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Honour is All

Page 29

by Marianne Whiting


  I waved to the confused young man to come and ride next to me.

  ‘You told me we’re headed for Eamont Bridge. Will the Queen be there?’

  ‘We’re not stopping there. We cross the Keel at Stainmore Pass and then we head south towards Jorvik. Your royal uncle travels north. I have memorised the places they intend to use as overnight stops and we have to use the same ones. That way we’re sure to meet him somewhere on the way.’

  ‘We’re meeting King Eirik. I thought I was to act as bodyguard to the Queen.’

  ‘Yes, when we meet up with the royal company the King will be able to travel faster. So he’ll go ahead with his hird and you shall follow with the Queen and her ladies.’

  I sighed. This was not a task I was enthusiastic about. I thought I had seen the last of Queen Gunnhild. It was scant comfort that she’d probably assumed the same. I wondered if Bertha was still with her and that’s why they travelled so slowly. But the children too would slow them down.

  Something about this didn’t make sense. The youth had said Eirik travelled with his hird. Where was his army? I had an awful feeling of having been here before. Was my uncle on the run again? Was I going to have to host him and Gunnhild and their brood at Becklund? More in hope than expectation I continued to probe.

  ‘Why is my uncle travelling north, and with his whole family?’

  ‘Princess Sigrid, I don’t get told things like that.’

  ‘You don’t need to call me princess, I have no royal status. I know you wouldn’t be told but you hear the gossip.’

  He grinned and seemed to relax. ‘Well, yes I do. Gossip has it King Eirik is meeting with important Northumbrian nobles at Eamont Bridge.’

  I wondered if he realised that this could mean just about anyone north of the Humber. It sounded just about plausible but could have been a rumour spread by Gunnhild to conceal their flight. So I asked him the question I really wanted to know:

  ‘Is Archbishop Wulfstan in attendance or is he still in prison?’

  ‘Oh, you haven’t heard. The Archbishop has been freed and given a See in the south, Dorchester I think it’s called. Do you know him?’

  ‘Oh yes, I know Archbishop Wulfstan. I hope he settles happily in this new place. Is it far south?’

  ‘I think it is close to the coast.’

  ‘Good! Oh, what I mean is it will do him good if it’s a bit warmer there.’

  If Wulfstan was out of the way, it might not be so bad. Perhaps I had even been told the truth and there were to be negotiations. But with whom and about what? I sighed and turned the conversation to other things. Over the next few days I heard the whole life story of the young man and that of his ancestors too.

  We made good speed and met Eirik’s following soon after crossing the bleak expanse of Stainmore. It was drawing towards evening and they had already settled in with a small religious community. I could see there would be no room for us in any of the buildings; even the barn looked occupied while tents and makeshift shelters filled a meadow and spilled over into surrounding woodland. So we’d have to make do with that type of accommodation as well. I sent my hird to scout out a suitable spot while I went in search of my royal relatives. They were all attending a service in the small wooden church. That is to say all except some of the warriors and my detestable cousin Haeric. When he saw me he sneered and put his hand to his sword. I ignored him and sat down on the grass by the church to wait. I leaned back against the wall, closed my eyes and tried to imagine some warmth from the bleak sunshine.

  ‘Mor!’ At first I though it must be Harald coming to tell me where they had set up camp. I looked up.

  ‘Why, Kveldulf! Odin’s beard, what are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m here with Jarl Arnkeld and his brother. I’m back with the Jarl’s hird.’ He pulled me up and swept me into a warm embrace. ‘Is Nanna well?’

  ‘Yes, Cinedred is with her. Where is Swein?’

  ‘Back with the rest of the hird preparing our camp. He’s doing us proud, brave and a lot stronger than he looks.’

  ‘Kveldulf, I have a bad feeling about this. I think Eirik is in trouble again. He may even be in flight from Jorvik.’ We were interrupted by Harald. My two sons greeted each other with much back-slapping and laughter. It was a happy moment. But I needed to find out more about why the Orkney Jarls were here with Eirik. Did he need such a strong following just to negotiate? And who was he having this parley with so far away from Jorvik?

  ‘No idea,’ said Kveldulf, ‘the Jarls were preparing for an expedition. Then a messenger arrived and we sailed for Jorvik. We’d hardly arrived there when we set off again. I don’t really understand why he has brought his whole family. They’ve slowed us down with all their baggage.’

  Eirik was his usual distant self. Greetings seemed beneath him and he gave me his instructions without preamble:

  ‘Niece, you are to accompany the Queen and the royal children. I put you in charge of their safety.’

  ‘And where will you and your army be?’ I knew it was an insolent question and was prepared to apologise. But he fixed me with a serious gaze and said in a low voice:

  ‘We shall be just ahead of you. You’ll be able to see us to begin with but then, of course, we’ll move faster than you and you’ll just have to follow our tracks.’ To my surprise, he patted my shoulder. I thought for a moment he was going to thank me or even praise me. But he turned on his heel and marched off.

  Eirik, the Orkney Jarls and three other important followers of Eirik’s left early the following morning with their warriors. I felt the usual mixture of pride and worry as I saluted Kveldulf and Swein and watched them ride off. Then I went to join Gunnhild. I expected a telling-off for having spent the evening with my sons and my hird and made sure to greet her with an extra measure of respect. She was busy getting her household ready.

  ‘Niece, Gudred is most insistent he wants to ride with your man without a nose so I have given permission for all three princes to ride with him and your son. Princess Ragnhild and my women will follow them. Your hird will cover the rear and I shall ride at the front with you.’ I did a quick calculation in my head.

  ‘And your four elder sons, are they with your husband?’

  ‘No, three had already left on an expedition when this…this parley was arranged. Only Prince Ragnfrid and my step-son Haeric are with the King.’

  This made sense, Gunnhild’s elder sons were old enough to take command of their own lives and fortunes. One of them would expect to succeed Eirik as King of Jorvik. Even as this thought presented itself to me I doubted that this would happen. Eirik had twice before been ignominiously expelled from Jorvik. There was a pattern here, the old tug of war between the merchants who wanted peace and the Jarls who sought their fortunes in war and conquest. It could not go on for ever. The merchants were very determined and very rich. One day Eirik would lose the crown for good. Maybe he already had.

  Harald was right: the days of raiding were over, warriors had to give way to farmers and traders. Harald had been brought up to be a warrior, to follow a great chieftain and find riches and reputation in plunder. But he had never shown any interest in this way of life. He had always directed his ambitions to his horses, breeding, trading and racing. Men spoke of him with respect and he had shown me the silver he had hidden in the ground by my father’s stone for safe keeping. With a tug at my heart I realised that Kveldulf was the son I needed to worry about, not Harald who looked perfectly at ease chatting to Cerdic while the three young princes jostled with each other to ride next to him.

  It was still early morning when we set off. Our progress was slow, not only because of the ox-carts but also Gunnhild’s ladies who seemed to have forgotten that they had developed perfectly adequate riding skills during our flight from Ripon. I reined in Lord of the Fells and waited for Ylva and the rest of my hird to catch up. Their horses, unhappy about the slow pace, strained at the reins, shaking their heads and sidestepping. My women too were bored and impat
ient. I reminded them that this was not peaceful country so they needed to stay vigilant.

  ‘I know there isn’t much to see,’ I said.

  ‘No,’ muttered one of the girls, ‘just bushes and bracken and rocks and bushes and…’ I knitted my eyebrows and she fell silent.

  ‘You don’t know what’s hiding out there,’ I said. ‘Robbers stalk you as the wolves stalk the deer.’

  ‘I beg your forbearance, Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter,’ she said.

  We rode together for a while. I wondered whether to send some of them to look for game. I had no idea what Gunnhild’s stores contained. For all I knew her carts had nothing but silver and gifts to smooth the process of the parley.

  ‘There’s another one, look!’ one of the girls pointed to a dead crow crushed to a pile of bloodied feathers by the carts. I hoped they hadn’t noticed the ravens circling the sky ahead of us. This journey was full of omens: a tree shedding leaves out of season, the smashed eggs in a bird’s nest fallen onto the ground, the skull of a roe deer resting in the grass staring at the sky with empty eye sockets.

  ‘Keep a good look out behind as well as to the front,’ I told Ylva.

  Riders and carts came to a stand still by a ford. I rode up to ask why we had stopped.

  ‘Horses and oxen need water and the oxen need feed,’ said Harald. ‘This is a good place to stop.’

  ‘It’s still morning, can we not wait and go on a bit further?’ I asked.

  ‘No, we don’t know where the next stream is. It’s the oxen. You won’t like this Mor but they need a feed and then they have to ruminate. This is not going to be a swift journey. We need to take our time.’

  I felt like screaming but, of course, I knew he was right. There was no way to speed this up however impatient I felt. It could take days to get us to wherever Eirik was meeting those Northern Jarls and then, oh Odin, I would no doubt have to get the whole sorry procession back to Jorvik again. If he was returning there, of course. Nothing seemed certain.

  We un-yoked the oxen and my warrior women led everyone’s horses to the stream.

  ‘Sigrid! Niece!’ Gunnhild came up to us.

  ‘My Royal Aunt.’

  ‘Something’s wrong! I can sense it, I feel it.’

  ‘Are you unwell, Aunt?’

  ‘No, my husband! Something is not right. Too many bad omens. You must have seen them too. I want you to ride after him. Warn him. Tell him to turn back. I have the most awful premonition.’ Her words and her staring eyes made cold shivers race along my spine.

  ‘Shall you turn round or will you wait here?’ She faltered and Harald butted in:

  ‘The animals need water and rest. We should wait here.’

  I let Lord of the Fells drink before setting off. I could feel the envious eyes of my warrior women as I let my horse break into a gallop. The wind against my face felt good but I could not shake off the unease Gunnhild’s agitation had stirred in me. It was not long after midday when a rider came towards me. He whipped his horse and bent over its neck to help it speed along. When he saw me he waved.

  ‘Cousin…an ambush…my mother must wait…fighting.’

  ‘Ragnfrid! You’re injured!’

  ‘Nothing.’ What he called nothing was an arrow in his shoulder.

  ‘Get down, what’s gained by you bleeding to death?’

  He did as I said. I pulled out the arrow and while I tied up the wound he told me what had happened:

  ‘We were ambushed by a great number of warriors. One of the chieftains, I’m sure, is that Oswulf, the High-Reeve of Bamburgh.’

  ‘King Aedred’s man! I cannot believe he was the one your father went to parley with?’

  ‘It wasn’t. I don’t need to lie to you, do I? You must have guessed. My father knew the High-Reeve was headed for Jorvik with an army. The merchants, damn their faint hearts, refused money for mercenaries. We were on our way to negotiate free passage with King Malcolm’s men but he has betrayed us to Lord Oswulf. They lay in wait and attacked.’

  I wasn’t really surprised. The High-Reeve had been humiliated when he was defeated by Eirik two years ago. Aedred would be grateful if he managed to rid him of Eirik. King Malcolm too would be happy to see the back of Eirik. I finished the makeshift bandage.

  ‘Your mother will do this properly when we get to her.’

  Harald saw us first and held up a hand to stop the procession of horses and wagons. Ylva joined him and they came to meet us.

  ‘Eirik was ambushed. You must turn around and take the Queen and the children back to Jorvik.’

  ‘Then what?’ said Ylva.

  ‘Then you go home to Keskadale and Harald shall return to Becklund with the rest of the hird. Odin, Thor and Frey be with you.’

  ‘Mor! I don’t like the sound of that. Where are you going?’

  ‘I want to find out what’s happening. I don’t trust Haeric.’

  ‘But Mor.’

  ‘No, I have to warn Kveldulf. I should have done it before.’ I reached out and exchanged a warriors’ handshake with Ylva. Harald took my hand and held it to his cheek.

  ‘Be careful, Mor.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll meet you back home.’

  Gunnhild approached and began removing my makeshift bandage from Ragnfrid’s shoulder.

  ‘Your husband’s army has been ambushed,’ I said. ‘I have ordered my hird to take you back to Jorvik.’

  ‘I do not run like a whipped dog. I shall wait here for my husband’s victory’

  ‘This is no place for children. My uncle made it my duty to see them safe. Your son is wounded and in need of your care. I would ask you to return to Jorvik. I do not doubt your husband will rout his enemies but the hills will be full of desperate warriors. It is not a place for children.’

  Gunnhild hesitated but then she bent her head.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I must see my children safe.’

  ‘If Odin should have decided to call your husband to his side…?’ I made myself say it.

  ‘I know what I have to do. The Orkney Jarls will give us shelter. Their drakkens are moored in Jorvik. Eirik…’ Her eyes welled up. She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. ‘The King expects me to be brave. If the traitors have the day, I have sons who will take revenge.’

  It took a long time to turn the heavy ox-wagons round. I was sweating with worry that we would be attacked before they were even on their way. I tried to persuade Gunnhild to start the journey without the baggage but she refused. That confirmed what I had thought; the carts contained treasure. It had been meant to buy free passage through King Malcolm’s land. Now the silver would buy Gunnhild and her sons favour in Orkney. It was afternoon by the time they set off. I curtsied to Gunnhild, saluted my warriors and waved to my son. Then I put all thought of home and family out of my mind.

  When I was able to hear the battle-din I hobbled Lord of the Fells and set off on foot to find Kveldulf. I crept along the side of the valley half way up the slope. Two corpses lay just below me carelessly tossed aside into the heather. Eirik’s scouts. That’s how he’d walked straight into the trap. I got closer to the fighting but I had no intention of rushing in. Maybe I could cause some injuries but once discovered I would be an easy target without my hird. Further along the valley I recognised the standard of the High Reeve of Bamburgh. His soldiers milled like ants covering the valley floor. They were vastly superior in number to the warriors Eirik had brought when he thought himself on the way to a parley.

  The ambush had been swift and brutal. The fighting was nearing its end. There were still small groups fighting but many warriors had decided it was now over. One of these was my nephew Swein. He limped, supporting himself on his spear. I stood up and called to him.

  ‘I’m sorry Aunt,’ he said. ‘Kveldulf told me to leave and fight another day. I don’t feel right about it though.’

  ‘Kveldulf was right. This battle is over. You must make your way home. I left Lord of the Fells further down the path. Take him.’r />
  ‘But what about you?’

  ‘There will be plenty of horses around here after the battle. I’ll find one. You must try to catch up with Queen Gunnhild. Tell her King Eirik is dead and she must take her children to safety. Harald is there and Ylva. They’ll help you. Odin be on your side.’ We exchanged a warrior handshake and he limped on. I had a thought and ran to catch up with him.

  ‘Wait! Here, have this.’ I pulled my Mjolnir amulet from my neck and hung it round Swein’s.

  I walked on to where the battle still raged. Eirik’s hird was sadly depleted. Bodies lay in piles where they had fallen. The last of the hirdsmen stood in a shieldwall round the King but they were so few. These were his sworn men, those who had taken the oath to die with him. Before my eyes they fell one by one until Eirik stood alone. He hewed around him with his battle axe in one hand and the raven standard in the other. He fought well, my uncle, it took four of them to get through to him. A blow to his head knocked off his helmet. A sword sliced through his arm and the raven standard crashed to the ground. Eirik fell covered in blood, calling to Odin. The warriors pulled back and their lord came and stood by Eirik’s body. The lord gestured to one of his men who raised his axe. I put my hand to my mouth to stop the scream that would give me away. The axe fell and Eirik’s head rolled to one side. Somebody was making very sure Eirik Haraldson had been King of Jorvik for the last time.

  I stayed hidden. My eyes searched the field until I recognised Kveldulf’s helmet. Dead hirdsmen at their feet, he and Jarl Arnkel stood together back to back next to a low rock. The standard with the raven’s head lay trampled in the mud. Their blades flashed and their shields crashed against their enemies’. Five warriors attacked them. I ran towards them. Another two fighters arrived and turned on the Jarl. He fell with a spear through his neck. I ran his bane man through before he had time to pull his spear back.

  ’Mor!’ shouted Kveldulf. ‘Run, save yourself!’

  ‘Look at your enemies, son,’ I replied and cut the arm off a young warrior before he could complete the swing his axe had aimed at Kveldulf.

 

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