by H A CULLEY
‘I didn’t want to tell you until I was certain, but I’m sure now that I’m expecting our first child.’
‘Really? That’s great news! Do you know when it’s expected?’
‘You mother thinks it will be born in the late summer.’
‘My mother? You told her first?’
‘Yes, of course. I needed to be certain that’s what my symptoms were.’
‘Symptoms?’ Oswiu was about to ask what they were, then thought better of it.
‘I wasn’t vomiting because I’d drunk too much wine the night before.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, I don’t really, but never mind.’
He had a vague idea that Fianna had been sick quite a lot when she’d been pregnant too.
She laughed. ‘Perhaps it’s just as well you’ve going away for a while.’
‘I’ll miss you. I’d rather be here.’
‘Perhaps. But you’d soon get bored and then you’d be insufferable and I wouldn’t have the patience to deal with you and pregnancy. No, come back when it’s all over; but make sure you come back in one piece.’
‘I’ll try to.’
He smiled, kissed her and left without looking back.
~~~
‘It’s a lot further to climb than the rock at Bebbanburg,’ Sigbert muttered as he, Domangart and Raulf looked at Dùn Èideann sitting on top of the biggest outcrop of rock that they had ever seen.
Oswiu’s army had encamped around it that afternoon after laying waste the land surrounding the fortress.
‘There are easier approaches, one of them is quite a gentle slope,’ Raulf pointed out.
‘Yes, but Oswiu wants us to scale this one,’ Domangart replied, ‘and I can see why. The Goddodin sentries will feel themselves safe up there, whereas they might well expect an attack up the gentler slopes.’
‘Well, I still think it’s a long climb.’
‘At least it’s sunny now and it’s close to a new moon tonight, so we can relax for a day or two,’ Sigbert added.
‘You might be able to, but I’ve got to look after his horses, sharpen his sword and make him something to eat before I can get any sleep.’
‘Don’t worry, we’ll give you a hand, won’t we Sigbert?’
‘Of course. You can make us something to eat when you prepare Prince Oswiu’s meal in return.’
It stayed fine for the next two days but then it started to cloud over on the third day. However, it rained that night and so it still wasn’t possible to launch the attack.
‘You seem very eager to get the assault on the fortress started,’ Cynhelm said.
He’d joined Oswiu from Dùn Barra with his warband and had been invited to eat with the prince in his tent. Raulf appeared and poured more wine in both their goblets before disappearing again.
‘He’s my secret weapon, well him and two other boys.’ Oswiu said when they were alone again.
‘What do you mean?’
‘They’re going to scale the steepest part of the rock and lower ropes down for the assault party to climb up. The trouble is the conditions need to be correct. We need a cloudy night and the rock has to be dry.’
‘Why are you telling me all this? No, don’t reply, let me guess. You want me to lead the assault party.’
‘It seems you know me only too well.’
‘You’d better tell me your plan in detail then.’
Three nights later the conditions were perfect. It was overcast but dry and there was practically no wind. The only problem was sound; it carried a long way on a quiet night. The three boys made their way cautiously to the base of the rock and started to climb. Each had a thin cord tied around his waist with which to haul up the rope ladders once they had reached the top of the parapet and killed the sentries. In addition Domangart, the biggest of the boys, had a short length of rope ladder in a satchel on his back.
The three climbed steadily up the rock. They were each meant to follow a separate pitch but at one point Sigbert couldn’t find any decent holds and so he moved over to climb below Raulf. It was a good job he did as the latter’s foot slipped off a rounded protrusion in the rock and Sigbert was able to grab it with his free hand.
They reached the narrow grassy ledge at the top of the rock without further incident, but Raulf was promptly sick; no doubt in reaction to nearly plummeting to his death.
‘’Shhh,’ Domangart said so quietly that he could hardly be heard.
‘Sorry, I thought I was going to die,’ he whispered back.
‘You will be if you don’t shut up.’
He and Raulf cupped their hands together and Sigbert, taking the satchel from Domangart, put his foot into their hands. He straightened his leg as they lifted him up so that he could reach the top of the palisade. Quickly pulling the short length of rope ladder from the satchel he put the two end loops over the pointed tops of two upright timbers and did a quick scan for any sentries.
At first he couldn’t see any, than he heard voices and he saw two men standing at the far end of the walkway. He couldn’t see any others so he used his free foot to tap Domangart on the shoulder. The other two lowered him back down. However, as he put his feet down on the grass again his left foot slipped in Raulf’s pile of vomit and it slid over the edge.
Thankfully Domangart was quick witted enough to grasp his shoulder to steady him.
‘Thanks,’ the boy muttered quietly as he broke out in a cold sweat.
Not waiting for him to recover from his shock the other two pushed him towards the rope ladder and he started to climb up it, quickly followed by Domangart and then Raulf. At the top he slid over the top of the palisade and lay in the shadow between the walkway and the palisade trying to quieten his ragged breathing. A second or two later the others joined him.
‘Where are the sentries?’ Domangart asked in a hushed whisper.
Sigbert pointed to where he’d seen the two men, but they weren’t there anymore. He hastily looked around for them and saw one about a hundred yards away leaning on the parapet and gazing out over the surrounding countryside. He taped Domangart on the shoulder and pointed. The other boy nodded and whispered in his ear ‘where’s the other one?’
No sooner had he asked when they heard the unmistakeable sound of someone taking a piss below them. Evidently the other man had gone down the ladder to relieve himself against the bottom of the palisade. The boys managed to resist the temptation to giggle and Domangart gestured for Sigbert to take care of the man gazing into the distance whilst he and Raulf dealt with the other sentry.
Sigbert tiptoed along the walkway with his dagger in his hand praying that none of the timber planks would squeak. When he was five yards away the man suddenly straightened up and turned to resume his walk along the parapet. It was fortunate that he’d turned away from the boy and Sigbert took his opportunity. The man was wearing a helmet so Sigbert couldn’t yank his head back by his hair. Instead he kicked him behind his right knee. As the man tried to keep his balance his legs bent sufficiently for Sigbert to reach his exposed neck and a moment later he’d slashed it open just as the sentry started to cry out.
The sound died in his throat and blood spurted out from his severed carotid arteries. With the blood supply to his brain cut off, the man collapsed onto the walkway with a thump.
‘What’s the matter Bain? You OK?’ the other sentry asked as his head appeared above the parapet as he climbed back up the ladder.
Domangart and Raulf were lying down on the walkway either side of the trapdoor through which the man’s head and shoulders had emerged. Raulf jabbed his dagger into the man’s mouth and up into his brain whilst the other boy reached down and grabbed his belt to prevent him tumbling back down the ladder.
Together they managed to haul him the rest of the way up onto the walkway, shut the trapdoor and rolled the corpse onto it to make it difficult for anyone else to come up that way. Then they collapsed from mental as well as physical exhaustion.
Five minutes later the three boys
had recovered sufficiently to lower the three lengths of twine they had around their waists down the rock face and a few minutes later they’d hauled up and secured the three rope ladders. The first head that appeared was that of Cynhelm. He grinned at the three boys and he clambered down onto the walkway.
‘Any problems?’
‘No, none at all,’ Domangart lied.
~~~
Owain of Strathclyde was unhappy. He glared balefully at the messenger and thought of having him killed for being the bearer of bad tidings. It wasn’t the unfairness of such an action that stopped him, it was the knowledge that other messengers would hesitate to come to him and his information would dry up.
The fall of Dùn Èideann and the subjugation of the Goddodin territory to the south of the Firth of Forth by Owsiu had been a severe blow. Now, instead of an ally along part of his eastern border, he had an enemy. With Rheged to the south and Bernicia along the rest of the eastern boundary he was unwilling to concentrate his forces against Dalriada to the north and west.
‘Has Oswiu remained at Dùn Èideann?’
The messenger cowered and muttered something.
‘Speak up man, where is he?’
‘He’s gone to Rheged, or so it is rumoured, Brenin.’
Owain mulled this additional piece of unwelcome news over for a moment.
‘Who has he left in charge at Dùn Èideann?’
‘I understand that it is Eorl Cynhelm.’
‘I see. I thought the bloody place was meant to be impregnable. How did the wretched Oswiu manage to capture it in just a few days?’
‘The story is, Brenin ….’ The man swallowed nervously. ‘Well, apparently a few boys climbed the steepest rock face, slew the sentries and lowered rope ladders. The fortress was full of Northumbrians before we knew what was happening.’
‘A few boys – are you certain? It sounds so improbable. Go on.’
‘Yes, Brenin. Well, they fought their way to the gates and, once they’d captured then, they let the rest of their army in. I barely managed to escape -’
‘Yes, thank you. I’m really not interested in how you managed to save your own skin. Any other dire news for me? No? Get out then.’
So far his invasion of Dalriada had gone well. He’d pressed forward into Glen Lochy, recovering the territory to the east of Loch Awe that his father had lost after his failed attempt to storm the Pass of Brander under the brooding bulk of Ben Cruachan, and he’d linked up with the Picts at the junction with Glen Orchy. Now it sounded as if he might have to abandon the invasion of the Dalriadan Kingdom of Lorne in order to protect his own orders in the south-east.
If only he knew what Oswiu was up to.
~~~
Oswald wished that Oswiu was with him. Penda had changed tactics. Now, instead of outright military aggression he had taken a more subtle path and was using pressure to put together what he was calling a Saxon Confederation.
‘What’s he trying to do?’ Durston asked.
Oswald had gone to visit Bishop Aidan on Lindisfarne and he’d been accompanied by Durston, Jarlath, Rònan and Cormac. They were sitting with Aiden and Ròidh in the newly built hall that served as both refectory and sleeping quarters for the monks, of which there were now nine plus a dozen novices.
Ròidh didn’t contribute much to the conversation but Oswald put his reticence down to the horrific time he’d had whilst a prisoner. When the Goddodin fortress had fallen Oswiu’s men had found Ròidh hanging in chains in a small hut which had evidently served as a prison. He’d been tortured, as evidenced by the burn marks all over his chest and legs, but he was alive.
‘You can stay here until you’re fit enough to return to Lindisfarne. I’ve already send a messenger to let Bishop Aidan know that you’re alive,’ Oswiu had told him at the time.
‘Thank you, Oswiu, but I want to get out of this accursed place as soon as I can. It has too many awful memories for me. I’ll try and find a fishing boat to take me down the coast.’
‘You’ll do no such thing! If you’re determined to return to the monastery I’ll arrange for a birlinn to take you. I need to send a messenger to my brother in any case.’
‘Thank you. I….’
Whatever it was Ròidh was about to say was lost as he dropped back into unconsciousness.
Now, after a prolonged stay in the infirmary on Lindisfarne, he was feeling much better and was nearly back to his old self. He still walked with the aid of a stick but he forced himself to go further and further each day, usually in the company of a novice just in case he had a relapse.
Aidan had tried to make Ròidh prior of the monastery but he had declined. He had no intention of becoming an administrator tied to one place. His role was to accompany Aidan when he toured the kingdom preaching and converting the people and that wasn’t about to change if he could help it.
‘I’d have thought that was obvious,’ Cormac said, responding to Durston’s question. ‘Sorry, that was rude of me. Presumably he’s trying to isolate Wessex?’
Oswald nodded. ‘Yes, and eventually built up a large enough army to challenge me.’
‘What will you do about it?’ Rònan asked.
Oswald sighed. ‘Wait until Oswiu returns from the north and then move to confront Penda. I daren’t risk embarking on a war with him with just the men I can raise from Deira, Elmet and Lindsey.’
‘Surely, if we wait we risk him taking over Hwicce? Jarlath said, looking puzzled.
‘Perhaps, at the moment Mercia to the north and Wessex to the east are both trying to take it over. The best we can hope for is that they will end up dividing it between them.’
‘How are things going against Strathclyde?’ Ròidh asked. ‘The last I heard Oswiu was making raids into the south east of the country to distract Owain from his war with Domnall.’
‘That seems to be working, up to a point. Owain has remained in the north but he’s sent his brother south with a sizeable force to confront Oswiu. Meanwhile he and the Picts are camped at Loch Awe. I’m sure that they won’t be so foolish as to try and force their way through the Pass of Brander again, not after what happened the last time.’
‘They might try and get around Ben Cruachan to the north,’ Aidan said thoughtfully.
‘Is that possible? Won’t they just find their way blocked by Loch Etive?’ Oswald asked.
‘Not if they go well to the north.’
‘But that will take them into the marshlands on the edge of Rannoch Moor.’
‘True, but if they link up with the Picts they’ll have guides who know the paths through the bogs.’
‘That’ll still leave them north of Loch Etive.’
Oswald thought whilst the others were silent, wondering what he was going through his mind.
‘That’s what Owain will do.’ He suddenly exclaimed. ‘He might be cut off from the main part of Dalriada but he can still ravage the northern half of Lorne and, if he can capture enough ships, he can even attack Mull and the outer isles.’
‘What is even more of a concern is that Iona will then be vulnerable.’ Aidan pointed out. ‘Owain hates Christians; nothing would give him greater pleasure than to destroy the monastery and kill all the monks.’
‘But many of my fellow Picts are Christians.’ Ròidh exclaimed. ‘Aidan and I baptised many of them ourselves. They would never allow it.’
‘They might not be in a position to prevent it,’ Aidan said quietly. ‘If Owain diverts them by suggesting that they complete the conquest of Lorne, he could attack Mull on his own, then cross the narrow Sound of Iona to the Holy Isle.’
‘You’re right! I must get a message to Oswiu. He’s too far away and has too few ships at Caer Luel to go to the aid of Domnall in time, but he could besiege Owain’s capital at Dùn Breatainn in the hope that will bring him south in a hurry. I must also warn Domnall.’
‘If you send a message directly to Fergus to save time, his fleet could prevent Owain from landing on Mull,’ Jarlath suggested.
‘Thank you, Jarlath, good idea.’
‘A brain as well as a pretty face,’ Cormac commented, drawing laughter from the others. Jarlath’s features had become more masculine as he’d grown older, but he still looked a lot like his sister, Keeva.
‘At least I don’t have a face that frightens small children.’
He grinned at Cormac, whose once handsome face was disfigured by a livid scar that ran cross his right cheek to his jaw. He had lost part of his upper lip as well, exposing his broken teeth and giving him a permanent leer.
‘At least it shows what an excellent fighter I am.’
‘No, it just shows that you were too slow in raising your shield,’ Durston said, to more laughter.
Oswald was glad that his companions were in good spirits but, although his smiled at the good-natured banter, he couldn’t stop thinking about the situation in Dalriada.
~~~
Fergus had been left behind by Domnall Brecc to guard Domnall’s own territory of Kintyre, Arran and Bute and Fergus’ Kingdom of Islay and the Isles. When he received the message from Oswald, brought by a currach from Caer Luel, he immediately sent for his sons, Caomh and Judoc. He showed them the message and waited for their reaction.
‘What do you propose to do father?’ Judoc asked.
His brother gave him a contemptuous glance.
‘I’d have thought that was obvious. We need to assemble as many craft manned with warriors as we can, and quickly. We can’t let that pagan devil, Owain, ravage Iona.’
‘I see.’ His father looked disappointed. ‘Of course we need to assemble a fleet, but what then? You both need to think this through logically, and stop trying to score points off each other. This isn’t a competition. I’m trying to teach you both something.’
‘We need to know where Owain is, in what strength and how many ships he has to ferry his army over to Mull.’
‘Well done Caomh, now you’re using the brain that God gave you.’
‘To do that we should send out our fastest birlinns to patrol Loch Linhe.’
‘Good, Judoch. Where in Loch Linhe would you use as a base if you were going to invade Mull?’