Uhtred the Bold

by H A CULLEY

  The huntsmen knew what they had to do without being told. They all carried bows and a quiver full of arrows. As we were hunting boar they had narrow points, rather than being broad headed, and although hunting bows were smaller than war bows, and thus less powerful, they were deadly at close range.

  The huntsmen climbed the lower branches of trees alongside the trail and waited for the first of our pursuers to appear. Like us they were in single file and, when the first three came into sight, the leader dropped with an arrow in his chest, quickly followed by the second and the third man.

  The rest paused out of sight before they started to cut their way through the undergrowth on either side of the track, no doubt hoping to get behind the archers and cut off their retreat; but by then my men had dropped down to the ground and disappeared.

  It delayed the enemy enough for us to reach open ground. From there we could ride at speed back towards my fortress but I wanted to capture one of the enemy. Hopefully I could extract enough information from him to confirm my suspicion that Eadwulf was guilty of attempted murder.

  ‘Leland, I’m staying here with Borg and the huntsmen. Take the other men and our horses and ride back to Duns Law as fast as you can. Bring my warband back here.’

  ‘Lord, you can’t stay. What’s the point? You’ll be killed, and the others with you.’

  ‘We’ll be fine. I have a plan. Now do as I say; and quickly, before they get here.’

  Reluctantly he nodded and they cantered off across the grassland, scattering a flock of sheep as they went.

  ‘Now, back into the trees. I want you three up into the trees again. Your task is not so much to kill our pursuers but to delay them. Borg and I will work our way behind them. I want to capture one alive so he can tell me who’s paying them.’

  From the way that they were dressed I knew that they were Danes. Even my brother wasn’t stupid enough to use his own men.

  We made our way slowly through the thick undergrowth, getting our clothing snagged on thorn bushes and the like, until I was confident that we would be behind the Danes. We then turned and eventually reached the trail we had followed to escape the ambush. I was about to set off, with Borg close behind, to come up behind the rear of the enemy when I heard the muffled sound of horses. We withdraw back into the undergrowth.

  As we watched from cover a boy passed us leading four horses on long reins. Because of the narrowness of the trail they were in single file with the reins of one tied to the stirrup of the one in front. I let four boys pass us but, when the last one reached us, I stepped out and knocked the lad out with the pommel of my dagger. The lead horse of the string was startled and was about to neigh when Borg grabbed its reins and rubbed its nose to keep it quiet.

  I glanced along the track to see if any of the other boys had heard anything, but the nearest one was separated from us by four horses and he was evidently unaware that anything was amiss.

  We slung the boy over one of the horses and tied his hands to his feet under the horse’s belly. Then we mounted and set off back down the trail to meet the main track through the wood. After a while we emerged out of the trees and I could see my men cantering across the pasture towards the exit from the woods where I hoped that my huntsmen were managing to keep the Danes at bay.

  ‘Well done Leland,’ I said, clasping his wrist in greeting. ‘Take half the men back through the woods and come up behind the Danes to cut off their escape. Borg, take our prisoner back to Duns Law and see what you can get out of him. The rest of you come with me.’

  We arrived back at the point where I’d left the huntsmen to find one of them lying dead under a tree at the edge of the wood. The other two still seemed to be keeping the Danes busy. We dismounted and I led my men into the woods to find the Danes clustered around tending several of their wounded. A few more lay dead with arrows protruding from their chests. I learned later that they had tried to rush the archers and had succeeded in spearing one before they were driven back. However, we were only just in time. The huntsmen were almost out of arrows.

  The ensuing fight was a blur. I recall being attacked by two men and, as I was unarmoured, I sustained a cut to my biceps before my attackers were killed by the warriors on either side of me. Luckily the cut was to my left arm and, although it was deep, it eventually healed, leaving no ill effects.

  Another wounded Dane lying on the ground swept his sword around in an attempt to cut my legs off at the ankle but I jumped into the air just in time and put the point of my sword through his neck as I landed. Shortly after that it was all over. The few remaining Danes fled back to where the boys were holding their horses and they rode straight into my men waiting at the other end of the trail. None survived.

  One of my men cleaned my wound, stitched it up with cat gut and bound it with strips of a cotton tunic taken from a dead Dane. We took their armour, weapons, coins, ornaments and horses and left their bodies for the crows and the wolves to feast on.

  Of course Ecgfrida and her women fussed around me when I got back to the hall. The wound was washed in mead, my wife clucking like an old hen about the filthy bandage and the likelihood of infection. Once it was bound up again with clean linen I was allowed to go and find Borg to see what he’d learned from our Danish lad.

  ‘Not much,’ he told me. ‘But I don’t think he knows much. He’s the son of a warrior serving one of the jarls who owns land near York. All his father told him was that they had been promised a pouch full of gold each for killing you but he doesn’t know who had paid them. They had received half of the payment now and were to receive the balance on production of your head.’

  ‘Are you certain that’s all he knows?’

  ‘Yes, the boy’s terrified, especially after I told him what had happened to his fellow Danes. What do you want done with him?’

  ‘He can stay on here as a slave. Ask the cook if he needs any more spit boys.’

  Standing close to the fire slowly turning a spit to ensure that the carcass of a cow, pig or sheep was roasting evenly was a task done by slave boys. It was extremely hot and sweaty work and, if the boys weren’t to become as well cooked as the meat, they had to be changed frequently. I was sure that another one to share the load would be welcome.

  I examined the coins that we’d recovered from the Danes. There were some coppers and even a silver one or two in the pouches we looked at, but amongst them there were a few gold half angels bearing the likeness of my father. It was proof enough that they had been paid half their fee in coins minted in Berwick. The question was, what should I do about it?

  ~~~

  Leland and Borg rode up to the closed gates of the fortress of Bebbanburg leading two pack horses. They stopped just out of arrow range and unloaded four wooden chests from the pack horses and piled them up in the middle of the track. Then they mounted their horses and rode away.

  ‘Did you see them opened?’ I asked after the pair had returned to Duns.

  ‘Yes, we stopped at the bottom of the slope and waited to see what would happen. The earl limped out leaning on a stick accompanied by your brother. Eadwulf walked forward with a few men and opened the top box. Needless to say, he recoiled in horror when he saw the contents,’ Leland said with a grin.

  Leland had gone back to the scene of the fight first thing the next day with some of my younger warriors and they had taken the Dane’s heads. It must have been a gruesome task as animals and birds had already started to feast on the bodies; in particular, none of the heads still had their eyes.

  We had chosen the younger men, some no older than sixteen, deliberately to prepare them for the realities of warfare. Chopping the head off a dead man should harden them to doing the same without hesitation to an armed opponent.

  We had washed the heads and doused them in vinegar to preserve them, and to reduce the stench somewhat, before putting them into the chests. I wanted Eadwulf to know that the attempt at assassination had failed and, furthermore, that I knew who was behind it. My hope was that
he wouldn’t attempt anything similar in the future.

  Chapter Six – Return to Durham

  Early Summer 998

  The new cathedral was ready for consecration and Ecgfrida and I had been invited to attend the ceremony by Bishop Aldhun. Durham was the first cathedral to be built in Northumbria; the main church at York - and the seat of the archbishop - being called a minster to reflect its status as a missionary teaching church.

  I knew from Aldhun’s letter that both the archbishop and King Æthelred would be present but he’d said nothing about my father. The presence of the earl was almost mandatory, especially as the king would be there. However, as far as I knew he hadn’t gone more than a few miles from Bebbanburg since he’d been wounded.

  As we rode up to the hill towards the burh surrounded by its palisade the sun appeared from behind a cloud and bathed the place in sunlight. I had brought an escort of twenty mounted warriors, not because I thought I would be in any danger in Durham, but because I thought that we might be attacked on the return journey. As it turned out I was wrong on both counts.

  A surly looking man in a rusty helmet and a padded gambeson stood with his hand on the hilt of his sword outside the gates of the burh. Beside him a youth of sixteen or seventeen holding a spear edged behind the older man, as if he was frightened of the approaching cavalcade. The older sentry held up his hand for us to halt.

  ‘Don’t you recognise the banner of Lord Uhtred?’ Ulfric asked.

  Both he and Kenric had accompanied me whilst Borg rode behind me bearing my banner. I had kept the snarling black wolf’s head, the badge of my family and of Bebbanburg, but I had replaced the golden yellow field on which it sat with a blood red one.

  The man looked confused so Ulfric pointed to the carriage behind Borg in which sat Ecgfrida, her maid and the nurse holding little Aldred.

  ‘That’s the bishop’s daughter. I don’t suppose that he’ll be that pleased with you for denying her entry.’

  ‘I’m sorry, lord,’ he muttered with downcast eyes, ‘but the burh is full. I’ve been told to tell all latecomers that they must camp by the river.’

  ‘Very well. But that doesn’t apply to me or my wife as Aldhun has invited us to stay with him,’ I told him firmly, giving Ulfric a warning look.

  He looked as if he was about to kick the unfortunate member of the local watch out of his way. He controlled himself with an effort and, muttering profanities, he went to order my escort to turn around.

  The man driving the carriage urged the horses forward and I went to accompany it through the gates with my servant bringing up the rear. However, the two sentries continued to bar the way.

  ‘I’m sorry, thane, but the king is lodging with the bishop. You’ll have to go with your men.’

  ‘I have a letter from Bishop Aldhun inviting my family and I to stay with him. He must have known that the king would also be lodging with him when he sent it. Now either you get your fat belly out of my way or I’ll dismount and see how good a swordsman you really are.’

  ‘I’m just doing what I was told to do,’ he said defensively.

  Reluctantly he and the other sentry stood to one side and allowed us through.

  We made our way up the streets of Durham towards the monastery and the thane’s hall at the top. The place was crowded, the taverns were evidently full and men were knocking on doors of even the meanest dwelling seeking accommodation for ealdorman this and abbot that. I began to wonder if there would be room for us in the bishop’s hall after all if the king was staying there. He would hardly be travelling alone.

  The new cathedral looked magnificent. The last time I’d seen it had been when the foundations were barely out of the ground. It was twice the size of any other church I’d seen and, instead of being the usual rectangular shape, it had been built in the shape of a cross with a tower emerging from where the four parts of the roof met. I doubted if the cathedral at Canterbury was any more splendid.

  The bishop’s hall – the only other place constructed in stone – lay at right angles to the cathedral alongside most of the other monastic buildings. Opposite them across an area churned to mud were the dormitory for the monks, the guesthouse for visitors and the stables. Stable boys came to take our horses and the carriage away and we walked, slipping and sliding, across the mud patch towards the bishop’s residence. Once we got there we were again halted by guards. This time the men wore polished byrnies and helmets and held shields displaying the dragon of Wessex.

  ‘You can’t come any further, go back to the burh and seek accommodation there,’ one of them said officiously.

  ‘I’m getting very tired of this. My wife is Bishop Aldhun’s daughter and she and I are invited to lodge in his hall. Now get out of my way.’

  The man shook his head and his companions lowered their spears slightly, as if threatening us.

  I was about to explode with anger when the prior appeared.

  ‘Ah, Lord Uhtred, how are you? I’m glad to see you and the Lady Ecgfrida. The bishop was wondering when you’d arrive.’

  ‘I’d have been here sooner if certain numskulls didn’t keep barring my way,’ I said heatedly.

  Ecgfrida put her hand on my arm to calm me down.

  ‘I’m sorry, lord,’ the man in charge of the guards said insincerely. ‘No one told us to expect you.’

  I ignored him and escorted my wife and servants past them to follow the prior across to the bishop’s hall. It was a long building two storeys high; the hall itself, which also served as the administrative centre from where the business of the diocese was conducted, was located on the first floor. It was approached via a narrow external staircase to make it difficult for an attacker to assault. The bishop’s private solar lay at one end of the main hall and this had been vacated pro tem for King Æthelred to occupy.

  The ground floor consisted of four chambers, each with its own entrance, normally storerooms, but which were now being used to house the bishop’s guests. We had been allocated one of these. There was a truckle bed for Ecgfrida and me to share and straw palliasses for the servants. A small cradle in the corner was just big enough for Aldred, who was now fourteen months old.

  Whilst the servants went to fetch our paniers and unpack them into the solitary chest in the room, my wife and I went to greet her father. A guard stationed at the bottom of the steps up to the first floor told us to wait there. I was getting used to this by now so did my best to maintain my composure. It was struggle and I was beginning to get impatient when he returned and allowed us past.

  We found Aldhun deep in conversation with three other men. The one with the gold circlet around his fair hair was obviously King Æthelred and I assumed the other cleric was Ealdwulf, Archbishop of York, from the richness of his habit and the gem-studded pectoral cross hanging from a gold chain about his plump neck. He had a florid complexion and I came to the conclusion that he ignored his vows about fasting and living a simple life. The other man was the only one I’d met before; Leofwine was the Ealdorman of Durham and, as such, was one of my father’s senior nobles.

  ‘Ah, Cyning, may I present my daughter, Ecgfrida and her husband Thane Uhtred,’ Aldhun said, getting up to greet us.

  The king frowned, no doubt irritated at the interruption, but nodded in our direction, whilst the other two men ignored us.

  ‘Lord Uhtred is the eldest son of Earl Waltheof,’ my father-in-law went on to explain, seemingly undaunted by our cool reception.

  ‘The disinherited one,’ Leofwine told the king with a sneer.

  ‘Disinherited?’ Æthelred asked.

  ‘Yes, his father took against him and has appointed the younger brother, the sinful Eadwulf, as his heir,’ Aldhun explained with a sniff, indicating what he thought of my father’s decision.

  ‘Sinful?’ the king asked, clearly puzzled by what he was being told.

  ‘He has a reputation for being lazy, a fornicator and a drunkard,’ Aldhun said with a meaningful look at Leofwine, who looked as if he
was about to come to my brother’s defence.

  ‘Is this true?’ the king asked me.

  ‘That I’ve been disinherited, yes, Cyning. As to my brother’s character I would hesitate to cast any stones. You should ask others.’

  ‘The young man is due here for the ceremony, Cyning,’ Leofwine pointed out. ‘Perhaps you can make up your own mind when you have met him?’

  ‘Very well. But it is not up to Waltheof to decide who should be earl after him. He has done little to protect my border from the Scots, whereas I have heard good reports of Lord Uhtred in that regard. If Eadwulf is as indolent as his father he will never be Earl of Bernicia.’

  I was pleased to hear that, but I was far from reassured. The rulers of Wessex had called themselves kings of the English for several decades now, but their grip on Northumbria was tenuous. I was fairly certain that Æthelred wouldn’t be able to do much about it if Eadwulf, secure in Bebbanburg, decided to ignore the king’s edicts. In reality Bernicia was part of England in name only. Even the southern part of Northumbria, Deira, whose earl, Ælfhelm, was a Saxon, might have been appointed by Æthelred, but the Danish jarls living in his earldom paid him scant regard.

  ‘At least the Scots under King Kenneth have been relatively quiet in recent years,’ I pointed out.

  ‘That won’t last much longer,’ Archbishop Ealdwulf said. ‘From what I hear, the King of Scots is now an old man and his heir, Malcolm, wants to expand the enclave the barbarians already have south of the Firth of Forth. He won’t rest until he’s moved the border south to the Tweed.’

  ‘All the more reason to have an earl in Northumbria who is capable of thwarting Malcolm’s ambition,’ the king said with finality.