Edwin: High King of Britain
“Edwin: High King of Britain brings to life the heroic age of our distant past, a splendid novel that leaves the reader wanting more.”
Bernard Cornwell
“At the dawn of England seven kingdoms
struggle for supremacy: but there is more than honour and power at stake; paganism, Christianity and the future shape of the English nation will be decided. A fast-paced and gripping tale of the great Northumbrian King Edwin, reclaiming one
of our great national figures from the
shadows of history.”
Justin Hill, author of Shieldwall
High King of Britain
The Northumbrian Thrones 1
Edoardo Albert
LION FICTION
Text copyright © 2014 Edoardo Albert
This edition copyright © 2014 Lion Hudson
The right of Edoardo Albert to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
All the characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Published by Lion Fiction
an imprint of
Lion Hudson plc
Wilkinson House, Jordan Hill Road,
Oxford OX2 8DR, England
www.lionhudson.com/fiction
ISBN 978 1 78264 033 2
e-ISBN 978 1 78264 061 5
First edition 2014
Acknowledgments
Extract p. 92: From The Exeter Book Riddles by Kevin Crossley-Holland (London: Enitharmon Press, 2008). Used by permission of Enitharmon Press.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Contents
Acknowledgments
Dramatis Personae
Glossary
Part 1
Exile
Part 2
Throne
Part 3
Imperium
Epilogue
Historical Note
Acknowledgments
Despite what it says on the cover, no book is written alone and this one is no exception. I would like to thank Tony Collins and Alison Hull at Lion Fiction for giving me the chance to tell Edwin’s story, and that of the men next on the Northumbrian throne in the forthcoming volumes, and Jessica Tinker and Rachel Ashley-Pain, my editors, for improving the book immensely.
Paul Gething of the Bamburgh Research Project taught me most of what I know about the Anglo-Saxons, and he was the reason for us going up to Northumberland in the first place. I still remember the jaw-dropping impact of turning up the coast road from Seahouses and seeing the brooding bulk of Bamburgh Castle, squatting on its extrusion of the Great Whin Sill, commanding land, and sea, and sky.
That Bernard Cornwell and Justin Hill read my book was satisfaction enough; their comments were more than I could have hoped for. My parents-in-law, David and Margaret Whitbread, have helped in more ways than they realise. Harriet, my wife, and my sons, Theo, Matthew and Isaac, have cheerfully endured the penury of having a writer as husband and father – I owe them more than is possible to say.
This book is dedicated to my mother and father, an Italian and a Sri Lankan, who made new lives in a cold northern land. Little did they suspect that their son would end up writing about it.
Dramatis Personae
Northumbrian royal families
Edwin King of Deira and Bernicia. King of Northumbria. High King of Britain.
Ælla Edwin’s father. King of Deira.
Osfrith Edwin’s eldest son.
Eadfrith Edwin’s younger son by his first wife.
Cwenburg Edwin’s first wife. Daughter of King Cearl of Mercia.
Æthelburh Second wife to Edwin. Daughter of Æthelbert, King of Kent.
Eanflæd Daughter to Edwin and Æthelburh.
Ethelhun Son to Edwin and Æthelburh. Twin to Ethelthryd.
Ethelthryd Daughter to Edwin and Æthelburh. Twin to Ethelhun.
Wuscfrea Youngest son to Edwin and Æthelburh.
Æthelfrith King of Bernicia and Deira. First king to unite Northumbria.
Oswald Son of Æthelfrith.
People of Northumbria
Forthred Friend and thegn to Edwin.
Guthlaf Warmaster to Edwin.
Wældhelm Weaponsmith to Edwin.
Nia Wife to Wældhelm.
Acca Scop to Edwin.
Coifi Chief pagan priest to Edwin.
Bassus Thegn to Edwin.
Cenhelm Thegn to Edwin.
Hunlaf Warmaster to Æthelfrith.
Dæglaf Retainer of Æthelfrith.
Kingdom of the East Angles
Rædwald King of the East Angles. Probably the man buried in the main Sutton Hoo mound.
Ymma Queen of the East Angles.
Rægenhere Son of Rædwald and Ymma.
Eorpwald Son of Rædwald. King following Rædwald’s death.
Kingdom of Mercia
Cearl King of Mercia.
Penda Warmaster to Cearl.
Beocca Door warden to Cearl.
Kingdom of the West Saxons (Wessex)
Cwichelm King of the West Saxons.
Eumer Messenger of Cwichelm.
Kingdom of Gwynedd
Cadfan King of Gwynedd.
Cadwallon Son of Cadfan. King of Gwynedd.
Briant. Abbess. Daughter of Cadfan. Sister to Cadwallon.
Kingdom of Kent
Æthelbert King of Kent. First Christian king of an Anglo-Saxon kingdom.
Eadbald King of Kent after Æthelbert. Brother to Æthelburh.
Paulinus Christian missionary from Italy.
James Christian missionary from Italy.
Oslac Wagon master.
Glossary
Angles One of the three main peoples that migrated to Britain in the fifth to seventh centuries from the Jutland peninsula. The Angles settled in the east and north.
Bernicia Anglian kingdom centred on Bamburgh. With Deira, one of the two constituent kingdoms of Northumbria.
Britons Original inhabitants of Britain. Ruling families, and possibly much of the populace, displaced by incoming Anglo-Saxons between fifth and seventh centuries.
Deira Anglian kingdom, centred on York. With Bernicia, one of the two constituent kingdoms of Northumbria.
Freya Anglo-Saxon goddess, known for her beauty.
Hwæt The traditional way to begin a recitation or song. Can be translated as listen, hear this.
Hel The underworld of the Anglo-Saxons. A place of grey shadows rather than torment.
Jutes According to Bede, one of the three main immigrant peoples originally from the Jutland peninsula. The Jutes settled in Kent and the Isle of Wight.
Loki Thunor’s brother.
Saxons One of the three peoples that migrated to Britain in the fifth to seventh centuries; they came from the North Sea plain around the River Weser. The Saxons mainly settled along the Thames Valley and to its south and west.
Scop A bard and poet – the keeper of the collective memory of his people.
Seax A short sword/long knife, worn by all Anglo-Saxons (indeed, it gave the Saxons their name).
Spear The mark of a free An
glo-Saxon. Slaves were not allowed to carry weapons.
Thegn A nobleman – that is, a warrior.
Thunor Battle god of the Anglo-Saxons.
Tufa Imperial standard of Edwin.
Wayland God of smiths and smithwork.
Witan The leading men of a kingdom, called to council, particularly to accept a new king.
Woden Chief god of the pagan Anglo-Saxons.
Wyrd Key Anglo-Saxon concept. Can be translated as fate or destiny.
How do you pronounce Æ?
In old English, Æ (or “ash” to give it its name) represented a vowel that sounded like a cross between “a” and “e”. Try saying it like the “a” in “cat”.
Part 1
Exile
Chapter 1
“The king is going to kill you.”
Edwin, senses trained by years of wandering exile, had heard the quiet approach to his room, but when he saw Forthred push open the door he laid his sword down.
“I take it you are not referring to my brother-in-law?” Edwin saw the expression on Forthred’s face. “I thought not. You would not have crept to my room to announce that Æthelfrith wants me dead. So, which king wants to kill me now? It is a long list he joins.”
Forthred pushed the door shut. “Rædwald. Our host,” he said.
Edwin nodded slowly. “I thought it must be. How did you hear?”
Forthred smiled. “You know what they call me – Forthred Falls Over? These people think I have no head for drink, falling from the bench after one or two horns have gone round the hall and sleeping until morning. But the things I have heard whispered after the scops have lain down their lyres have kept us alive through these years of exile – and saved me many a thick head in the morning!”
“Would that I could do the same, but Rædwald would have no truck with a man who could not match him in the cups. Now, tell me what you heard.”
Dropping his voice even though his master, by reason of his royal status, had a room to himself, Forthred whispered the news.
“Think on the new man we saw tonight at feast. He is a thegn and he took King Rædwald’s time through the daylight hours with only the king’s counsellors for company.”
Edwin nodded. “I saw him arrive with a wagon lain with gifts, but I heard him speak – he is no Northumbrian. Are you sure Æthelfrith sends him?”
“I thought the same, lord. A Mercian by sound and look, bringing gifts from Cearl to lay at the feet of the High King. Surely there would be no danger there for us. But in our time here, I have become… close to one of the queen’s women, and she told me that though the visitor be Mercian, he comes from Æthelfrith.”
“But Æthelfrith has sent twice before asking Rædwald for my head. Why should this third occasion be different?”
“Gold – gold most finely wrought from the emperor’s court in Byzantium – in chests full. Jewels, garnets, rubies to make a king’s eyes weep. Is that reason enough?”
“For what you describe, I would be tempted to hand myself over to Æthelfrith if I could claim my own blood money.” Edwin smiled grimly. “Kingship comes dear bought and is more dearly kept; no wonder Rædwald is tempted by such a treasure. But Æthelfrith has offered him treasure before. Is this so much more?”
“This evening, after I took my second drink from the horn and fell to the floor, as is expected of me, I made sure to stagger closer to where Æthelfrith’s man sat, at the high table with the king.” Forthred shook his head. “I could not hear clearly what they said, but I looked, lord, and to my eyes Rædwald seemed wary of this man. He comes, I thought, with hard words as well as rich gifts.”
“Æthelfrith wants dominion over all the kingdoms of this land,” said Edwin. “To that end he needs allies, and he must secure his own claim on the kingship of Northumbria. What better way than to suborn Rædwald with threats and sweeten him with blandishments? I am in Rædwald’s power, to give over to Æthelfrith or not as he sees fit. But Forthred, what proof have you that Rædwald this time has taken the bait and bowed to the bit?”
“My lady brought me the news. The queen, Ymma, heard it from the king’s own mouth this night, and her women are astir with the tidings, for the queen is angry that so mighty and powerful a king as Rædwald should act thus, bowing to the threats of another Angle. The queen says that her husband is the proper king of the Angles of this land. Ymma fears too what will befall should he act against the laws of the hearth and give over a guest to an enemy. But the king will not be gainsaid. He will have his treasure and hand you over.”
Edwin nodded. “Thank you, friend. May the gods favour you with long life and a place at their table.”
Forthred grimaced. “I have already lived longer than I expected. Come, lord, we know the worst; there is no time to wait. Rædwald will send for you in the morning. I have horses waiting, the moon is nearly full and there is light to ride; we will be far away by the time the sun rises.” Forthred slid one of the heavy gold torcs from his arm. “This will buy us passage on a boat to the land of the Scyldings, and there we will be beyond the reach of Æthelfrith or Rædwald.”
But Edwin did not stand. “Old friend, I thank you for your vigilance and the news you bring. But I cannot leave. King Rædwald and I have pledged allegiance and friendship to each other. If I leave tonight, without word or farewell, then it is I that break oath.” Edwin laughed bitterly. “I have little enough treasure left to me after these many years of exile; I will not squander what is most valuable to me: my word.”
“But lord, it is Rædwald that betrays honour and friendship in agreeing to kill you for Æthelfrith.”
“I would rather Rædwald killed me than Æthelfrith, the betrayer, the liar.” Edwin stood up and faced Forthred, the exiled king standing half a hand taller than his retainer. “How many years have we spent together, far from our homes and our land?”
“Too many, my lord.”
Edwin took up the pouch that hung from his belt. “Hold out your hand.” He poured into Forthred’s palm a number of smooth, round stones. Each stone was different, in either colour or texture.
Forthred looked at his lord. “Most kings carry jewels in their belt. Why do you carry stones?”
“Count them,” said Edwin.
“One, two… twelve.” Forthred held up his hand. “There are twelve stones.”
“One for each year of my exile. A stone collected in each kingdom we have fetched up in.” Edwin held out his hand and Forthred returned the stones.
“This one,” Edwin held up a rough grey stone, “is from the kingdom of Mercia, where I had friendship with King Cearl and he gave me his daughter to marry. My sons are with me still, but Cwenburg has gone to her fathers. This stone,” a pebble of mottled greys and browns, “is from the kingdom of Wessex, where I had little welcome and less goodwill – we had to flee from there lest Cwichelm turn me over to Æthelfrith. And this stone,” a glittering black oval, “is from Gwynedd, the kingdom of the Britons, where Cadfan treated me as a son and I was happy to stay there as a son, until the man I thought my brother in blood, Cadwallon, betrayed me to Æthelfrith.” Finally, Edwin showed Forthred a dull, rusty red stone. “And this stone is from here, the kingdom of the East Angles.” Edwin held the stone up between two fingers, but even in the torchlight it remained a dull, ominous red. “A bloodstone.” Edwin looked at Forthred. “I will not run. My wyrd is written in these stones. My exile ends here, in blood, and I care not now whether it be my own or another’s.”
“Lord, maybe you do not care if you live or die, but I do. I gave my oath to your father to protect you, with arm and sword and heart’s blood, and that is what I have done through our years of exile. I will not let you die through the guile of a betrayer.”
Edwin shook his head. “But is Rædwald a betrayer?” He held up his hand as Forthred made to protest. “I know what you heard and what you have been t
old, but Rædwald has treated me well through our time here. Twice before Æthelfrith sent embassies asking for my head, and Rædwald sent them away. I owe him thanks and honour for that. Until I hear from his own mouth that he has left the path of honour and agreed to turn me over to Æthelfrith, I cannot flee – not in the night, like a slave absconding from his master! Then I would be the one dishonoured and that I will not endure.”
Forthred stared at his king. “Do you think Æthelfrith cares for honour or the laws of hospitality? This is the man who stole your crown, who killed your brother at the feast where he married your sister. You know what the Britons call him in their tongue? Flesaur – the Twister. He twists everything he touches, bending all to his will. Already he has put the Irish to the sword, he has destroyed the armies of the Britons. The Mercians have sworn fealty to him, and the West Saxons too. Only this people, the Angles of King Rædwald, and in the south the Jutes of Æthelbert of Kent do not bend the knee to him. Æthelfrith is like a dog with a flea – he will not stop scratching for it, even if he tears open his own flesh. You are that flea, lord. Æthelfrith cannot stop scratching until he finds you. When will you learn that?”
Edwin looked up at Forthred, but instead of anger there was only tiredness in his eyes. “Æthelfrith would kill you for such an insult,” he said. “My father and brother would have done the same. But I have need of time and space to think. Go.”
“I will go, lord, but… but I have one more thing to say.” Forthred looked questioningly at Edwin, knowing that he was pushing at the edges of what Edwin would accept, but he went on. “You may be ready to die, but your sons are not, and neither am I. We want to live.”
Edwin gave no answer, but watched as Forthred made the courtesy, striking his forearm to his chest, and left, his footsteps receding over the rustling carpet of rushes Rædwald’s slaves laid each morning. The taper spat and burned smokily. Edwin stared at it, remembering, with a freshness that always startled him, his wife Cwenburg dousing the taper as she looked to him to join her in their bed. Cwenburg had died seven years ago of the shaking fever, but still the memory of her would strike him keenly when his mind was distracted and uncertain. As far as he knew, the gods had no place in their halls for women who had died of sickness, not even if they were queens in exile. But so keen was the strike of her memory that it was hard not to believe that she was watching over him from the shadows.
Edwin Page 1