by H A CULLEY
Garnait couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Ainftech ruled the smallest and least powerful of all the seven kingdoms. Uuynnid lay sandwiched between Northumbria, Strathclyde and Hyddir. His people were poor fishermen and shepherds in the main and he had no warband to speak of. Normally his attitude was placatory, so someone must have put him up to this. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Morleo nod imperceptibly at Ainftech. It seemed as if the new King of Ardewr might be more of a threat than he’d thought.
‘Why don’t the chieftains of Penntir nominate a council of regency and choose a guardian for Bruide,’ Drest suggested brightly.
‘Because that would only cause infighting as they struggled for power amongst themselves,’ Catinus said, speaking for the first time. ‘I have a better idea. Boy kings are vulnerable and if you leave him in Penntir I doubt very much whether he’ll live to celebrate his fourteenth birthday, let alone be old enough to rule on his own. I suggest you send him to Lindisfarne to be educated until he’s fourteen, then he can be trained as a warrior as part of King Oswiu’s warband. When he returns he’ll be old enough, and educated and experienced enough to rule on his own.’
‘And who will rule Penntir in the meantime?’ Morleo asked quietly.
‘I suggest you ask King Oswiu to appoint an eorl so that it can be governed as Prydenn is now. He has no interest in feathering his own nest in Pictland, only in maintaining peace along the border with Northumbria.’
‘I for one agree,’ Morleo said to everyone’s surprise. ‘The only reason I intervened to make myself ruler of Penntir was to avoid having a hostile neighbour.’
‘It makes sense to me,’ Bran said, getting up from the table to indicate that, as far as he was concerned, the meeting was over.
‘Me too,’ added Ainftech.
Garnait realised he’d been outmanoeuvred but he made one last try to retrieve the situation.
‘Wait, we don’t know what Bruide thinks.’
‘Provided that Oswiu swears that’ll he’ll return my kingdom to me when I’m sixteen, I think that Catinus has made the best proposal. Guret didn’t trust his council of regency when he was the King of Strathclyde as a boy. They failed to control him as they wished and he had to have them killed before they did away with him.’
Catinus wondered who had told him about Guret; that had been decades ago. He realised that it must have been Morleo. If so, it only went to show that he was as honest as Conomultus thought he was. If he had been planning to do away with Bruide quietly at some point so that he kept control of Penntir, he would hardly have warned the boy how vulnerable he was.
If he had only known then what a devastating effect Bruide was destined to have on the future of Northumbria he would have engineered his death, not offered him sanctuary.
~~~
Oswiu arrived at Dùn Breatainn, the grim citadel of the King of Strathclyde perched on top of its rock, with a warband of eighty, all mounted, made up of his gesith and Alweo’s horsemen. The rest of the army he had hastily thrown together were one or two days behind him. In all he had mustered another two hundred, all trained warriors, from Goddodin, Bernicia and Rheged.
He would have raised a much bigger army had he called out the fyrd or allowed the time for warbands from Deira and Elmet to join him. However, he disliked being this far north for too long. Wulfhere of Mercia was behaving himself at the moment, but he didn’t want to give him the opportunity to get up to mischief whilst he was away.
He camped beside the wide waters of the Clyde estuary about a mile from Elfin’s stronghold, which dominated the surrounding countryside. It stood where the River Leven ran into the Clyde and looked impregnable. However, Oswiu knew that it had fallen twice to his knowledge: once to him twenty four years and once recently when Elfin had captured it with the help of Catinus and Lethlobar.
His men were still setting up the encampment when four men appeared through the small gatehouse at the base of the hill on which the fortress stood. He called Ceadda and Alweo to his side and went to meet them. Although all four wore mail and helmets they carried no shields and were only armed with swords and seaxes.
‘Are you emissaries from King Elfin,’ Oswiu called out when they were within earshot.
‘Not exactly,’ the tall man in the lead called back. ‘I’m Elfin. King Oswiu I assume?’
‘Correct. I’m afraid they’re still erecting my tent but they shouldn’t be long; then we can get out of this incessant drizzle. Is it always so miserable here? I remember it rained a lot when I was growing up on Iona and at Dùn Add, but not like this. It started just after we set out and hasn’t stopped since.’
Oswiu was used to hardship but he was getting old. Now he was over fifty his bones ached in the damp.
Elfin laughed. ‘Not always, Bretwalda, just most of the time. The good news is the water in the Leven is much higher than normal so Domnall can’t cross it via the ford to raid along the north bank of the Clyde. As it is fed from Loch Lomond it forms an effective obstacle against him.’
‘Can he go around Loch Lomond to the north?’
‘Not really. It is very mountainous country and it’s where the Kingdoms of Cait, Ardewr, Pobla and Hyddir all meet at Glen Fallon. Their kings may be away but the local Picts would keep harassing them if he tried. He’d lose a lot of men for little gain. No, he seems content to hold onto what he’s conquered for now.’
At that moment a servant came to tell Oswiu that his tent was ready and he led the way into the shelter of the waxed leather pavilion. He took off his wet cloak and handed it to Nerian and Elfin did the same before the two kings sat down in the only two chairs available. The others were forced to remain standing, their cloaks dripping onto the rushes that had been scattered on top of the mud.
‘Where is he? Do you know?’
‘Yes, there’s an old hill fort four miles to the north, on the other side of the Leven. He’s re-building the palisade at the top; evidently he intends to make it into a stronghold to defend the territory he’s taken from me.’
‘Well, if he can’t ford the Leven at the moment, the same applies to us presumably? How do we get at him?’
‘I have ships. There’s a knarr and three birlinns moored at the mouth of the river under my fortress. He has a commanding view of the surrounding countryside from the old hill fort so we’d have to cross at night.’
‘Good. It’ll take some time to ferry everyone across, but once we have enough men on the far bank to defend the bridgehead we can carry on in daylight, if necessary.’
‘Cyning, it makes no sense to leave the horses behind. I accept that it would take too long to load them onto the knarr and unload them again, but horses can swim, even if my men can’t.’
Alweo was pleading with Oswiu to let him try to cross the Leven with the horsemen upstream from where the rest of the combined army would be ferried across.
‘You’d sit on them whilst they swam across? I’m not sure that would work and I don’t want to risk losing men trying – or horses come to that.’
‘No, Cyning. The men would hold onto the saddles and the horses would drag them across. Let me at least try it out tonight.’
‘I don’t want to risk losing you, but you can’t very well ask someone else to volunteer. It’ll look as if you’re scared to do something you’re asking your men to do.’
Oswiu thought for a moment. It was true he wanted his mounted warriors with him when they attacked the hill fort, not because horsemen would be of any use in the actual assault, but they would be invaluable during the pursuit afterwards. He had no intention of letting Domnall slip through his fingers only to cause more problems later.
‘Very well. You can try out your theory tonight.’
‘Thank you, Oswiu.’
After he’d left the king turned his attention to another problem. The contingent from Rheged had marched north through Strathclyde and were now encamped on the south bank of the Clyde. But that wasn’t the difficulty. They would be ferried directly
from there to the west bank of the Leven. No, the problem was that Strathclyde and Rheged had been enemies ever since the latter had been driven out of the region to the north of the Solway Firth a century ago.
Consequently the men of Rheged had taken the opportunity to get revenge on their old foes and raped and pillaged their way north. Despite hanging a few as an example to the rest, the Eorl of Rheged had been unable to control his men. Unsurprisingly Elfin was furious and wanted compensation. He had also demanded that Oswiu place them in the front ranks for the attack on the hill fort, the place of most danger.
This made no sense; for the most part they had no armour and carried small shields, therefore their unprotected bodies would be vulnerable to Domnall’s archers during the long approach up the hill. Although Oswiu was irate with them, he didn’t see the point in sacrificing men needlessly. He had planned to use those who had chainmail byrnies and large circular shields to lead the attack and he was still determined to do so. However, Elfin was in no mood to listen to reason.
‘No, I’m sorry, Oswiu. They despoiled my lands and they must be punished.’
‘You’re not thinking logically, Elfin. Yes, your subjects have suffered and you need to give them compensation and justice; any good ruler would. However, what you are proposing would only stoke the fires of resentment in Rheged. I’ve offered to return all the plunder and pay you a chest of silver in recompense. I will, of course, recover the silver through extra taxation in Rheged so ultimately they will pay. I also propose to ask them to produce ten volunteers to lead the assault on the hill fort. That way I will be going some way to meeting your request without stirring up further trouble between our peoples. It is enough.’
‘No, I disagree.’
Oswiu’s patience was wearing thin and he decided that he’d had enough of trying to negotiate with a man he saw as being pig-headed.
‘Disagree all you like; that is what I’ve decided and, as the bretwalda, you can either accept my judgment or repudiate my leadership. In which case, I and all my men will depart and leave you to sort out this mess.’
Elfin’s eyes flashed dangerously. He disliked being challenged and for an instant he had decided to withdraw his allegiance to Oswiu when the bretwalda spoke again.
‘Don’t decide now, in the heat of the moment. Let me know your answer in the morning. In the meantime Alweo will conduct his trial swim across the Leven tonight.’
Elfin stormed out of Oswiu’s pavilion, knocking Nerian out of the way as he did so. The servant looked after him in surprise and shrugged before entering.
‘King Elfin seemed a little out of sorts,’ he commented.
Over the twenty years that they’d known one another an easy familiarity had developed between the two men, though Nerian was careful not to overstep the mark. He knew from the dark look that Oswiu gave him that this was not the moment for jocular remarks.
‘I need to collect your byrnie and helmet for polishing,’ he muttered and, collecting them, he made haste to leave.
His master seemed to be depressed lately and he wondered if it was the aches and pains of old age or the never ending difficulties he faced that had caused him to mope and exhibit an impatience that had grown worse in recent months. Perhaps it was a combination of the two.
Nerian was right about one thing. Oswiu was depressed, but it had nothing to do with political problems or even the growing antipathy between the Celtic and Roman churches that had caused it. He had agents everywhere and they enabled him to stay one step ahead of the game. However, the latest report from a blacksmith in his pay in Loidis had worried him. It seemed that rumours were circulating that Alchfrith was conspiring against him. The blacksmith wasn’t certain, but he thought that Abbot Wilfrid might be encouraging his son.
It wasn’t so much that Alchfrith was ambitious; he understood that. It was the fact that he was apparently a traitor who planned to have him assassinated so that he could seize the throne for himself. Not only that, but he intended to have both Ecgfrith and baby Ælfwine killed as well. Presumably he didn’t imagine that his other half-brother, the scholarly Aldfrith, was much of a threat.
His son’s treachery had wounded Oswiu deeply. He wasn’t close to him, and he was honest enough with himself to acknowledge that it was his fault. He’d paid little attention to him when he was growing up and he regretted it now. Nevertheless, he’d assumed that Alchfrith would be loyal to him just because he was his son, and because he’d made him Sub-King of Deira. It seemed that he was wrong.
He never doubted the blacksmith’s report. The man had never failed him in the past and Oswiu knew that he would never have dared make such a report unless he was fairly certain that the rumours were based on fact. He wasn’t worried about his own safety but he was concerned about his two young sons. Perhaps the answer would be to give the fifteen year old Ecgfrith his own gesith; they could then guard him and his baby brother. It would be an unusual thing to do, but that in itself might warn Alchfrith off.
Elfin returned the next morning to say that he’d reluctantly agreed to what Oswiu had suggested.
‘Good. Thank you for that. Now we can get on with the attack on Domnall’s stronghold. You’ll be pleased to hear that Alweo’s experiment worked well last night. His horse swam both ways with him hanging onto its mane. The last of my contingents has just arrived and so I suggest we launch the attack at dawn tomorrow, provided we can get everyone across the river in time.’
‘I suggest you speak to your man who has just arrived first, Bretwalda. It seems the Picts are on their way.’
‘Man? What man?’
Just at that moment Catinus appeared in the entranceway to the tent.
‘This man, Cyning.’
Oswiu, whose face had creased into a frown at the slightly sarcastic way that Elfin had said Bretwalda, immediately changed to an expression of welcome.
‘Come in Catinus. You know King Elfin, of course.’
The two men smiled at one another and each clasped the other’s wrist in friendship.
‘What happened about Ardewr?’
‘Morleo has been accepted as king and you are invited to appoint an eorl to rule Penntir until such time as Bruide is old enough to rule himself.’
‘I see, and where is Bruide now? Is he to remain in Penntir.’
‘The council thought that might be rather dangerous for him so I’ve brought him with me. He is to go to Lindisfarne until he’s old enough to be trained as a warrior.’
‘Hmm, he’ll be joining Ruaidhrí then.’
A germ of an idea was beginning to form. Bruide and Ruaidhrí were too young as yet but if he gathered together several sons of nobles who were starting their training to be warriors, they could become Ecgfrith’s companions without it seeming odd.
‘Is Garnait on his way back to Hyddir?’
‘Not exactly, Cyning. He and Drest are leading the warriors they had brought with them to the council through Pobla heading for Glen Falloch. I understand that from there they will head south down Loch Lomond and recapture the territory Domnall has seized.’
‘Good. But that doesn’t help us here, where the bulk of Domnall’s forces are.’
‘Well, it may, if you can drive him out of the hill fort.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Garnait has agreed to advance as far as the isthmus between Loch Lomond and Loch Long, which is the border between Strathclyde and the Land of the Picts in any case, and hold it against Domnall. If he flees north to get back to Dalriada he’ll be trapped between us and the Picts.’
A grin lit up Oswiu’s face. Even Elfin had stopped scowling and was now smiling broadly.
‘Catinus, you’re a genius! Perhaps I should make you Eorl of Penntir as a reward?’
‘That’s very kind of you, Cyning, but I’m very happy being Ealdorman of Bebbanburg.’
Not only did he not want to exchange his comparatively comfortable and secure home for the wilds of the Pictish kingdom, but he knew that the appo
intment would cease once Bruide reached maturity. However, Oswiu seemed to know what he was thinking.
‘Don’t worry. You will can remain lord of Bebbanburg whilst you look after Penntir for the next what, five or six years? You can appoint a custos to look after my fortress whilst you’re gone.’
The subtle reminder that Bebbanburg wasn’t truly his, but was a royal fortress, wasn’t lost on Catinus.
‘Very well, Cyning. Thank you.’
‘We can sort the details out later. For now we need to concentrate on the attack on Domnall Dhu’s fort.’
CHAPTER NINE – THE BATTLE OF LOCH KATRINE
662 AD
Wilfrid was frustrated. Alchfrith had obviously got cold feet. The Abbot of Ripon saw Oswiu as the main obstacle to converting Northumbria to Roman Catholicism and he thought that he’d convinced Alchfrith to get rid of his father and seize the throne. He was under Wilfrid’s spell and, once he was on the throne, he would get him to expel the heretical followers of the Celtic Church.
But his ambitions didn’t end there. Alchfrith had just given a vill he owned just outside Hexham to Wilfrid so that he could found a new monastery there. The grasping abbot wasn’t thinking so much about the spiritual welfare of the folk who lived in the area so much as the income he would get from it.
He detested the devout Colman. The man was abbot of Lindisfarne, a richly endowed monastery, and Bishop of Northumbria, yet the man continued to live like the humblest member of his flock. He gave away all his wealth to the poor and the disadvantaged. It was something that Wilfrid just couldn’t comprehend.
Oswiu was the same. He should have been the richest of all the monarchs in Britain, but he too gave alms to the poor and had endowed several monasteries without taking a penny in income from them.
Thinking of Colman made him annoyed for another reason. It was stupid to locate the bishop of such an enormous part of England on a remote island in the far north-east. The bishop should be located at Eoforwīc, where the king was normally based. He knew that he would make a far better bishop than Colman too. The man was an ignoramus, theologically speaking, who had spent all his life in Celtic monasteries. He didn’t even speak English very well and, although he knew Latin, he had never learned Greek.