Oswiu, King of Kings

by Edoardo Albert

  “Not there!” said Ahlflæd, and for the first time Oswiu saw real concern in her expression. “That’s the other reason I wanted to go to see Aidan. When I went to Coldingham, the sisters there spent the whole time telling me not to do this and not to do that. On Lindisfarne, the brothers – those who don’t hide – just smile and tell Aidan, and all he does is go red and mutter stuff about being quiet and calm. But I can tell he doesn’t really mean it, Daddy.”

  “Oh? And how can you tell that?”

  “Well, he doesn’t do any punishments. At Coldingham, I was smacked for singing too loudly, and then for singing too quietly, and for running around…”

  “All very much deserved, I’m sure.”

  “No! Well, maybe the running around. We were playing hide and seek, and I didn’t know the sisters had gone into the church – I thought it would be a good place to hide. It wasn’t.”

  “She couldn’t sit down all the rest of that day,” said Ahlfrith.

  Ahlflæd stuck her tongue out at her brother. “You’d never have found me if they hadn’t been in there.”

  “Would too!”

  “Wouldn’t.”

  “Would.”

  As the assertions and denials circled around him, Oswiu looked north, to where Coldingham lay. Word of his safe arrival had been sent to the queen and Æbbe two days before. Today, they might arrive. So, after lunch, he had taken the children and come up onto the ramparts to look for riders.

  He saw them. A column approaching, riding down the furrowed track that led north, the spear points of the guarding men glinting at the front, side and to the rear, while in the centre of the column rode the women.

  “Your mother is coming.”

  The children stopped their squabbling and looked eagerly to where he was pointing. Oswiu turned into the courtyard and yelled a command.

  “The queen approaches. Send an escort.”

  As men started clattering around below, Oswiu returned to watch. He had been long apart from Rhieienmelth and he felt the blood surge in his body. An image, unbidden, returned to his mind: of when he had first seen her, at the court of her father, in the castle at Carlisle. The kings of Rheged still held the stronghold of the emperors as their keep and it was within its stone walls, hung with cloths to keep the west winds out, that he had seen her, waiting upon her father. And his breath had caught then at her beauty. That beauty had scarce diminished in the years since. Now, Oswiu found himself leaning over the rampart, searching for the first sight of her dark, dark hair. But then he shook sense into himself. Riding a horse, within sight of anyone, the queen would not let her hair flow free, but would cover it with scarf and headdress. Only within hall, or with him, would she let it flow free.

  “She’s got him with her.” Ahlflæd was pointing, and Oswiu squinted along the line of her finger.

  Yes. There. The queen rode at the head of the column, with spear-carrying men flanking her and, beside her upon a pony, a figure to match the little animal: his nephew, Œthelwald.

  “He’ll be even worse now,” groaned Ahlfrith. “He’s always wanted to ride beside Mummy before, but she’s never let him.”

  “Not till now,” agreed Ahlflæd.

  “Let us go down and greet your mother. And your cousin.” Oswiu led his children down into the courtyard, which was seething with slaves and retainers. Now the queen’s return was confirmed, everyone knew that tonight there would be a feast, and the steward was pulling his preparations to their highest pitch.

  There was only one entrance to the stronghold: the gate, halfway down the rock, that looked out to sea. It would be yet a while before Rhieienmelth would appear. Oswiu stood at the door to the hall and signalled to his steward.

  “Have my seat brought out. I will greet the queen here.” Then, seeing his warmaster, Oswiu called him over. “Æthelwin! You shared in this great deed we did. Now come, share with me the queen’s good pleasure.”

  The warmaster arrived with the judgement seat. The men put the richly painted wooden throne down upon the topmost step before the door to the hall, and withdrew. Oswiu sat down to wait for his wife. The children, after twin pleading glances, he gave leave to run around the inner ward until the spreading hush told that the queen climbed the steps from the gate.

  “The queen returns, Æthelwin.”

  “Yes, lord. At last. She has not hurried.”

  Oswiu glanced up at the impassive face of the warmaster. “What do you mean?”

  “A day’s ride to Coldingham. A day’s ride back.”

  “There are many reasons for delay upon the road, Æthelwin.”

  “Indeed, lord. Not least outlaws. There are many, I hear, in the hills and forests around Coldingham. Mayhap they delayed the queen.”

  “If there are so many there, you should take some men and clear them.”

  “With your leave, I would be glad to. Mayhap I will find news on the men who attacked us – their voices had the sound of those hills about them.”

  “Mayhap. Find Acca and Coifi, and bring them: they should be here to greet the queen.”

  The warmaster returned quickly. Scop and priest had both been in the hall, Acca preparing his voice for the coming feast by bathing it in rich red wine, Coifi attempting to see wyrd in the embers of the hearth fire.

  Oswiu placed these companions of danger behind him and, hearing the spread of silence that indicated the queen’s near approach, he called the children to him, and waited.

  The queen appeared. Rhieienmelth, princess of Rheged and queen of Northumbria, as beautiful as he remembered. She approached, crossing the ward, a few stray hairs escaping and blowing free across the white of her headdress. Walking beside her was a small figure.

  The queen stopped in front of the king and made the courtesy to him.

  “My lord.” Rhieienmelth raised her gaze. It was solemn, and Oswiu wondered on that, for ever before there had been, behind her eyes, some of the same fire that filled his daughter and drove her ladies to distraction.

  “You gave me charge of your nephew, and I have kept him.” She reached a hand out and touched the boy lightly upon the shoulder.

  Œthelwald stepped forward and made the courtesy with all the elaboration of repeated practice.

  “My lord.” The boy looked up. The king began to smile. But then the boy saw his cousins standing either side of the king. Ahlfrith was scowling and Ahlflæd made the sign against the evil eye at him. Œthelwald looked back to Oswiu. “You have brought the king back?”

  Oswiu leaned forward in the judgement seat, the better to see the tight, angry face before him.

  “I am the king,” he said mildly, “but yes, I brought…”

  “She always calls him king,” Œthelwald interrupted. “The queen calls my father king.”

  Oswiu looked to Rhieienmelth. She made no answer, but her skin, already pale, grew paler.

  The boy looked to his cousins and smiled.

  Later, that night, after feast and drinking, when he was finished, Oswiu swung his legs off the bed. He sat with his back to the queen. Rhieienmelth reached a hand to his shoulder, but he did not look to her.

  “I loved him too,” Oswiu said. Then the king stood and, wrapping his cloak around him, went out into the night.

  Chapter 2

  “They still won’t accept me?”

  When there were no tidings of war, Oswiu liked to spend some of the summer at the royal estate in Melrose. The weather was mild, few insects bothered them, and there was good hunting in the forests and hills. But the king’s great hall there was protected only by a stockade and ditch; should rumour of war reach the household, then they would withdraw to the strongholds at Bamburgh or Edinburgh. The king had summoned his family and chief counsellors to Melrose, to hear the tidings brought back from Deira. Now, looking at Acca and Coifi, it was clear that the tidings were not good.

  The scop shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, for once discomfited at being the centre of attention. Coifi too seemed uncom
fortable, drawing his raven-feather cloak more tightly around his shoulders and sinking his head down within the collar of feathers.

  “No, lord,” said Acca.

  A murmur went up from the assembled counsellors. The thegn next to Æthelwin leaned closer to the warmaster.

  “Why did the king choose these men to bear his message and not the messengers of his household?”

  It was true. All the kings of the land retained men trained in memory, swiftness and surety to act as messengers, both between kings and to all the thegns oath bound to the throne. But Oswiu had sent his scop and almoner to Deira. Travel-stained and weary, with Coifi’s eyes beginning to roll in his head as he followed the play of light through the rise of hearth smoke, neither man presented an impressive figure. But the warmaster knew both from their expedition into Mercia.

  “Be not guiled by how they appear,” he told the questioning thegn. “They went with me and the king into Mercia, and took Oswald’s remains from in front of Penda’s face. No man I know speaks more sweetly than Acca, and few indeed see further than Coifi. They were good men for the king to send, for they could also tell the story of our mission.”

  The thegn shrugged. “Doesn’t seem to have worked then.”

  Sitting in the judgement seat, with his counsellors arrayed around him, the king sat in splendour. He wore a cloak of deep, rich colour, collared in white ermine, and bound at the shoulder by a clasp of gold and inlaid garnet. Upon his head he wore a gold circlet in the form of two dragons wound thickly around each other and with red garnets marking the glowing eyes of the beasts. Æthelwin had never before seen the king attired in such splendour.

  “But you told them of what we did?” The king leaned forward in the judgement seat. “You told them how I brought Oswald forth from Mercia, from under the nose of our enemy. You told them that we have him here? And still they refused?”

  Acca glanced uneasily at Coifi, but the old priest’s eyes were rolling in an all too familiar way. As inconspicuously as possible, the scop reached out and pinched Coifi’s arm. The old priest’s eyes started back into focus, spinning around the hall and then settling upon the king.

  “Yes, lord,” said Acca. “We told the witan of Deira all that.” He looked to Coifi. They had drawn lots on the long journey north to the royal estate at Melrose as to who would have to give the king the bad news. Acca had lost. “The witan of Deira gave us this message to take to Oswiu, king, and to the witan of Bernicia: Oswine Godfriend is our king. We want, and will have, no other.”

  Oswiu looked at Acca. “That is it? Nothing else?”

  “Yes, lord. And no, there was nothing else.”

  Oswiu sat back in the judgement seat. His eyes scanned the ranks of his family and counsellors: his mother and sister had come from Coldingham; Aidan was there; Æthelwin, the warmaster; and many thegns, from those parts of his realm closest to Melrose. The queen too sat in the council, her seat beside the king, but his gaze passed over her and, among the slaves and retainers of the household, there were whispers of discord between king and queen.

  The king addressed his counsellors.

  “They are fools. Surely, Deira must realize that they make themselves into an apple, ripe and easy to pick when Penda chooses. As one, as Northumbria, we have the means to meet him, to beat him, but now, separated, he waits for us to fatten until he brings the butcher’s block. Fools. My brother made them see this. Have they gone blind?”

  Acca spoke up. “Lord, we put these arguments to the witan, but they made no odds. Still it would not listen.”

  Oswiu looked keenly at the scop. “You remember of that which we spoke ere you left? We knew for a surety that there would be no quick acceptance of our embassy, but with sweet tongue and sweeter promises, some must surely have been brought to my side?”

  Acca shook his head. “Many an ear I whispered into, but it was as if my words were gall, not honey.”

  “Surely some thegn, keen for gold and glory, whispered that he might support me if I gave treasure enough?”

  Acca shrugged. “No, lord. I could scarce believe it.”

  “You took the gold I gave you?” Oswiu leaned towards Acca and Coifi, a thread of suspicion working across his face. “It was a great treasure, and I bade you give it freely to any who might listen. Have you returned with it then?”

  Acca, feeling the hall suddenly warm around him, shook his head. “No, lord.”

  “To whom did you give it?”

  “There was one thegn, great in the king’s council, who spoke with us when none were there to listen. He gave us to understand that he favoured the cause of the Idings and, harking to your command, we gave the gold over to him. But when we came to the witan, it was this thegn who proposed the message I gave you.” Acca began to flush. “The thegn tricked us, lord.”

  “Who was this thegn who took my gold and gave ill counsel in return?”

  “His name was Hunwald.”

  “Hunwald.” The king’s face grew pale, but it was the paleness of rage. “I know him. Why did you speak with him?”

  Acca saw the king’s anger but did not know the reason for it. “H-Hunwald is h-high in the king’s council, lord,” he stuttered.

  “King?” Oswiu shook his head. “I spoke with him. Oswine is friend neither to God nor his people. Call him not king.”

  “Lord, your pardon. But this Hunwald stands first among the men around Oswine. There are whispers against him, for he is a grasping man, as we found, but Oswine will hear none of them, calling Hunwald as much father as friend. Some of those who spoke against him have died, although none by violence – yet they have died. In falling from horse, through fit and the sweating sickness, and one with a belly so swollen he cut himself open rather than endure the swelling longer. Now men hold their silence with Hunwald, but to us, while we were there, all acclaimed Oswine Godfriend for the gold he gives and the strength of his arm.”

  “Strength? What king has he ridden against? No news has reached me of battle or war.”

  “Not kings, but outlaws. Many bands of outlaws ravaged the land after Oswald’s death, but the Godfriend, forswearing battle against the other kingdoms, has ridden against them, hunting the outlaws into marsh and mere, until the last hung from a tree.”

  Oswiu sat back in the judgement seat. He looked to his counsellors. “Have you aught to ask of Acca and Coifi?”

  Æthelwin spoke first. “What news is there of Penda? Why has he not raided into Deira? It lies upon his border.”

  Acca smiled. This at least he could answer without fear.

  “There have been messengers. We saw one when we spoke to the witan, although he spoke not; but he was of Mercia. Some say it is not only to his thegns that Oswine has given gold.”

  “He is paying Penda off?”

  “That is what some men say. Others say further: that Penda keeps a son or daughter to betroth to a child of Oswine – when he has one. But the Godfriend has been wed five years or more and there is no child – and he will not put his wife aside and get another.”

  “Really?” The warmaster glanced at the king, then back to Acca. “That is… unusual.”

  “I told him that he may not.”

  The voice was Aidan’s. Though he had been bishop now for near ten years, and ever the object of scrutiny, yet Aidan still coloured at the gaze of so many upon him.

  “You told him?” Oswiu was staring at Aidan, with mouth all but hanging open.

  “Yes. Oswine asked me if he might put aside his wife, as she had produced no child, and take another woman. I told him that he might not, for what God has joined together, no man may break apart.”

  “But… but how did you tell him this?”

  “With words,” said Aidan. “How else might I tell him?”

  “No, I mean how could you give him such a ruling? You are here, in Bernicia; he is in Deira.”

  “He asked me to come to him, that the church in Deira might continue to flourish. I took ship down the coast, and met Oswi
ne at a place called Hartlepool, where he was building a new monastery, to be ruled by a young cousin of his, a woman named Hild. She is of the line of Edwin, cousin to him, and new come to Deira, first from the kingdom of the Franks, where she was taken into the new life and received into holy orders, and then from Kent.” Aidan smiled again, this time in memory. “A remarkable woman. She will be a worthy ruler of the holy house for men and women that the king is building there, upon the cliff top.” Aidan looked at the king, and the smile of his recollection faded as he saw Oswiu’s expression. “Has something I have said displeased you?”

  “Displeased me?” The king’s face, pale already, had grown paler. “Why should I be displeased that my oldest friend, the man I trusted more than any apart from my brother, should forsake that friendship and go to the land of my enemy and offer him friendship and counsel and… and knowledge of my plans. Some, indeed, might call such actions treachery, but could I call my oldest, oldest friend a traitor. Could I? Could I?” And as the king spoke, his voice grew louder and, finally standing, he flung the final questions at Aidan as whip shouts.

  Aidan shook his head, and those near the bishop saw tears spring from his eyes, such was the violence of the king’s emotion.

  “No, no, no. I am no traitor, lord, but your friend, ever and always; aye, and servant too. But Oswine Godfriend sent word to me on the Holy Island, pleading for me to come – for the people of Deira, and he not least among them, thirsted for the holy mysteries so recently revealed to them and now hidden, for there were few among them able to minister to the people. I am bishop, lord. Abbot Ségéne, bishop of the Holy Island whence I came, gave these lands into my keeping. How could I hear Oswine’s plea and not answer it?”

  Oswiu, king, leaned forward, his hands upon the high table in front of him, and those near him saw the knuckles in his hands go white, so tightly did he clench them.

  “He is my enemy, and the enemy of his people. The longer he rules, the wider grows the gap between the kingdoms my father first united, and the weaker we get. The longer he rules, the stronger waxes Penda. Already he has drawn Lindsey to him, and its king sends tribute to the hall at Tamworth and no longer to us at Ad Gefrin. The other kings, the kings of the East Angles and Elmet, of the North Folk and the South Folk, the East Saxons, the Middle Saxons and the West Saxons – all those kingdoms pledge-bound first to Edwin and then to my brother – they all now twist in the wind, wondering which way to turn and which king will prevail. The longer Oswine rules in Deira, paying off Penda with gold and honeyed words, the more they will turn to Mercia until, finally, Penda will march on us, with all the kings of this land behind him, and we will be utterly destroyed. The longer Oswine rules, the nearer I am to death. You ask how you could not answer Oswine’s plea? That is how.” Speaking softly now, each word weighted with anger, the king said further: “I command you, as your king, to have no more dealings with him or his people. Without priests and monks to offer the mysteries, he stands condemned before God. Let him burn.”