by H A CULLEY
‘I’m sure you’re wrong.’
‘Well then, you don’t know Oswiu as well as I do.’
His brother had stormed off and they hadn’t spoken again before Catinus left. Thankfully though, Conomultus didn’t accost Oswiu. He left a message for him instead, saying that he was retiring to Iona for a while. He needed to spend time in meditation as an anchorite.
Catinus knew that Oswiu would be angry at the priest’s desertion without obtaining his permission and he suspected that he would now seek another chaplain. He just hoped that the next time he saw his brother he would be in a better frame of mind.
Then another thought sprang unbidden into his mind. If Conomultus had lost the king’s favour, might he not also take it out on his brother? It was unworthy and he tried to push it aside but it nagged at him. He had risen far from his humble origins and many resented that. Perhaps they could now turn the king against him as well? It was his greatest fear, far more so than falling in battle.
He decided against travelling from Dùn Add to Elgin overland. It was one hundred and fifty miles as the crow flies and on horseback though the mountains it would probably have taken Catinus some three weeks to accomplish it. As it was, Mael Duin asked the King of Islay to loan him three of his birlinns and two knarrs. By sea around the top of Caledonia was half as far again as the land route, but ships travelled faster and further each day. The voyage wasn’t without its small dramas but it only took five days, even putting into the shore each night.
As the small fleet approached the beach at the nearest point to their destination, the inhabitants of the small fishing village fled. The king’s hall was at a place called Elgin, some five miles due south of where they had landed. There was no harbour nearby and, as far as Catinus knew, Penntir didn’t possess one, nor did it have any ships. It would make communication with Bebbanburg difficult and he decided that one of the first things he would do would be to build a small port near the mouth of the River Lossie, both for ease of trade and connection with the outside world.
It took some time to unload the horses and their equipment so they camped that night near the deserted fishing village. In the morning Catinus bade the Islaymen farewell and they set off on their voyage home.
Without a local guide he was dependent on the little knowledge he’d been able to glean from Bruide before he’d disappeared to Lindisfarne. All he knew was that Elgin lay on the south bank of the River Lossie, which ran south from the coast and then turned west towards its source in the hills to the south west. He only hoped that they’d disembarked at the mouth of the correct river.
When it got light the next morning Catinus awoke to find that the land was covered in a sea mist. He could hardly see ten yards in front of him and he realised that to set out in these conditions would be madness. They’d get lost before they’d gone more than a few steps.
It was then that he spotted a boy not five yards away furtively creeping through the camp clutching a sword. If his filthy appearance and simple tunic made from coarse wool hadn’t told Catinus that this wasn’t one of his retinue, the stink of fish confirmed it. This must be a local boy who’d decided to risk the opportunity provided by the mist to steal a weapon.
He was just about to disappear again into the greyness that enveloped everywhere when Catinus made his move and jumped on top of him. The boy wheezed in pain as the man’s heavy body squeezed the air out of his lungs and for a moment he lay there fighting to breathe. By the time he’d recovered sufficiently to move the man had whipped off the rope belt around his waist and tied his hands behind his back with it.
‘Now what’s your name and what are you doing here?’
The boy had trouble understanding what the man was saying, but he got the gist. He replied in the local dialect but Catinus had to get him to repeat it several times before he understood him. By this time several of his gesith had gathered around him.
‘What’s he saying, lord?’
‘I think he’s saying that his name is Uurad and he’s the son of the headman of the nearby fishing village, which I think is called Kinneddar.’
Catinus had experienced no problems in talking to Bruide and he’d assumed that it would be same when he came to Penntir. Now it seemed that the locals spoke a different dialect.
‘Well, at least we’ve found a guide,’ Leofric suggested brightly.
‘I wouldn’t wager on it. He’s probably not been more than five miles from his village in his life, not on land at any rate.’
‘Perhaps someone from his village has though?’ Eadstan, the leader of his gesith, suggested. He had previously been the leader of the garrison at Bebbanburg but when Catinus had formed his own gesith he’d become its leader, handing the more sedentary life guarding Bebbanburg over to an older warrior.
‘Good point. We’ll have to wait for this mist to clear first though.’
Whilst they were waiting Catinus explained slowly to the boy who he was and assured him that he meant him and his people no harm. After Uurad had given him his word that he wouldn’t try and run, he was given something to eat and drink and he scoffed it down as if he hadn’t eaten in a week. After he finished he belched loudly and then grinned at Catinus, who he now seemed to think was his best friend.
By noon the mist had just about gone and Uurad took Catinus to where his father was hiding. It took a little time to convince the headman that the new arrivals were friendly but, when he understood that the strange man with black hair was their new ruler, he agreed to take him to Elgin himself. Uurad assumed that he too was invited along and had a heated argument with his father when he told him to stay at the village.
‘I think you’ve found yourself an admirer,’ Eadstan told Catinus with a grin.
The eorl gave him a startled look and then smiled.
‘Just a bad case of hero worship I suspect, though God alone knows why.’
‘Isn’t it obvious? He was shit scared of you and then you treated him nicely. His fear changed to relief and then you gave him the best meal he’d ever had. I’m willing to bet his father shows him little attention and he’s starved of affection as a result. You can do no wrong in his eyes.’
‘Really? If only it was as easy to inspire devotion in grown men.’
‘You don’t do too badly in that regard. Men respect you; that’s far better than puppy love.’
Catinus looked at the boy running beside his horse and the boy beamed up at him. He had to admit it made him feel good. He only hoped his relationship with his own son would be like that when he was a little older. Oswiu had certainly failed to achieve that with his offspring. He needed to make sure he didn’t make the same mistakes with his.
Elgin came as something of a disappointment. Catinus knew that it wouldn’t be like Bebbanburg but he hadn’t expected it to be quite as bad as it was. The settlement around the king’s hall was little better than a collection of mean hovels; even the church was little more than four wattle and daub walls with a turf roof. The altar was a crude table and the crucifix on it looked as if it had been made by a young child.
The hall was little better. There was no separate warriors’ hall, nor did the married warriors seem to have huts of their own. They all lived together and even the king had enjoyed little privacy, having a bed in one corner it seemed. Catinus’ heart was in his shoes. He could hardly bring Leoflaed and the children here. His wife would have a fit, especially with a new baby due soon.
He decided there and then that he would have to build a new hall, and one that was protected. This one didn’t even have a palisade around it. He started to think where to site it but then he had another idea. If he was going to go to the trouble and expense of constructing a new hall, he might as well locate it on the coast, perhaps at the mouth of the river, and create a harbour there as well. It needn’t be anything elaborate, just a simple jetty with deep enough water for ships to tie up there at any state of the tide.
He would build two halls, one for him and his family and one for
his single warriors. Once the married men had built their own huts their families could join them. The more he thought about it, the more enthusiastic he became.
Once he had made his mind up what he was going to do he explained to the headman that he planned to base himself across the river mouth from his village, but the man shook his head.
‘There is bad ground there; swampy,’ he explained. ‘Better to build it on our side of the river. We can move the huts that would be in your way further down the beach. That way you can also protect us from raiders.’
Catinus didn’t understand why anyone would want to attack a settlement of poor fishermen, but he didn’t question what the man had said. It was only later that he found out that the men from Cait and the Orcades were in the habit of raiding them from time to time for slaves.
The inhabitants of Elgin weren’t quite so pleased by Catinus’ plans. However, once they had got used to the idea, the reeve and several of them decided that they would also move to the coast and form the nucleus of the new settlement at Kinneddar.
Two months later the two halls were finished and Catinus moved his base to the mouth of the Lossie. Work had just started on a church and on the palisade that would turn the place into a fortress and Catinus decided that the place was now fit enough to invite his wife to move there. Three weeks later she arrived, bringing with her their new baby boy.
‘What shall we call him?’
‘You haven’t baptised him yet?’
‘No, I wanted you to be there. Have you chosen a name?’
‘I had thought of Conomultus after my brother, but I think he should have a proper Anglian name so I decided on Osfrid - that is, if you approve?’
‘Gentle friend, not the name for a warrior then.’
‘No, we named our eldest son Alaric, meaning noble ruler. He will be my heir so I hope that this one will become a monk or a priest.’
She nodded. ‘Very well, Osfrid it is.’
Two days later the headman came to see Catinus again.
‘It’s my youngest son, lord. He wishes to serve you as a servant, if you’ll have him.’
Evidently the boy hadn’t got over his hero-worship of the new eorl. Catinus was about to dismiss the man’s request when something made him pause. Hefydd was no longer a slave, though he was still his body servant. He knew the boy desired to become a warrior and he was of an age to be trained as one now. This might be an opportunity to allow him to do that.
‘Very well, send him to me tomorrow, but he is to scrub his body and his hair clean and Hefydd will give you a clean tunic for him to wear. If I get one whiff of fish when he arrives I’ll send him straight back to you. Hefydd will train him for a week. If he doesn’t learn what he needs to in that time I’ll send him back to you. Understand?’
‘Yes, lord. Thank you. He’s a good boy and I’m certain that he’ll serve you well.’
‘We shall see.’
Things settled down over the next few months and by the start of summer the jetty and deep water access was finished, as was the church and the new huts. Penntir’s bishop was also the abbot of the monastery that Saint Aidan had founded years ago further along the coast. He occasionally visited but mainly left the spiritual welfare of Kinneddar, as the new capital of Penntir was now called, in the hands of its priest.
Uurad proved to be as efficient and loyal as Hefydd had been. Every day the boy thanked God that he now enjoyed a relatively easy life as the eorl’s body servant instead of suffering the hardships of a fisherman.
Penntir was prospering under Catinus and, finding him a fair and just ruler, most of the people overcame their distrust of foreigners and he became popular. Things seemed idyllic, but it couldn’t last.
Tidings of the upheaval that was about to hit Northumbria came with a merchant who brought a message from the reeve of Bebbanburg. In essence it said that the dissention between the Celtic Church, led by Bishop Colman, and the Roman Catholics, led by Abbot Wilfrid, had grown so serious that Oswiu had decided to call a synod of all church leaders in his domain to resolve the issue. The synod was to convene at the monastery of Whitby during the last week of August, which was only a month away.
Catinus decided that he wished to attend. It would give him the opportunity to check on things at Bebbanburg on the way as well. So he set off in a hired knarr with a small escort a week later. He took Uurad with him but Hefydd had started his training to be a warrior, so he was left behind with the rest of his gesith to guard Catinus’ family. For a moment Hefydd regretted that he was no longer the eorl’s servant as he watched the knarr sail over the horizon. He enjoyed learning how to fight, but it was hard work and lacked any real excitement. Sailing down to Whitby to attend the great synod would have been a lot more interesting.
~~~
Catinus nervously paced up and down in the nave of the church. Oswiu had sent for him but he was being kept waiting, perhaps deliberately. He worried that he shouldn’t have come to Whitby; he had no real excuse to be there, other than curiosity. Oswiu seemed more irascible as he got older, perhaps he would punish Catinus for deserting his post? The thought made him depressed. He’d achieved a great deal in this life and his dearest wish was to pass Bebbanburg onto his elder son. The thought that his impetuosity might have put that in jeopardy was unbearable.
It didn’t help that some of the few nobles who were present seemed to take pleasure in his evident discomfort. Even Abbot Wilfrid had laughed when he had glanced towards him. Obviously he was making snide remarks about him to whoever he was talking to; he had no evidence of that, but his body language gave him away.
Suddenly the great west door was opened by a sentry and a young man stalked into the church. He took off his brown leather gloves and beat them against his dark green tunic to get rid of some of the dust that covered it. Next he did the same to his trousers before taking off his cloak and handing it to a nearby servant, who bowed as he took it.
If Catinus hadn’t recognised Alchfrith he’d have still known that he was a high-born noble from the heavy gold embroidery around the neck, cuffs and hem of his finely woven tunic. To his surprise the king’s son made his way over towards him, nodding pleasantly to those he passed on the way.
‘Well, Catinus. I didn’t expect to see you here.’
‘Nor, apparently, did your father, Cyning. I’ve been summoned.’
‘And you think you’re in trouble? I doubt it; he probably just wants a first-hand report of how things are in the Land of the Picts.’
‘I could be in trouble in that case. I hardly know what’s going on in the rest of Prydenn, isolated as I am up there, let alone able keep abreast of events in the other kingdoms.’
He realised that he spoken with some asperity, caused by his nervousness.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to speak so sharply. I just wish that I was back in Bebbanburg. I feel that I’m wasted up there; anyone could look after Bruide’s kingdom for the next few years.’
‘Hmmm, I doubt that. Look, we don’t know each other well but I know my father thinks highly of your abilities, both as a commander and as a noble. If he wants you based amongst the Picts, he’ll have a good reason. He’s had enough trouble in the north over the past few years. I suspect that he’s relying on you to keep the country peaceful. Perhaps you need to get out a about a bit more if you feel you’re cut off in Prydenn.’
When Ecgfrith walked away he realised that the prince was right. He’d been too busy looking after the people and improving their lot to do what he should have been doing. A few minutes later a priest he recognised approached him and told him that the king would see him now. He was surprised to be summoned by him. The man was Romanus, the queen’s chaplain. Evidently his audience was to be with both the king and queen. His sense of foreboding increased.
He was led into a side chapel, separated from the nave by a wooden screen. Oswiu sat at one side of the altar table and Eanflæd the other. Alchfrith stood behind his mother with a scowl on his face and
Ecgfrith behind his father. He could tell nothing from the expression on the faces of the other three.
He bowed to both the king and his queen before standing waiting patiently before them. He hoped that he’d managed to keep his face as expressionless as they had.
‘Ah, Catinus, good,’ Oswiu said, smiling briefly.
Catinus allowed himself to relax a little, it didn’t seem to be the greeting normally given to a man who was about to be disciplined.
‘I assume that you’re here to brief me about the situation in Pictland, but that will have to wait. There are more pressing matters at the moment; that is, unless some disaster had occurred?’
‘No, Cyning. All was quiet when I left.’
‘Very well. Alweo was to have gone into Mercia to escort Agilbert, the Bishop of Wessex, here. He has been chosen by the Archbishop of Cantwareburg to present the case for the Roman Church. Unfortunately he’s had a hunting accident and can’t ride at the moment.’
‘Is it serious, Cyning?’
‘No, just a few fractured ribs I believe, but he finds riding painful and travelling a long distance is out of the question. I was going to ask one of the eorls to go but you know how they are; they’d think it beneath their dignity and make a fuss.’
‘Whereas I’ll do as I’m told,’ Catinus interrupted with a smile.
‘I wasn’t going to put it quite like that, but you’ve never been one to stand on your dignity.’
I’d be happy to go and escort the bishop here, naturally, but I’ve only brought a few of my gesith with me as we had to buy places on a merchantman. Prydenn has no ships of its own at the moment, something I’m in the process of rectifying.’
‘Perhaps I might accompany Eorl Catinus, father? I’ve fifteen men in my gesith who can ride well enough.’
Oswiu looked round at Ecgfrith in surprise. If the eorls though escort duty was beneath them, he would never have expected one of his sons to volunteer.