaning on a hastily made crutch. His bandaged shoulder and thigh were an eloquent testimony to the perfidy of Redwald. Many still didn’t like the fact that he was not born a noble, or even an Anglo-Saxon, but they grudgingly admitted that he was a skilful military commander and had faithfully served Northumbria for nearly all his life.
The debate about Alweo’s action in slaying Redwald was heated but the upshot was that Alweo was exiled. It was decision that Catinus took badly and he and Alweo took a ship back to Bebbanburg as soon as they could, leaving their men to make their way home overland. From Bebbanburg Alweo rode back to his home; a week later he, his wife and their baby son Æthelbald left with a few servants and those members of his gesith who had decided to continue to serve him and travelled to Towcester where he hoped to find his cousin, King Wulfhere of Mercia.
He wasn’t sure of the welcome he would receive but he had no alternative.
Chapter Three – Æthelthryth
672 AD
Ecgfrith stayed in the Land of the Picts for the next three months. He annexed the former kingdoms of Hyddir, Pobla and Uuynnid and created two new eorldoms out of them, which he called Strathearn and Fife. He now had a buffer zone between Northumbria and the rest of the Land of the Picts. Elfin was also pleased as Strathearn also separated his kingdom from that of the Picts.
The one regret that Ecgfrith had was that Bruide had escaped and he had now managed to get himself recognised, not as High King, but as King of a single Kingdom of the Picts. In truth, there were no monarchs left to contest his rule over what had been Ardewr, Penntir and Prydenn. Only Cait in the north remained outside his control and its king seemed content to ignore what was happening in the south.
Details took time to trickle down to Eoforwīc, Ecgfrith’s capital. Over time it emerged that Bruide had consolidated his control over the former three kingdoms of Ardewr, Penntir and Prydenn by dividing them into four regions, each governed by an eorl, except that wasn’t the title the Picts used. They called them mormaers. The regions were called Atholl, Moray, Buchan and Angus. It was a clever move. It would be difficult now for anyone to claim the throne of one of the old kingdoms as it didn’t exist anymore.
After the Battle of the Two Rivers, as the defeat of the Picts on the land between the Tay and the Earn was being called, Ecgfrith had needed to make two new appointments; that of hereræswa and master of horse. He would have liked to make Catinus the former. He was a good commander and tactician but, even if he wasn’t still recovering from his wounds, such an appointment would never be acceptable to the Witan. He therefore decided on Beornheth, the Eorl of Lothian.
Catinus would have been the obvious choice as master of horse too if it wasn’t for his wounds. In the end his choice fell on Ruaidhrí. He also made him an ealdorman and gave him Alweo’s old territory. Although he was a Hibernian, he was a prince and he was a popular choice.
The one problem the king was left with, at least for now, was his wife. Æthelthryth continued to spend more time in the monastery at Threekingham in her native East Anglia than she did at Eoforwīc. Even when she was with him she continued to refuse to allow him to sleep with her as husband and wife. This frustrated Ecgfrith beyond endurance, both because she was attractive and he desired her and because he needed an heir.
‘Wilfrid, I insist you convince Æthelthryth that it is her Christian duty to lie with her husband. How can we have children if she doesn’t? My patience is wearing extremely thin.’
The two men were sitting in Ecgfrith’s private chamber in the king’s hall at Eoforwīc. This had been extended since the new king had come to the throne and contained a small office as well as a sleeping room. It was in the office that they now sat with a brazier under the one window to take the chill off the bitter February air. The room had been designed b
etter than most of its type. The window faced south so that the prevailing easterly wind sucked most of the smoke out of the room.
‘I will do my best, Cyning, but the queen is very devout and sees fornication with anyone, including her husband, as a sin,’ the Bishop of Northumbria replied.
‘Well, it’s up to you to convince her otherwise.’
Privately Wilfrid thought that, even if by some miracle he did persuade Æthelthryth to sleep with Ecgfrith, he wouldn’t be able to sire an heir. He’d been having an affair with a girl called Eormenburg for a couple of years now and there was no sign of her getting pregnant.
‘Very well, Cyning. I will travel to Threekingham and see what I can do.’
‘You can tell her that, if she fails to return to me and carry out her proper duties as my wife, she must become a nun so that I can remarry.’
~~~
‘That’s what he said?’
‘Yes, Síþwíf. Exactly that.’
‘If I were to become a nun I would only do so as an abbess; that would mean that Ecgfrith would have to pay for me to found a new monastery.’
‘I see. Where would you want this monastery to be?’
‘At Ely in the Fens. Half the people there are still pagans and I would make it my life’s work to convert them.’
Wilfrid returned to Eoforwīc only to find that Ecgfrith was no longer there. He’d gone to Bebbanburg to visit Catinus before travelling on to Dùn Èideann to see his new hereræswa, Beornheth.
The bishop sighed. He disliked the discomfort associated with riding a horse everywhere and had debated whether to obtain a cart fitted with padded seats in which to travel. However, he feared that it would make him a laughing stock; only women and young children used such carts. He consoled himself with the thought that, if he rode north to see the king, he would be able to visit his monastery at Hexham on the return journey and check for himself how the building work was progressing.