WARRIORS OF THE NORTH

by H A CULLEY

  ‘No need to call me Cyning. We’ve known each other too long to stand on ceremony. Did Eochaid explain what I have agreed with Ségéne, provided you are amenable, of course?’

  Aidan nodded. ‘I am honoured, of course, and I can’t wait to get started. Will you be returning after your brother’s wedding?’

  ‘No, I’m bound for Wessex and the baptism of King Cynegils.’

  ‘Baptism? Who by? I didn’t know that Iona had …. Ah! I suppose it is to be conducted by some Roman bishop?’

  ‘Yes, Bishop Birinus I gather.’

  ‘Not a name I know,’ Aidan said dismissively. ‘It seems that we and the Romans will soon be vying to convert the English.’

  ‘Well, you’re both followers of Christ, even if you don’t acknowledge the Pope in Rome or agree on how to calculate Easter. In any case it’s irrelevant, it’s you I want to convert the North.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I must return to Iona first though. Ségéne is a consecrated bishop as well as abbot and he must lay his hands on me to make me a bishop. Have you had any thoughts about a monastery for me to use as a base?’

  ‘Yes, it’s on the Island of Lindisfarne, not far from Bebbanburg. Oslac has seen it and can take you there. He has my authority to recruit labour and pay for materials and, no doubt, he can help you to recruit your first monks.’

  ‘Oswiu will not be returning then?’

  ‘Not until I do next spring. He must get to know his new land once he is the heir. Whilst I’m away my mother and my son, together with the senior eorl form the regency council, but Oslac is the man to help you.’

  ‘Very well. I’ll need a ship to take me to Iona and if I can borrow a horse, I’ll set out as soon as I return. However, first I must make arrangements for the care of Ròidh until he’s fit enough to make the journey east. Will you bring him with you when you return this way?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll arrange for a small escort to accompany you too. There is a lot of wild country between here and the east coast.’

  Aidan laughed. ‘That won’t be necessary. If I can survive for a winter in Strathclyde with every man’s hand turned against me, then the journey across a largely deserted wilderness should present little problem.’

  ‘Very well; but I will give you a boy to act as your servant.’

  ‘That would be kind. I’m afraid that I’ve been spoilt; I mean by having Ròidh to look after me.’

  ~~~

  Aidan set off on the eighty mile journey to Bebbanburg as soon as he’d returned from his consecration on Iona. Although it was late summer the weather was cold and a light drizzle soon permeated every layer of clothing. He was missing the company of Ròidh but he soon realised that his new companion was irrepressibly cheerful. The boy was called Garrett and was the son of an Irish father, one of Eochaid’s crew, and a Dalriadan mother from Arran. He had just turned twelve and had been a ship’s boy for just over a year.

  They had got to know one another on the ponto that took him to the Holy Island of Iona and back. The voyage had been uneventful and he’d left again as soon as the abbot had laid his hands on his head and said the words that transformed him from monk to priest and then bishop. He loved Iona but he was impatient to reach his own Holy Island and start his new mission.

  Even the drizzle that accompanied them on the road north from Caer Luel failed to dampen Aidan’s spirits and, as if in response to Garrett’s sunny disposition, the weather gradually improved and by mid-morning their cloaks were gently steaming as the sun dried them out.

  Initially the landscape beyond Caer Luel had been flat and uninteresting, but once they had forded the River Esk, they could just make out the hills in the distance. Their route took them due north initially along Ewes Water towards the head of the River Teviot. This took them into Strathclyde for a while but it was be a much shorter journey than following the old Roman defensive wall across to the east coast before heading north.

  Once across the Esk Garrett rode ahead to warn Aidan of any habitation, patrols or hunting parties. Recalling his recent escape from one of the latter the new bishop wondered whether he’d been wise to turn down the offer of an escort, but they saw no-one except for the odd isolated farm and a few small settlements. These they avoided by taking to the hills.

  It took them two days to reach a settlement known as Haws Wic on the Teviot and Aidan breathed a sigh of relief as he knew that they were now in Bernicia. However, this was border country and the place was protected by a small fortress in which the local thegn lived with his warriors. Aidan had expected to be received as a friend of the king, but he realised that he might not be as welcome a guest as he had supposed when he was shown into the hall and saw a druid standing by the thegn’s chair, whispering urgently into his ear.

  Garrett had disappeared to look after their horses and Aidan hoped that he would stay away from him for a while. This looked as if it would be his first test as Bishop of Northumbria and the boy could be in danger through association if he mishandled the coming encounter.

  ‘Greetings, lord. I’m Aidan, Bishop of Northumbria and friend of King Oswald.’

  Aidan thought that establishing himself as close to the king might persuade the thegn to tread carefully. It certainly made the man sit up straighter and narrow his eyes in speculation.

  ‘What brings you to Haws Wic, Bishop Aidan?’

  ‘I am charged by the king to establish a monastery on the Island of Lindisfarne.’

  It was clear that the name meant nothing to the thegn, which was unsurprising given the isolated location of the settlement some forty miles from the east coast.

  ‘It’s near Bebbanburg,’ he added helpfully.

  ‘So you are merely passing through?’ the thegn asked with a relieved smile on his face.

  The druid bent down to whisper in the thegn’s ear again but the man waved him away.

  ‘I hear that this King Oswald is a follower of the White Christ, so was King Edwin but he soon changed back to the old gods. What makes this king different?’

  ‘He was brought up on Iona, the Holy Island where I was trained. He is a true believer in the one God, not like Edwin who became a Christian for political reasons.’

  ‘And what makes your god superior to those that I believe in?’

  ‘Your gods don’t exist, lord, God and His Son, Jesus Christ do.’

  ‘Can you prove that?’

  At that moment Garrett entered carrying Aidan’s satchel and other things he might need overnight. Aidan beckoned him to his side and took an illuminated book from his satchel.

  ‘This is the Word of God. It tells of Jesus’ life on earth and his ascension into Heaven where he sits at the right hand of God the Father after he rose from the dead.’

  ‘Show me the book.’

  Aidan did so but, whilst the thegn admired the calligraphy and the illuminations, he couldn’t make head or tail of it.

  ‘I can read English, priest, but I don’t know this language.’

  ‘It is written in Latin, one of the ancient tongues that was spoken when Our Lord Jesus was on Earth.’

  ‘Pah!’ the druid sneered after peering at the book. Unlike the thegn he couldn’t read a word in any language. His religion was passed on verbally. ‘That could say anything and be written by anyone. It proves nothing. Our gods are Woden, Thunor, Tiw the god of war and Frey, the goddess of virility and prosperity. We offend them at our peril.’

  ‘And you risk eternal damnation. You will be cast down into the fires of Hell if you deny Christ. Do you not also worship the spirits in the air, the water, the earth and the woods? There isn’t a multitude of these spirits, as you would have people believe, but one – the Holy Spirit who exists with God and his son Jesus as the Holy Trinity.’

  The thegn had looked worried at the mention of Hell but now he appeared puzzled.

  ‘If there is but one God, how is it that there are now three?’

  ‘Christ was begotten of the Father and is at one with him and the Holy S
pirit proceeds from the Father and is also at one with him. They are three parts of one entity, not three separate gods. Don’t think of them in human terms but as three equal parts which have merged into one.’

  The thegn looked interested, much to the druid’s concern. He glared at Aidan, who smiled back at him whilst Garrett, hidden from the thegn by Aidan’s body, stuck his tongue out at him. Of course, this enraged the druid further, which was the boy’s intention.

  ‘This is nonsense, lord. We should drive these two from Haws Wic with stones and clubs.’

  ‘Be quiet. I didn’t give you leave to speak or ask your opinion. Leave us if you can’t keep quiet.’

  The druid drew himself up and stalked out of the hall looking offended. It didn’t escape Aidan’s notice that a few of the warriors sitting around listening to the conversation sniggered. It appeared that the druid wasn’t popular.

  He joined the thegn for the evening meal and continued to explain the basic teachings of Christ to the man. He was full of questions, all of which Aidan dealt with deftly. In the end the thegn invited him to stay awhile and preach to the residents of the settlement the next day. In the end it was the druid who was driven out and the thegn, his family and most of the inhabitants were baptised in the River Teviot before he left.

  ‘A monk will visit you as soon as possible to carry on your instruction, but I can’t say when. In the meantime call your people to prayer on Sunday mornings and read the prayers I have left for you.’

  The man nodded and then surprised Aidan.

  ‘My second son wishes to become one of your monks at this place Lindisfarne. When he is trained he can return to us as a priest to minister to our needs.’

  ‘I’m delighted, though it will be a year or two before he is trained. Where is your son? Will he come with us now?’

  A boy of about eight rode forward on a pony and joined Garrett.

  ‘I see. Well, it may be more than a year or two, nearer six,’ he laughed. ‘What’s your name boy?’

  ‘Lucan, Bishop Aidan,’ the boy answered clearly in a high treble voice.

  ‘Welcome Lucan. You’re my very first novice.’

  ‘What about Garrett?’

  At this the other boy laughed.

  ‘I want to be a famous warrior like Whiteblade, not a monk,’ he declared with a laugh.

  ‘Whiteblade?’

  ‘It’s what King Oswald is called by his warriors.’

  With that Aidan headed his horse towards the east and the trio rode out of Haws Wic heading for Bebbanburg.

  ~~~

  Oswald was full of conflicting emotions. He had loved Gytha and now he loved Keeva, perhaps even more than he had his wife. He was well aware that one of the things that kept his son at a distance from him was his love for Keeva. Œthelwald felt that, by taking Keeva as his lover, he had betrayed Gytha’s memory.

  Now he was walking side by side with his brother into the church at Caer Luel for the latter’s marriage to Rhieinmelth, a girl he could have married himself and who he was falling in love with more and more every time he saw her. He felt awful about it. Oswiu had always been there at his side, wholeheartedly loyal, and now he felt that he was betraying him - not in deed, but definitely in thought. It didn’t help that the girl kept giving him coquettish looks before looking down demurely. She had definitely been flirting with him ever since he arrived.

  Oswiu had solved the problem of his own concubine by marrying her off to Jarlath. That was another of Oswald’s problems: whether or not he loved Keeva, he needed to marry and produce an heir; he discounted Œthelwald as he just couldn’t see him as a successful ruler. He was now thirty-one and his next son would need to grow up and earn himself a reputation if the Witan was to consider him seriously as a contender. He knew that Cynegils had a daughter, Cyneburga, who was twelve and he had a vague notion of asking for the girl’s hand if he could forge an alliance with her father against Mercia.

  Of course, this had nothing to do with romantic feelings, unlike Oswiu who was definitely in love with his prospective bride. It was purely political, and it was another reason for his growing jealousy of Oswiu. He sighed. If he continued to think like this he would not only drive himself into depression but probably lose his brother’s support as well, something he could not afford to do.

  They had only a minute or two to wait until the bride entered on the arm of her father. She was wearing a light blue woollen overdress with short sleeves over her white linen underdress. The neck was trimmed in the fur of an ermine and the cuffs were embroidered with gold and silver wire. Around her neck she wore a gold chain with a cross and, around her waist, a gold embroidered leather belt, worn loosely with the tongue hanging down about a foot or so. As a woman about to be married, she wore a white linen wimple and a circlet of gold to proclaim her royal status. Despite the fact that her long dark hair was hidden, she looked beautiful.

  Oswald and Oswiu were dressed more modestly. Both wore light woollen tunics with simple embroidery around the neck, a plain leather belt from which hung a short dagger, woollen trousers tied below the knee with ribbons worn in a criss-cross pattern, plain leather shoes and, in Oswald’s case, a circlet of gold around his head. Most of the nobles present were dressed similarly.

  In contrast the King of Rheged was dressed as richly as his daughter. His tunic was of crimson linen, embroidered at both neck and cuffs in gold wire, and he wore a bright blue cloak held in place by a large gold and enamel brooch. Contrary to custom, he wore a sword, rather than a small dagger, with a leather scabbard dyed red. The gold circlet on his head was twice the size of Oswald’s and it was encrusted with jewels.

  ‘You seem to be marrying a peacock’s daughter, brother,’ Oswald whispered and Oswiu had difficulty in not laughing.

  ‘In truth, I don’t know which is the prettier,’ he replied.

  The exchange seemed to lighten Oswald’s mood and the rest of the proceedings went without too much of a hitch. Of course, there were quite a few instances of drunkenness at the feast that followed but there were few brawls and only one man got seriously wounded.

  ‘How soon can you be ready to leave?’ Oswald asked a rather bleary-eyed Eochaid the next morning.

  ‘What? You want to leave so soon? My men and I are just starting to enjoy ourselves.’

  It wasn’t like Eochaid to be belligerent towards him and he realised that his friend was still drunk.

  ‘I didn’t say I wanted to leave now. I asked when you would be ready.’

  He too was in a testy mood. He’d had quite enough of watching his brother and his young bride billing and cooing at each other.

  ‘Oh, sorry. I’ve got a thumping headache and I think I’m going to be sick.’

  Oswald sighed. It looked as if it might be a day or two yet.

  Four days later the crews of the two birlinns had recovered sufficiently to be able to face the swell of the sea without examining the contents of their stomachs too often. Oswald had asked Alaric, his elderly steersman, to see if he could recruit enough men locally to crew the three pontos and he had gathered enough volunteers to be able to crew twice as many. They were mainly untried youths and old men who wanted to escape their wives for a while and embark on one last adventure.

  Oswald didn’t imagine that the three smaller boats would be much help if they ran into trouble on the way down past Ireland, the Isle of Man and Cymru, but at least five boats would look too large a naval force for most pirates to tackle. In the event it proved to be a trouble free journey and even the weather was benign. Five days after they had set out they sailed between a large island and the mainland before turning north to enter the wide inlet that led to Hamwic. Oswald was fortunate that Alaric had been here before or otherwise he doubted if they would ever have found the trading port.

  The arrival of five fighting ships caused some initial consternation, but fortunately the local thegn had been warned by Cynegils to expect the King of Northumbria. Just as dusk was falling they reached Win
tan-ceastre and were welcomed by Cynegils, his rather plain wife, his two sons, Cwichhelm and Cenwalh, and his daughter Cyneburga.

  Oswald’s heart sank because Cyneburga evidently took after her mother and not her rather handsome father. It was at that moment he decided that, even if he had to marry this girl to cement the alliance, he would keep Keeva as his lover. He couldn’t imagine that he’d get much pleasure out of bedding this unattractive infant. It made him even more envious of Oswiu.

  ~~~

  At the feast in his honour that evening Oswald was amused to see that he had been seated between the king and his daughter, rather than his wife – called the Lady of Wessex and not the queen for some reason. She had been placed between Eochaid and the eleven year old Cwichhelm on the other side of the king.

  To his surprise he found out that the girl was not only well-educated, but she also had a wicked sense of humour and whispered derogatory remarks to Oswald about most of the nobles seated around them. He decided that he was beginning to like her and started to go out of his way to make her like him too.

  Although none of the family had yet been baptised, she told him that she was Bishop Birinus’ most diligent student. Cwichhelm wasn’t really interested and was becoming a Christian merely to please his father. Cenwalh was too young to really understand what it all meant.

  ‘He really isn’t very bright anyway,’ she confided to Oswald. ‘Mother still treats him like a baby and he behaves like one as a result.’

  ‘And are your parents likely to prove good Christians?’ he asked, trying to appear disinterested.

  ‘That’s not something you should really ask me,’ she replied disapprovingly, ‘unless, of course, you intend me to be your wife.’

  Oswald was taking a gulp of mead at the time and spluttered, spraying most of it over the table.

  ‘What did you just say?’

  ‘I don’t think that there is anything wrong with your hearing, not yet anyway.’

  He laughed. ‘You’re not shy about saying what’s on your mind are you? What do you feel about it?’