by H A CULLEY
‘Thank you Eadfrith, that is most helpful.’
‘Pardon, bishop, but I hadn’t quite finished. Whether this Witan has been properly convened is another matter entirely. Even if it was, I suggest that the proper course of action is for you to adjourn it – possibly to a more suitable location – until more nobles and the three æthelings I mentioned can be present.’
‘No,’ Eadwulf thundered, hitting the table in front of Bishop John with his first. ‘This matter will be decided today, before we have the Picts swarming over our border to the north and Coenred and his Mercians plundering Deira.’
‘I’ll not be part of this farce,’ Eochaid said angrily and made for the door but several of Eadwulf’s men stepped in front of him to bar his way out.
Seeing this, Heartbehrt, who had accompanied his lord to the meeting, gave a piercing whistle and Swefred and several other members of the Alnwic warband stepped through the doorway and held the points of their swords against the necks of Eadwulf’s Frisians.
‘Stand aside. I don’t want bloodshed to mar a Witan, even if it is an illegal one like this is,’ Eochaid ordered.
Unwillingly the Frisians did as they were told and Eochaid left, followed by his men. However, Swefred couldn’t resist a Parthian shot – so called because they were famed for firing one last arrow at their foes as they rode away.
‘Father always said you’d come to a bad end, brother. It looks as if you’re just about to prove him correct.’
~~~
‘Give me fifty men and I’ll take Bebbanburg for you,’ Swefred said breathlessly to Eochaid as the Alnwic contingent cantered away from Yeavering.
Eochaid couldn’t see the point of pursuit; after all, without his opposition he was certain that Eadwulf would be elected king. Nevertheless, he didn’t trust the man and he wanted to put as much distance between them as possible.
‘I thought it was impregnable?’
‘It is normally, but my brother has foolishly taken all his Frisians and most of the rest of the garrison to Yeavering. Few will be left to man the fortress. I should be able to trick my way in, and even if I can’t I know a secret entrance that I found as a small boy.’
‘Why do you need my men then?’
‘To keep my brother out once he discovers he’s lost his precious fortress. That should give you time to raise an army to deal with him and the Lothians.’
‘How will you trick your way in?’
Swefred pulled a cloth from the bag hanging from his saddle.
‘Using this.’
At dawn the next day a contingent of men rode towards Bebbanburg under the wolf’s head banner that had been adopted by Catinus when he’d been appointed as the first Ealdorman. Without wondering too much why their master had returned so quickly the sentries swung the main gates open and Swefred and his borrowed men rode in.
He held his breath until they had passed the second gate and rode onto the grassy knoll where the lord’s hall stood.
‘My lord, we didn’t expect you back ....’
The reeve’s words faded away as Swefred pulled off his helmet which, like his brother’s and many Anglo-Saxons who could afford one, had a visor fixed in place which protected the eyes and nose.
Unlike Morcar, the reeve in his father’s day, this man was fat and balding. He had a goblet of mead in one hand and, judging from the grease in his beard, he had been in the process of tucking into a hearty meal.
‘Who are you?’
‘Your new lord. Where is the captain of the garrison?’
‘New lord?’
‘My name is Swefred, Eadwulf’s younger brother. Now where is the ...’
At that moment a red faced man came running up followed by a score of armed men, mostly old men and boys – presumably those under training.
‘Disarm them,’ Swefred ordered calmly.
His men surrounded the new arrivals and the elderly warriors – the ones with sense – lowered their weapons but some of the boys decided to try their luck. One lunged at Heartbehrt who batted his spear aside with his shield. Before the youth had time to recover Heartbehrt punched him in the chest with the boss of his shield. The assailant fell onto his bottom, dropping his spear, much to the amusement of Heartbehrt’s men.
Only one boy, more obstinate than the rest, was wounded in the brief encounter and ten minutes later the former garrison were expelled from the fortress, together with the reeve and those servants who professed a loyalty to Eadwulf. Swefred then took Heartbehrt and two of his senior warriors on a tour of the fortress, explaining how the second gate, which turned the entrance into a death trap, worked.
He also showed them the chute down which rubbish was thrown to end up on the beach. From there the high tide would carry it away. The inner end was only protected by a wooden trap door, so Heartbehrt suggested that the blacksmith should make a metal grille with a lock in order to prevent an enemy from using the chute as a means of entry.
‘Would you really have climbed up that filthy chute if you hadn’t managed to trick your way in?’
‘Why not? It was a trick my grandfather used to good effect,’ Swefred replied.
‘Not here?’
‘No, to capture Dùn Breatainn in Strathclyde.’
‘Really? I was told it’s impregnable.’
‘Well, it’s fallen twice to my certain knowledge.’
Once they had distributed barrels of arrows around the walls and prepared a deadly welcome along the stretch of enclosed roadway behind the main gate, Swefred and his men waited for the inevitable attack.
Three days later Eadwulf’s army appeared from the west. Swefred and Heartbehrt climbed to the top of the watchtower to join the sentry who had sounded the alarm.
‘There’s hundreds of them,’ the man said in awe.
‘Don’t worry. The Ætheling Alchfrith brought hundreds against Bebbanburg thirty five years ago,’ Swefred told him.
‘What happened?’
‘Most of them are still here.’
‘What? Where?’ the sentry asked, crossing himself as if he expected them to suddenly appear.
‘Under the ground over there.’
‘How many do you think there are?’ Swefred asked Heartbehrt.
‘His eyes are better than mine,’ he replied, gesturing towards the sentry.
‘Well, I can see eight banners, lord. There’s about a hundred horsemen in the lead and then a mass of infantry but it’s difficult to estimate how many.’
‘How long is the column?’
‘Perhaps five or six hundred yards, that is before the baggage train starts.’
‘And how many warriors can you see in the front rank?’
‘Perhaps six abreast, but they’re milling about a bit.’
‘Well done lad. That gives me a rough idea.’
The sentry blushed with pleasure at the praise.
‘I think my dear brother has managed to amass an army up to three thousand strong. Not bad in three days.’
‘He must have been preparing for this to have mustered so many so quickly; not necessarily for the siege of Bebbanburg, but the need to fight for the throne he’s usurped.’
As the enemy drew closer, Swefred could make out the banners.
‘It seems that Eadwulf has enlisted the support of Cumbria, Otterburn and Hexham in addition to the four shires in Lothian and his own men.’
‘That’s only eight shires, including this one. There are another ten in the kingdom, most of them more densely populated than the ones in the north.’
‘Yes, but they are wide spread and it will take some time to muster their fyrds and then march here. We must expect a long siege,’ Swefred said gloomily. ‘Thank goodness Eadwulf laid in supplies to last him and his men through the winter.’
~~~
Eochaid was wondering if sending his captain with Swefred had been such a good idea. Only now, when he was faced with raising an army to support Osred, did he realise how much he had come to depend on his quiet effi
ciency and common sense.
He started by sending messengers to the leading churchmen to enlist their support – not only the three bishops but the abbots as well, including Wilfrid at Ripon. Another man took a letter to Cenred. He might only be a thane but even he had a better claim to the throne than Eadwulf had. He was certain that he wouldn’t want to see a usurper prevail. For one thing they tended to get rid of all their potential rivals to stifle potential opposition.
Cenred’s vill lay in the shire of Durham and Eochaid hoped that he could persuade his ealdorman to side with Osred. Messengers were sent to Jarrow and Catterick and to four of the five shires in Deira, but he decided to travel to Eoforwīc himself.
Having sent his warband and a few of his gesith with Swefred he could only afford to take five men with him after leaving enough to guard his hall and his family. Being so few and travelling light they covered over forty miles each day, setting out at dawn and stopping just before dusk. On two nights they managed to stay at a monastery but on the other they had to camp.
Without tents, they were lucky enough to find an overhanging rock which gave them some protection from the rain that started at midnight. However, when they set off again they soon got soaked in the downpour. The rain made them miserable and they kept their heads down inside their hoods as they plodded on. Suddenly half a dozen horsemen materialised in front of them and the same number rode out of the trees behind them. Being winter, they would have seen them amongst the denuded trees had they been alert.
‘Who are you and where are you headed?’ a man in a helmet with a nasal barked at them.
‘Edmond, don’t you recognise me?’ Eochaid asked as he pushed back his hood.
‘Eochaid? What are you doing so far south?’
‘You’ve heard about Eadwulf?’
‘Usurping the throne? Yes, that’s why I’m on my way to Catterick.’ He paused as a thought crossed his mind. ‘Do you support Osred as the true king?’
‘Once he’s properly elected by the full Witan, and not that stunted version that Eadwulf got to accept him, yes.’
‘Good. The Deiran ealdormen are mustering there.’
‘Where are your men then? This can only be your gesith.’
‘It’s taking time to mobilise the fyrd so they and my warband are following on. Do you know how many men Eadwulf has?’
Eochaid nodded. ‘I can’t be specific because the messenger left before the siege started but Swefred thought he had about three thousand or so.’
‘That’s more than we thought. Perhaps Luncæstershire have joined him as well.’
Eochaid shook his head.
‘I don’t think so. The message listed the banners Swefred had seen. That of Cumbria was there but not Luncæstershire.’
‘Then I don’t know how he has raised so many men so quickly.’
‘Perhaps he’s enlisted the aid of the Picts or maybe Beli of Strathclyde is supporting him?’
‘Possibly. In which case I wonder what he’s promised them in return.’
~~~
Swefred stood on the battlements of Bebbanburg looking down at the enemy camp on the west side of the fortress. They had taken over the thegn’s hall and the huts of the local people and put up numerous tents as well. Now that he could study the besiegers more closely he realised that Eadwulf had brought over more Frisian mercenaries to bolster the war bands and the fyrd of the shires loyal to him.
He and Heartbehrt had counted numbers independently and had come up with around two thousand six hundred. Of these three hundred were mercenaries, another five hundred were trained warriors serving the various ealdormen and the rest were members of the fyrd. Many of the latter wore their normal clothes and carried and axe, spear or farming implement as a weapon. About a hundred were hunters and the like who were good archers but their bows didn’t have the range to trouble the defenders on top of the palisade which itself stood on top of a cliff nearly a hundred feet high.
Eadwulf had made one attempt to capture the sea gate on the second day of the siege but had been repulsed with the loss of thirty of his men. He knew the fortress even better that Swefred did and he was well aware of the folly of attacking the main gate.
As Swefred watched a battering ram started to make its slow, lumbering way towards the sea gate. It was now two weeks since the siege had started and the ram had obviously been made over that period. It was carried on eight stout wheels and consisted of a frame from which a tree trunk was suspended. The ram had a pointed end to which iron plates had been nailed. The frame itself was covered by a pitched roof to which hides had been nailed to protect the men pushing the ram from arrows and anything else the defenders might hurl down on them. Swefred had to admire his brother’s ingenuity.
In fact it wasn’t Eadwulf who had come up with the design but one of his Frisians who had read about siege warfare as conducted by the Romans. The ram lumbered to the foot of the path that lead up to the sea gate and there it halted. Swefred smiled to himself. Pushing the ram up that slope wouldn’t be easy.
As he watched his brother rode forward accompanied by his banner bearer. The banner was the same as that flying from the watchtower inside the fortress – a wolf’s head in black on a yellow ground.
Swefred descended the tower and walked leisurely to the palisade beside the Sea Gate.
‘What do you want, brother?’
‘I’m not your brother, damn you, I’m your king. Now stop this foolishness and open the gates to my fortress.’
‘So you can kill us all? I don’t think so.’
‘You have my word that, provided you restore Bebbanburg to me by noon today, you may march out unarmed and go where ever you wish, provided its outside Northumbria.’
‘And you expect me to trust your word? Why should I? You’ve always hated me and wanted me dead.’
‘True. Very well then. You will become my prisoner but your men may go free. You owe it to them to save their lives.’
‘What do you say to that, Heartbehrt?’
The big Mercian had joined him on the parapet and he grinned down at Eadwulf.
‘Good morning, cousin. I wouldn’t advise you to try and push that ram up this slope at the moment, or hadn’t you realised that it’s covered in ice?’
It was true. The evening before the defenders had poured water down the slope which had frozen overnight.
‘Cousin? Do I know you?’
‘I’m your Aunt Hereswith’s son, Heartbehrt. I would have liked to get to know you but, alas, that’s not to be. After all you’ll be dead as soon as the true king, Osred, gets here with his army.’
‘That’s a lie! No one is going to follow a nine year old boy.’
‘Yes, you’re right. It was a lie. I have no desire to get to know a traitorous devil like you, cousin or not.’
Eadwulf was getting more and more angry. This was getting him nowhere. He knew that the other ealdormen were mustering in Osred’s name at Catterick and would soon move against him. He had perhaps a week after his spies let him know that they were on the march, which wouldn’t be long now. The only good news as far as Eadwulf was concerned was that those arriving at the muster had slowed to a trickle, according to his spy who had left there two days ago.
The day had started bitterly cold, but as it wore on, the weak sun slowly thawed the ice on the path and two hours after noon the ram recommenced its ponderous progress towards the gates.
‘Where’s the snow when you need it?’ Heartbehrt complained.
‘Still, when they eventually batter down the gates they’ll be in for a nice surprise,’ Swefred said with a grin.
‘Of course, we could delay them even further.’
‘How?’
‘Open the gates and send the archers out for some target practice.’
Fifteen minutes later, whilst the ram was still some eighty yards from the gates, they swung open and a dozen archers and a few boys with slingshots darted through them. The Frisians pushing the ram were protected fro
m above but exposed to the front and sides. The first volley of arrows and lead shot brought down five men at the front and another volley took out four more.
There had been thirty men pushing the ram and seeing what had happened to their comrades enraged them. Forgetting about the ram they charged towards their tormentors. The archers and slingers sent one more volley their way, bringing down seven more men, then they ran back through the gates. It was a close run thing but the gate slammed shut after the last man, just as the Frisians reached it.
Now they were exposed and spears and rocks rained down on them as the archers rushed up the steps to the parapet. Realising that it was futile to stay where they were, the Frisians retreated whilst arrows brought down a few more. All in all Eadwulf had lost nearly a tenth of his mercenaries for no gain. Even the ram which had taken so long to build was useless. When the men pushing it had abandoned it, it had rolled back down the slope, hit a rock and had toppled onto its side, splitting part of the frame. It would take several days to repair.
When Eadwulf launched his next assault with the ram he sent a screen of men with shields in front of it with his own bowmen backing them up. This time the ram reached the gates without the loss of more than a handful of his men.
The gates were stout but they weren’t going to resist the battering they were getting for ever. The defenders did their best; hurling rocks and even jars of oil followed by flaming torches down onto it. The fire blazed brightly for a while but the hides had been soaked in water and little damage was done.
Finally the timbers bracing the gates in place gave in and the remnants of the gates collapsed. Yelling in triumph Eadwulf’s warriors stormed through the entrance, clambering over the shattered timbers. Only when they were inside the fortress did the leading wave of men realise that they had walked into a trap.
Instead of seeing the interior of the fortress open and vulnerable, they gazed in amazement at yet another section of tall palisade. Even worse, this one had just one small postern gate in it. This was so small as to allow just one man at a time, stooping low, through it.