Eadfrith stood rubbing his wrists, looking up and down the line of men in front of him, searching for faces he knew. There were none he could see, but simply being on the land he had known as boy and man gave his heart ease.
“Speak,” said Penda.
Eadfrith bent down and placed his hand upon the ground. He felt the grass, the rich soft grass of spring.
“Speak,” said Penda.
Eadfrith stood, and calmly, steadily, he began to walk towards his home.
“Speak!”
Eadfrith did not look round. He did not run. He spoke no word. He was going home.
Penda looked to Eowa; nodded. His brother swept forward on his horse and struck the back of Eadfrith’s head heavy and fast with the hilt of his sword. The man dropped, and Eowa leapt from his horse and threw Eadfrith over the animal. Penda pushed his own horse forward, as a growl, feral and ferocious, came from the men watching in the shieldwall.
“That worked well,” said Eowa as they retreated back to their own line. “I said you should never have kept him alive.”
Penda stared at him, his eyes cold. “If you have any ideas of how we can survive this, tell me. Otherwise, shut up.”
“I advised against this attack.”
“And I will kill you – if we live – if you do not shut up.”
But before Eowa could answer, a shout went up from their own line. The brothers turned to see two men, under flag of truce, advancing from Oswald’s battle line. Above them circled a raven.
“They want to talk,” said Penda. “Maybe we can get out of this after all.” He turned to his brother. “Take Eadfrith back and then come to join me. I will go to speak to them. Give orders: if they kill me, make sure Eadfrith’s throat is cut before battle begins.”
Then Penda dismounted and went alone to meet the two men.
Chapter 6
“Tell me again why we are doing this.” Oswiu spoke without taking his eyes from the man approaching them.
“To save the lives of our men and to save the life of our cousin,” said Oswald. Above them, Bran croaked mournfully. Oswald looked up and laughed. “I am sorry, old friend, but I would not have you feast today.”
“We have twice the men he has; ours are rested and eager; it will be an easy fight.”
Oswald shook his head. “Men without hope sell their lives dearly, and it will be the blood of our men that buys them. If we can gain victory another way, I will take that victory.”
“Acca won’t like that much – no glorious deeds to sing about.”
“Bran is already cross; but many children will give thanks to have their fathers return to them.” Oswald checked to see how far they had come. “We will wait here. Let him come to us.”
Oswiu pointed. “There’s another coming from their line.”
“I wondered why Penda came alone.”
“Do you think the man they paraded in front of us really was Eadfrith?”
“I had not thought he could yet live. But men who knew him said it was indeed Eadfrith.”
“Then why did he not speak? There are still many in Deira who would wish an Yffing as king.”
“Maybe he would not speak for Penda. By the look of him, Eadfrith has been ill used.”
“Penda would have offered him his life and freedom if he could peel some of our men away from us,” said Oswiu.
“Then let us try to earn it for him ourselves,” said Oswald.
Oswiu looked at his brother. “Do you think that wise? Eadfrith has claim, true claim, to the throne of Deira and Northumbria. Do we really want him back?”
Oswald turned to answer his brother. “Yes,” he said simply. “Do you not?”
“Of course. He is our cousin. But it might have been easier if he had died with his father and brother.”
“In truth, I agree. But Eadfrith is alive, and he spoke not against us, as his father raised no hand in our pursuit while we were in exile. Therefore, we will keep him that way.”
“Very well.” Oswiu nodded in front of them. “They will soon be here.”
The second man had caught up with Penda and they walked together towards the waiting brothers.
“Let us make ready,” said Oswald. He drew his sword, then thrust it, point down, into the earth beside him. Oswiu did the same.
Seeing their actions, the approaching men stopped and did likewise, leaving their swords quivering in the earth’s sheath.
The two groups of men stood some twenty yards apart, eyes fixed upon each other.
Oswald nodded and stepped forward, Oswiu by his side, and the two men they faced advanced, measuring step for step, until they stood facing each other, at equal distances from their swords.
“I am Oswald, Lamnguin, son of Æthelfrith, Iding, king of Bernicia, and son of Acha, Yffing, king of Deira.”
“Oswiu, brother to Oswald Lamnguin, warmaster.”
They waited in silence.
“Penda, king of Mercia.”
“Eowa, brother to Penda, warmaster.”
Silence again as the four men measured each other, eyes skilled at judging warriors marking each other for height and weight and strength of arm; for grace of movement and the bluster that masked fear.
“Why do you come into my land to make war upon me, Penda of Mercia?”
Penda stared at Oswald, then spat upon the ground.
“War is what kings do. Do you not know that, Oswald Lamnguin?”
“War is not all that I do. But I will answer war with war, sword with sword, cunning with cunning. Did you think to catch me unaware and unprepared?” Oswald indicated the men of the kings of the north. “They assured you they would meet you outside the gates of York. They have kept their word. But they kept their pledge with me as well, for the kings of the north have acknowledged me as king over them; they stand by me as I stand beside them.”
“Send them away. Then let us see who will win between us.”
“Would you have sent Cadafael away, if he had not left rather than fight his kin?”
“What do you want? You come forth to speak, but all I hear is your prattle.”
Oswald stared at Penda, his eyes narrowing. “I want to give you your life.”
“It is not yours to give.”
“Now it is.”
Penda’s eyes locked with Oswald’s. The two men fought with sight. Penda, teeth grinding, began to shake his head, but then the raven, Bran, descended in the darkness of its feathers and landed next to Oswald. It dipped its head towards the king of Mercia and croaked, its black eyes black fire.
The sight of the slaughter bird shook Penda’s gaze from Oswald. He stared at the raven, his face paling. Eowa looked at his brother, the tightening of his lips betraying his alarm.
Penda fought to stop himself swallowing, but he could not prevent a traitorous tongue flicking nervously over his lips. He turned his gaze back to Oswald, striving to ignore the raven, but the bird croaked again, its head turned up to the king, and Oswald bent down, extending his arm, and the bird climbed, forearm, elbow, upper arm, to his shoulder. It stood there, its black eyes upon Penda, and the king of Mercia saw again the bird of his dream stepping upon the bodies of the dead, stalking closer as he lay immobile under corpses.
Eowa laid his hand upon his brother’s arm. “We can live,” he said, whispering to his brother. “We can live. Give them what they want.”
“If we fight, many of your men will not return to their hearths,” said Penda.
“If we fight, none of your men will return home,” said Oswald.
He reached up and stroked a finger over the raven’s feathers. “Bran will take your eyes, Penda.”
The bird croaked, turning its head from side to side to see Penda the more clearly.
“What are your terms?”
Oswald nodded. “Good. Now we speak true. These are my terms, Penda of Mercia. Accept them and you and your men will live. Refuse, and when battle is over I will send the pigs from the city to eat your bodies.”
> Penda waved his hand. “A dead man is a dead man: food for fire or worm or beast. Think not to scare me with such.”
“Very well. Pledge yourself to me; take the new life that flows from the Holy Isle. Give up your captive, Eadfrith, to me. Hack from sword and buckle and shield the silver and gold and jewels. And give hostage to me, as surety of your faith. Those are my terms, Penda of Mercia. Accept them, and live.”
Penda made no answer. The silence grew between them.
“What is your answer?”
“I will give silver and gold and gems, but our swords I will not give over, lest you then slaughter us.”
“I did not ask for your weapons; only your wealth.”
“I will give pledge to you, never again to march against you, unless you march on me first.”
“I will not march on you without reason, Penda of Mercia. But what of the new life I offer you? Will you take that?”
“I – I would have further knowledge of that. Send to me such as might instruct us on this matter. But I may not go against the ways of our fathers without word to the witan of my people.”
“Very well. I will send to you one who will instruct you in these things, that you might understand and accept them.”
“You would have Eadfrith back? You would have another who might claim the throne?” There was a thread running through Penda’s question, a question within the question, but Oswald could not read what it asked.
“Yes, I would have him back,” he said.
“I will give him over to you. But not until we are horsed.”
“I would have him back now.”
“I will not give him until we are ahorse.”
“Then why should you give him?”
“Why should I not? What further use is he to me? He would not speak.”
Oswald thought a moment. “Very well.” He looked askance as he saw a thin smile, bleak and cold, cross Penda’s face. “What of the hostage?”
“Who will you have?”
Oswald pointed. “I will have him.”
And Penda turned to his brother.
Eowa stared at Oswald, then to his brother.
“No,” he said.
“As you advised, warmaster, I am giving them what they want.”
“No,” Eowa said.
Penda turned to Oswald and Oswiu. “Take him.”
Eowa leapt for his brother, hands reaching for his throat, but Penda stepped aside and Eowa tumbled past, falling over the foot that Penda stuck out. Before he could move and get back up, Penda was on him, pinning him with his knee and wrenching his arm behind his back.
“I’ll break your arm,” he whispered into Eowa’s ear. “Keep still. Listen.” His brother stopped struggling and lay still beneath him. Penda looked up to the two watching Northumbrians. “Get your swords and take him,” he said.
As Oswald and Oswiu retreated to where they had left their swords, they saw Penda bent over his brother, whispering urgently to him, but it seemed to do little to quiet him, for when they returned, Eowa was again struggling, like a boar caught in a net.
Penda hauled his brother to his feet, keeping the armlock upon him as he did so, and pushed him, struggling, towards the Northumbrians.
“Here, take him,” he said, and he pushed Eowa forwards, so he fell at their feet. He made to spring up, then fell back when he saw the two swords poised to pierce his flanks.
“Get up,” said Oswald. “Slowly.”
Eowa rose to his feet, but he gave no glance to the men into whose hands he had been placed as hostage. Instead, he glared back at his brother.
“I will kill you,” he said. “I will kill you and take your throne.”
Penda shook his head. “Remember the stories of our people, Eowa. Think on how the brothers Icel and Ine first claimed a throne here, and yet they fought in the end and Icel killed Ine. I should have known from that: one brother is enough for any kingdom.” Penda looked at Oswald and Oswiu. “I will leave Eadfrith by Ælberht’s oak, where the roads cross.” He turned to make his way back to his lines, then stopped and looked back. “Oh, I’ll take Eowa’s sword with me. I don’t suppose he will need it again.”
Eowa made to leap after him, but Oswiu struck out with the hilt of his sword and the man fell, his face smearing in the dirt. He looked back to Oswald.
“Are you sure about taking him hostage? Penda does not seem so sad to lose him.”
Oswald stared after the figure of the Mercian as he walked back to his battle line, calling orders as he went.
“Who else could we have asked for?” He turned to Oswiu. “If he cares not for his brother, who does he care for?”
Oswiu shrugged. “I do not know. But brother, we have won a victory, a great victory, with no blood, much gold and even greater glory. For when the news of this goes out to the thrones and kingdoms in the land, they will stand amazed that you defeated Penda of Mercia with not so much as a sword raised.”
“We.”
“Pardon?”
“We defeated Penda, Oswiu. Not I alone, and with you also our allies: the kings of the north and the kings of the East Angles.”
“We then. We defeated Penda.”
But Oswald stared after the Mercian. As he stood among his men giving orders, he did not seem like a man defeated, but rather one retreating. Still, he had won all he could on the day without drawing sword.
“We’d better send some men for the hack silver. They are not to move until it has been delivered.” Oswald pointed to Eowa, lying on the ground. “Let’s get him back.” Sheathing their swords, the two men grabbed Eowa under the arms and dragged him to the waiting battle line.
*
“Now that is what I call a victory!” Rhoedd of Rheged stood over the pile of hack silver laid out on the ground in front of them in the tent that had been set up for the kings while they waited the spoils. He bent down and pushed his hands into the pile as a man puts his hand into water, and then broke the surface, the silver cascading from his skin as water from a leaping fish. He laughed and scooped up more silver, throwing it in the air. He looked up to where Oswald and Oswiu stood looking down at the great hoard of hack silver.
“It was a good day when my daughter married you!” he said. Then turning to the other men standing around the hoard, Rhoedd pointed at Oswald. “I married my daughter to his brother, and see what it’s brought me. You’ve got daughters, he’s still not married; what are you waiting for?”
“Will you set about dividing the spoils?” Oswald asked Rhoedd.
“I would speak with these others yet awhile.”
Rhoedd grinned, and pushed his hands into the pile once more.
“Have you ever noticed? Silver is cool, like water, on the skin, but gold is warm, as sun and a woman’s skin.”
“I will leave some men to help you.”
“Oswiu?”
Oswald spotted his brother making frantic “no” gestures behind Rhoedd’s back.
“No, I will have need of him. We must follow the Mercians when they leave, and ensure they do as promised.”
“And you’ve got to pick up that other ætheling too.” Rhoedd leered at Oswald. “Where’s Penda leaving him?”
“Ælberht’s oak. Where the roads cross.”
“A good place.” Rhoedd turned back to the hoard. “Let me not keep you from your speaking; do not keep me from my treasure.”
Oswald signed a few men to help – and watch – Rhoedd while he divided the hack silver and gold and gems. He turned to the rest.
“Come,” he said, holding out his arm.
They followed him from the tent. The men who had brought the hack silver from Penda were making their way back to his battle line. The men there had already formed into line, ready to march back to the waiting horses. The men of Rheged, the sons of the Lords of the Isles and some of the Northumbrians watched them from horseback, ready to shadow the Mercians as they marched back to their horses.
“It was indeed a great victory.”
Oswald turned to the man who had spoken. He was older, and his hair was grey and gold, but he had the air that sometimes accompanied a man of many battles, Oswald noted: the sadness of comrades lost and the knowledge that the only thing worse than a battle won was a battle lost.
“It would not have been possible without you, Sigeberht of the East Angles.”
“I do not think I and the few men I brought with me made much difference here.”
“It was the knowledge that he faced so many kings, united, that persuaded Penda to give up his silver and gold, and to pledge allegiance to me.”
“As have the rest of us, Oswald; as have the rest of us. But do you think his pledge will hold?”
“Honestly? No. But now he knows better how many kings stand ranged against him, he will think more carefully, much more carefully, before bringing war to any of us.”
“That is as I believe.” Sigeberht fell silent for a while as they watched the Mercians making their way back towards the waiting horses. He turned to Oswald. “And it gives me hope. Now I am here, I will tell you of something I have given much thought on, for I would have your counsel.”
Oswald turned to the king beside him. “Let us go away from here, that we may speak on this without ears to hear.” He called Oswiu to him. “Go with the riders; follow Penda from our kingdom. I will follow when I have finished speaking with Sigeberht.” Then, taking the king by the arm, he led him down to the river.
“What would you speak on, Sigeberht? I have known you but a few days, when first you came to pledge allegiance to me, and then this time when you answered my call, yet already I call you friend.”
The king of the East Angles looked over the glittering water.
“When I was a boy, I would hear the tales of war and battle in my father’s hall, and that was all I wished for: glory and honour, and the scops to sing my praise while I lived and to lament me when I died. But then I came to know war, to know it for what it is.” He turned to Oswald. “And it seems to me that if we did not sing songs and raise praise, it would be a thing too terrible for any man to face. So the scops sing deeds and we tell tales, and these are the lies we tell ourselves, that we may face battle when it comes and not shame ourselves. So I became known as a warrior and, after Rædwald’s death, a king. So all that I had dreamed as a boy, and more, I had achieved. But I cared not for it.” Sigeberht sighed. “It is a terrible thing, Oswald, to gain all glory and praise and riches, and to want none of it. Then news came to me. In the old estate of the king, there was a building raised in honour to a new god, and I sought to know more of this god. I see the same hope in you.”
Oswald: Return of the King Page 31