The Fall of the House of Æthelfrith: Kings of Northumbria Book 5

by H A CULLEY

  The only problem was that their quivers were now nearly empty. They had perhaps halved the numbers of the enemy on the hillside and, just when the archers had run out of arrows, the Hibernians gave up and fled back down the hill.

  Meanwhile the attack on the shield wall had proved no more successful this time than last. The Northumbrians had suffered some fifty casualties but the damage inflicted on the Uí Néill was many times that number.

  As dark fell the Uí Néill withdrew and headed back up the valley. Stepan was tempted to charge after them and turn a retreat into a rout but Osfrid told him that they had done what they set out to do and it was now time to sail to Man and divide up the spoils. He nodded agreement and the weary Northumbrians trudged the last few miles down to the beach.

  It was only then that Osfrid realised that he was bleeding from several flesh wounds to his right arm and both legs. Once they were all safely aboard the fleet of knarrs he allowed Drefan to wash his wounds with sea water to cleanse them and to slow the flow of blood so that he could sew them up with catgut.

  Once he’d finished Osfrid noticed that Drefan had bound up his right bicep with a bloody cloth. He undid it to find a deep cut and, despite the youth’s protests, he insisted on washing, sewing and binding his wound himself. They were already close but the simple act of treating each other’s wounds had strengthened the bond between them.

  Chapter Twelve – The Battle of Dùn Nectain

  685 AD

  Osfrid had been depressed by the looting of monasteries and churches and the slaying of priests and monks but by the time that he and his men returned to Bebbanburg in early October 684 time had numbed his memories. Besides he was returning to the love of his life and a new born son that he hadn’t seen.

  The news of Eadwulf’s birth had reached him on Man and he and Alweo had got drunk together to celebrate. Even young Æthelbald had to be carried from the hall to his bed unconscious after imbibing too much. After that Osfrid was eager to be on his way home. He had taken his share of the spoils for distribution to his men but he had refused to take any religious artefacts and he had kept only enough for himself to defray his expenses.

  Eadwulf was a month old when he returned to his fortress sitting high on its crag above an angry, grey sea. Godwyna was delighted to have her husband back but he immediately noticed that she was somewhat withdrawn and clearly unhappy about something. That night in bed, after they had made love twice, he asked her what was troubling her and she burst into tears.

  ‘The old woman who attended me for Eadwulf’s birth claimed to be something of a seer. What she told me about Eadwulf is dangerous.’

  ‘Dangerous? How? Has our son some deformity or sickness?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. It’s what she said about his destiny. She said that he’d be King of Northumbria one day.’

  ‘How can that be? You may have the blood of the Ida in your veins but my father was a Briton and my mother a thegn’s daughter. The woman was rambling, nothing more.’

  ‘But Ecgfrith has no children so his line may become extinct. If so my father would be one of those considered by the Witan.’

  ‘Your father, yes, and you have a brother. We are not like the Picts who trace descent through the matriarchal line. In any case Ecgfrith is young yet, and he has a half-brother, Aldfrith. She was rambling, forget her.’

  Osfrid’s words reassured her but the old woman’s prophesy remained at the back of her mind.

  Their domestic bliss was short lived. Osfrid was summoned to a meeting of the Witan at Jarrow just a week after his return. At first he thought it was to discuss the campaign in Hibernia but he was soon to find out that, although that was part of the reason, more serious matters were afoot.

  ~~~

  Cuthbert and the other bishops had accompanied Ecgfrith from Eoforwīc to Jarrow after the former’s consecration as a bishop by Archbishop Theodore. Osfrid sensed that all was not well when he arrived at his father-in-law’s hall. He was accompanied by Godwyna and baby Eadwulf so that she could visit her family and show off her son. After the initial greetings were over her father took him to one side.

  ‘The bishops and abbots are unhappy with Ecgfrith, especially Cuthbert, and they are scarcely on speaking terms now.’

  ‘Why? What’s happened?’

  ‘Your wretched campaign in Brega is what’s happened. The churchmen are incensed by the looting of religious houses and the slaying of priests and monks. What on earth possessed you to do such a thing? They want you arrested and tried.’

  ‘But I tried to stop it! It’s Stepan and the Manxmen who are to blame, not me.’

  ‘Ecgfrith has no control over Alweo and his men and Stepan is far away in Cumbria. You are here and it’s you who will have to answer for the crimes of sacrilege and murder.’

  ‘I’m innocent, as Uurad and Sigmund can testify.’

  ‘They are your men; they won’t be believed.’

  ‘Then the king must send for Stepan.’

  ‘He has other things on his mind. Bruide and his Picts have invaded Strathearn and Fife and driven out our people. He is determined to recover them and teach Bruide a lesson.’

  ‘So am I to be denied a fair hearing?’

  ‘We shall have to wait and see. In the meantime I’m to ensure that you remain here until the meeting of the Witan.’

  Ecgfrith looked around the hall where the Witan was meeting. He was seated in front of the altar whilst the bishops, abbots, ealdormen and the two remaining eorls were crammed into the nave. There was scarcely standing room for them all.

  ‘As you know we are meeting here to discuss the breaking of the treaty with the Picts by Bruide. However, before we can do that there is one matter than I need to resolve first. Bishop Cuthbert can you please outline what happened during our recent campaign against Fínsnechta of Brega; briefly if you would.’

  ‘Cyning, the campaign was ill conceived and recklessly executed. Churches and monasteries were looted and burnt and priests and monks were slaughtered. Such conduct is unforgivable. As the instigator of this atrocity you cannot be held entirely blameless but the main guilt lies with those who perpetrated such crimes – Stepan and Osfrid.’

  ‘Cuthbert, you are held in high regard but you choose your words unwisely. I could not have anticipated the rapine of church property or the slaughter of churchmen. The fault lies with those who were there. Stepan step forward.’

  ‘Cyning, Ealdorman Stepan isn’t present. He has sent word that it is too far for him to come in view of the fact that he needs to muster his men to meet you in the north prior to your campaign against the Picts.’

  ‘Then we will have to hear his testimony another time. However Ealdorman Osfrid is here. What do you have to say in your defence?’

  ‘Thank you Cyning,’ Osfrid said after he’d managed to shoulder his way through the throng to stand before the king. ‘I was indeed there and I was as appalled as anyone here at the treatment meted out to the Celtic Church by the Cumbrians and the Manxmen. I protested against such behaviour and urged restraint on Stepan and the Alweo’s chieftains. However, I was ignored. I ordered my men not to participate in the sacking of churches and monasteries and I was obeyed. I took no part in the division of the loot belonging to the Church after the campaign and I hold myself entirely blameless in the matter. You need to talk to Stepan, not me.’

  ‘Do you have witnesses as to the veracity of what you claim?’

  ‘Yes, Cyning. Uurad, the commander of my warband, and Sigmund, the leader of my gesith, or any of my men, will attest to the truth of what I have said.’

  ‘Of course they would,’ one of the other ealdormen called out. ‘They are your men.’

  ‘Nevertheless they were there and you were not!’ Osfrid replied heatedly. ‘Cyning I protest against this treatment of me as if I had done wrong. I have done nothing I am ashamed of. How was I to stop what was happening? I had fifty warriors; Breht was in command and had ten times my number; the Manxmen likewise.�
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  ‘Lack of numbers is no excuse for allowing sacrilege to take place,’ Cuthbert said angrily.

  ‘Really? You were once a warrior, Cuthbert. What would you have done differently?’

  This time it was Conomultus who spoke. He was there as the representative of Eochaid of Alnwic. He pushed his way forward to stand beside his nephew.

  ‘What no-one has said is how Osfrid saved the expedition from disaster. Stepan delayed too long before retreating to his ships. The Uí Néill had raised a fresh army from their tribesmen in the north which outnumbered Stepan’s army two to one. It was Osfrid who took command when Stepan panicked and fought a running battle with the Hibernians so that our army could escape. Instead of castigating him you should be congratulating him. He should be rewarded, not punished.’

  ‘You yourself said that Osfrid took command at the end. Why then did he not return the loot from the churches instead of allowing Stepan and the Maxmen to escape with it?’ Bosa asked.

  ‘Because I was too busy trying to save the lives of our army. What did you expect me to do, bishop? Halt the convoy in the face of the enemy and sort through it to take out the property of the church? In any case, I was given the task of delaying the enemy, not command; that remained with Stepan throughout. As my uncle says, it is the Ealdorman of Cumbria you need to talk to.’

  Cuthbert was about to say something else but Ecgfrith held up his hand.

  ‘Enough. We have more important things to discuss. This will have to wait until both Osfrid and Stepan can be present to answer for their actions. I will also write to King Alweo to ask for his account.

  ‘Osfrid, you are not yet found to be at fault but you cannot continue as my Master of Horse until this is resolved. I will appoint another to take on that role for the coming war against the Picts; however, I will need your mounted warband to act as my scouts. Similarly they cannot be commanded by your man Uurad. He is to remain with you and your gesith at Bebbanburg. After the Picts have been defeated the Witan will meet again at Yeavering to hear the case against you and against Stepan.’

  ‘Very well, Cyning. I am disappointed that you cannot trust my word but I look forward to clearing my name at Yeavering. I assume that Stepan will similarly be excluded from your army?’

  The king was taken off guard. He needed the Cumbrians as they would make up a significant part of his army. The new settlers in the land from which most of the Britons had been driven were a motley bunch of Angles, Saxons, Jutes and even some Frisians and Scots from Dalriada. Loyalty to Stepan was the one thing that united them.

  ‘That will be all, Osfrid. I need not detain you any longer.’

  Judging by the king’s red face he had at least managed to embarrass him. If only Ecgfrith had allowed Osfrid to command his scouts the outcome of the war might have been very different.

  ~~~

  Ecgfrith was not feeling as confident as he might have done when he arrived with his army at Dùn Èideann, the fortress of Beornheth, Eorl of Lothian. When Stepan had joined him with his Cumbrians he had an army of three thousand men. Against that he was told that Bruide had a similar number of Picts but, as Elfin of Strathclyde and Mael Diun of Dalraida had both refused his invitation to join him he wondered about their loyalty. If they decided to join Bruide he would be significantly outnumbered.

  During the years since coming to the throne after the defeat of the Picts by Ecgfrith in 671, Bruide had changed the role of the high king to that of ruler of the whole of Pictland. Now it was an established kingdom. Not only that but he’d expanded his domain, firstly to include Cait in the north, and then he’d travelled across the sea to capture the islands off the north coast known as the Orcades.

  However, it wasn’t his opponent that bothered him. It was Cuthbert’s dire prophecy that the campaign was doomed. Thankfully no-one else had heard Cuthbert’s words or the morale of the whole army might have suffered, such was the Bishop of Lindisfarne’s reputation.

  Towards the end of May Ecgfrith set out along the south bank of the Firth of Forth in glorious weather. Whilst the absence of rain might have been a blessing, marching all day under a hot sun was not and quite a number of men began to suffer from heat stroke. Eventually Ecgfrith had to call a halt early at Blach Ness. It took him three more days to reach Stirling where, thankfully, the weather broke and it started to rain.

  All armies at the time carried only a few day’s provisions with them in the baggage train. They relied on foraging to eat, but there were no livestock to be had, nor were there any vegetables or harvested crops left in the farms or the settlements. Like the people, it had all vanished.

  There was an eerie silence as they approached Stirling. They found the settlement around the fortress deserted and the gates to the latter stood wide open. By now provisions were running low and the army feasted that night on stray dogs, cats and rats that they caught amongst the huts and hovels of Stirling.

  They had more luck in Strathallan over the next few days as forage parties came back with deer, boar and even the odd wolf. For warriors more used to a diet of vegetables and cereal such protein rich food had a detrimental effect on their digestion and they were forever running off to squat away from the road.

  The absence of any Picts was beginning to unnerve everyone. Ecgfrith and his commanders couldn’t understand why Bruide didn’t try and defend his kingdom. All they saw of the Picts was the odd warrior on a small pony on the skyline. Then the forage parties started to disappear and Ecgfrith had to send them out in increasing strength.

  His scouts also started to vanish. After a week there were only half of Osfrid’s original warband of fifty left and they were increasingly nervous of going too far from the main body.

  Eventually they came to the head of the Firth of Tay and they crossed the rivers that fed into it one by one until they came to the River Tay. There were no fords across it this far downriver, but there was a wooden bridge just north of the confluence with the River Isla. Now the Northumbrians saw their first Picts; a force of about a thousand was holding the far side of the bridge.

  The Picts were in no sort of formation. They danced to and fro yelling insults at the Northumbrians and brandishing their weapons and small round shields. Ecgfrith smiled to himself. This was too easy. He sent his archers forward and they sent volley after volley into the packed ranks of their foes. With no armour, their shields did little to protect them and several scores fell dead or wounded. The Picts took a little while to realise what was happening and then they hurried to get out of range.

  As soon as they withdrew from the other side of the bridge Ecgfrith sent his warriors across. They spread out on the other side to form a shield wall just as the Picts launched an attack. There was no formation to it. They ran at the Northumbrians screaming insults in a disorganised mass. A few even managed to leap in the air and land several rows deep into the Northumbrians. They were quickly killed, but not before they had taken several men with them.

  A hundred Picts died trying to break through the shield wall but far fewer of Ecgfrith’s men were killed. When the horsemen clattered over the bridge and swept around to take the Picts in the flank they broke and ran. Had Osfrid been there to restrain them they might not have chased after the fleeing Picts. As it was they managed to cut down a score or so before a large group of the Picts turned and faced them.

  Against several hundred the fifty horsemen didn’t stand much of a chance. Their horses were speared and the riders were killed as they lay on the ground or else they were pulled from their mounts and then stabbed to death. Less than thirty made it safely back to the main body.

  Ecgfrith continued his march down Strath Mor, fording the smaller river that ran down part of the glen where it turned up into the hills to the north. They camped that night on the other side of the ford and the king set double sentries, fearing a night attack. It didn’t come but Ecgfrith awoke the next day to find that it had started raining in the night and it was still coming down hard.

 
He sent his scouts out but they couldn’t see far in the gloom and the rain so they stuck close to the column.

  ‘Are we wise to stray so far into Pictland,’ Octa asked him at one stage.

  ‘They flee before us; they fear us, and rightly so. I’m determined to bring them to battle so that I can convince them once and for all who is Bretwalda of the North. ‘

  His hereræswa looked far from convinced.

  ‘Cyning, bretwalda was title that the Caledonian kings bestowed on Oswiu because they respected him and they acknowledged him as their leader. It’s not something you can impose on them.’

  ‘Are you saying that they don’t respect me? Didn’t Bruide make himself King of the Picts through force? ‘

  ‘Yes but he was born a Pict. He is one of them. Your father used diplomacy, bribery and threats and only resorted to force when he had to.’

  Ecgfrith looked at the rain streaming down Octa’s face for a minute, then shrugged.

  ‘Well, it’s a little late for diplomacy now. Besides, it wouldn’t have worked on Bruide; he only understands force.’

  They camped that night beside a small lake. Beyond the lake were wetlands – a whole series of small lakes and ponds connected by small streams. The ground was boggy and Ecgfrith was pleased by this; it protected his flank.

  When he awoke in the morning it was to a bright, sunny day. The rain of yesterday was merely an unpleasant memory. Now he could see further. To the south there was a range of low hills. On the top of the highest sat a small fortress, a circular palisade with a watchtower in the middle.

  Octa sent half a dozen horsemen to see if the fortress was occupied and another small group to scout the glen to the east. When neither party had reappeared after an hour he began to get worried. He had just warned the camp to arm themselves when the Picts appeared.