“I have a new lord. One who is always faithful. I would not bow to another.”
“Did he come to your aid when you called upon him in battle just now?”
Sigeberht looked surprised. “Of course he did.”
“But you lost.”
“No, I have won.”
“What do you mean, you have won?”
“I prayed for the strength to keep my vow, to raise no sword, to be worthy of him who gave no stroke against his killers, and he answered my prayers.”
“Those are not the prayers I want answered.”
“You should.” Sigeberht stared at Penda, and the Mercian saw upon his face an expression he had not witnessed for so long that at first he could not place it. Then he knew it for what it was. Pity and compassion.
“You would know peace,” said Sigeberht. “You would be free of the fear that devours you.”
“I am not afraid!”
“We are all afraid. Death takes, when it will, young and old, strong and weak, king and slave. Glory fades, deeds are forgotten. In a generation, who will remember our names? There is no hope in the old ways, Penda. But there is hope in the new ways; a hope of life, a hope in death, a hope even in defeat.” Sigeberht held out his arms to Penda. “Take this hope, embrace it, and live.”
The king stood staring at Sigeberht, and it was as if he was a ghost, for the blood drained from his face, and his hands shook. Terrible emotions ran through his eyes. Upon his form there appeared the shadows of the boy he once was and the man he had become, and they warred with each other.
Then, as Penda remained poised upon the point of his life, balanced, Brother Diuma, finally free of the man who had been detailed to keep guard on him through the battle, came running to him, calling on the king to spare Abbot Sigeberht. But as Penda turned towards the approaching man, Wihtrun came behind Sigeberht, none marking him, and he seized Sigeberht’s hair and pulled his head back and ran his seax across his throat. As the abbot fell to his knees, hands to his neck, his eyes glazing, Wihtrun turned to Penda.
“The old ways are best. Cleave to them, and you will win many victories.”
Penda stared at him. “Have you seen this?”
“I have seen this,” said Wihtrun.
Abbot Sigeberht, the thread holding his will to his muscles breaking, fell upon his face.
Brother Diuma went on his knees beside the abbot, but the man was dead. He turned to Penda, holding Sigeberht’s body in his arms.
“You promised to spare him,” he cried.
Penda looked down upon him.
“I will cleave to the old ways,” he said.
“I will follow my fathers in this life, and feast alongside them in the next.”
“You will feast in hell,” said Brother Diuma.
“So be it.”
Wihtrun approached Brother Diuma, seax in hand, but Penda shook his head.
“It is time he returned to his own people,” he said.
*
They found Brother Diuma upon the battlefield. He was kneeling beside the body of Abbot Sigeberht, with the abbot’s staff beside him and his eyes closed. As Oswald approached, he saw Brother Diuma sway, as if sleep was about to claim him, then, at the sound of Oswald’s foot squelching into mud, Brother Diuma snapped awake and swung the abbot’s long staff at him. It was only due to the fact that Diuma was upon his knees and Oswald on his feet that the blow missed, and Diuma was on the point of swinging again, when he finally heard Oswald’s voice and he dropped the staff and, still on his knees, shuffled towards the king.
“You came,” he cried, all but grasping Oswald’s knees in the extremity of his joy. “You came at last.”
Oswald bent down and helped the monk to his feet. Diuma stood swaying in front of him, the words babbling from his mouth.
“I have not slept for four days,” he said. “First I buried the dead, then the last three days and nights I have been standing watch over the body of Abbot Sigeberht, protecting it.”
“Protecting him from what?” asked Oswald.
“Those who would take holy relics from his body.” Diuma pointed to where the earth was scraped away in a bowl-shaped depression. “They dig the earth from where he fell, and if I had not been here, they would have rendered him limb from limb. Already, when my back was turned or, God forgive me, I slept, they have taken three of his fingers and a toe, but no more. Now you are here, no more.” Diuma stumbled and Oswald held him up.
“Who is taking relics?”
“Everyone.” Diuma peered around blearily, as if seeing relic hunters hiding behind each tree. “All the people knew him to be a holy man and a king, and now he has died a martyr’s death, they all seek his blessing and a piece of him for their own.”
“We will take him back to his monastery. The brothers will care for him there. But as for the rest of this…” Oswald looked around the battlefield. Although Diuma had buried most of the bodies, still a few men lay scattered about it, and the debris of battle littered the field. “For the rest of this, Penda will pay.”
Chapter 6
“Will you take the new god – my God?” Oswald asked the question of Eowa.
The Mercian, leaning over the side of the boat as it entered the mouth of the Humber, did not turn round, but said, “This… may not be the best time to ask.” His shoulders heaved, and there came the characteristic sound of retching.
“I must have answer before we come to land,” said Oswald. “For if you will, then I will make you king in Mercia.”
Eowa turned to him. He was still pale, but the nausea that had settled upon him through their journey up the coast from the Great Fen had of a sudden left him.
“How?”
“By battle, if needs be. But that would leave you a poor kingdom, with few thegns to call upon in its defence. However, I do not believe that will be necessary. From what Brother Diuma has been telling me, there is little love for Penda among the thegns of Mercia; he is no Iclinga, and they accept him as king only because there is no one else. We will give them someone else. We will give them you; if you will accept baptism.”
“But how will you bring this about? My brother will fight you and he is a skilful warrior and a deadly one, as Ecgric would testify if he yet lived.”
“Now is the time to act. I will summon all my allies, in particular all those that lie about Mercia, and we will march upon the kingdom together, in such numbers that all will see the hopelessness of battle. But as we march, I shall send messengers summoning the witan of Mercia in your name, with promise of safety for all who attend; for you are ætheling and have such right. Then you shall speak, and offer yourself to the witan as king in place of Penda, with the promise also that I, and all my allies, will withdraw once you are king.”
“And what of my brother, if the witan takes me as king?”
“That would be for you, and it, to decide.”
“And for this you would have me follow your god in place of the gods of my fathers?”
“Yes.”
Eowa smiled. “I do not feel sick any longer,” he said.
*
Aidan turned to Oswald. They sat at the baptismal feast for Eowa, in Oswald’s hall in York. The Mercian, clad in baptismal white, received with broad smiles the gifts that were laid at his feet.
“Your brother and Princess Rhieienmelth did not come?”
“They sent word. My son took ill, and they thought it best not to travel. But they have sent gifts.” Oswald paused, looking north towards the distant hills of Bernicia where his brother was. “He is not coming when we march against Penda. He said there is unrest among the Gododdin and the Picts; he said he will guard the marches.”
“Your brother means you no ill, Oswald,” said Aidan.
“I have seen how affairs worked out between Penda and Eowa.”
“Oswiu is not Eowa, and you are not Penda.”
“That is true. But I have seen little of my brother these past two years.”
“A
nd he has seen less of you. Mayhap he fears you turn against him.”
Oswald turned to Aidan. “He knows I would not do that.”
“Does he?” Aidan paused. “But that is not what I would speak of now.” He nodded towards Eowa. “I have baptized him, but I fear that he does not understand that which he has entered into.”
“Did any of us?” Oswald smiled. “I know I did not.”
“That is true. But I am concerned that Eowa has sought baptism to gain a throne and for no other reason.”
“He has.” Oswald looked at the Mercian, still receiving the blessings and congratulations of the Northumbrian thegns. “He would as cheerfully swim the Ouse in winter. My hope is that while the river would dry from his skin, the water of baptism will enter his soul.” He turned back to Aidan. “At the very least, this will mean a king favourable to our faith upon the throne in Mercia.”
“True. But Penda, though he is pagan, still permitted Brother Diuma to preach in Mercia.”
“For a while. Long enough for him to learn much of the kingdom, but not long enough for him to win any to the faith.”
Eowa, having received the blessings of Oswald’s thegns and retainers, turned to the high table and came to stand before the High King and Bishop Aidan. He made the courtesy to them.
“While yet your hostage, you have set me free,” he said.
Oswald glanced at Aidan, to see what he made of Eowa’s comment, but the monk stayed looking at the Mercian.
“Now, though it seems I have no right to ask more of you, I have one further request of you both.”
“What do you ask of us?” said Oswald.
“When I return to Mercia and sit upon its throne, I ask that I may take with me Brother Diuma, who already has knowledge of my people and their ways, that he may preach the new faith to my people and bring them to its light.” Eowa looked to them. “What say you, my lord and my bishop?”
“For myself, I would be right glad,” said Oswald, “but in this matter we must ask Bishop Aidan, for he is Brother Diuma’s lord.”
“If he is willing then I am willing.”
Eowa made the courtesy to them both again.
“I thank thee,” he said. “I thank thee, beloved lords of heart and soul.” Then, turning to Acca, he cried, “A song! A song for my feast.”
As the scop began strumming the lyre, Oswald took the chance to speak to Aidan further.
“Mayhap the Spirit has indeed entered into him. I have not seen Eowa in such light before.”
“I trust that this be so.” Aidan gazed at him, and his eyes were narrow. “At least there will be word of what he does from Brother Diuma.”
“Eowa must know that too. Mayhap he seeks to allay our fears.”
Aidan nodded. “It is a start.”
*
The columns of riders, coming from north and south and east, rode into Mercia, converging upon the great palace of the kings at Tamworth. The armies of Northumbria, of Wessex, of the remnants of the East Angles, and the men of the East Saxons rode against Mercia, accompanied by small parties sent by the kings of the north, riding with Oswald. And as they came, horsemen shadowed them from hilltop and forest, watching, sending word, but making no move against them. Oswald rode at the forefront of the men of Northumbria, with Bran sometimes upon his shoulder and sometimes upon his saddle, but most often flying above, circling the column and announcing their arrival upon the wind. With Oswald rode Bassus, warmaster, and Eowa, and wherever they stopped, at farm or hamlet or village, they proclaimed Eowa king to the people who stood silently watching, waiting beside plough and loom, and none gainsaid his kingship nor opposed their progress. Messages were sent to the great men of the kingdom, the men whose halls dotted the land, nestled in valleys or stark upon ridgetops, proclaiming Eowa king and summoning them to witan in Tamworth, and as the columns progressed they saw, riding before them, the concentration of the men of Mercia into the ever decreasing circle made by their advance.
“I do not think he is going to fight.” Bassus rode up beside Oswald. Scouts had brought word that over the next rise the way to Tamworth lay open, with the great hall gleaming gold by the riversmeet, where it rose upon its high platform. Their sharp eyes told further that the compound around the hall, surrounded by ditch and high fence, seethed with men and horses, like an ant nest poked by boys bent on mischief, but no ambushes or traps waited.
“That was the idea,” said Oswald. His eyes narrowed. “It seems to be working; mayhap too well.”
“Word has come from Cynegils: he approaches from the south without opposition. So too report the East Saxons and the East Angles.”
Oswald nodded, then looked to his warmaster. “Have you ever known a plan proceed so well, Bassus?”
“No. But there must needs be a first time for everything. Mayhap this is the first time war goes to plan.”
“I trust it not. Penda would not go so quietly to defeat.”
“But has ever a king assembled so great a host in these lands?”
As Bassus spoke, they breasted the crest of the hill and saw before them the great bowl of land, crossed by the rivers Anker and Tame, in which lay the great hall of the kings of Mercia. And advancing upon it from south and west, riding down the further hill slopes, were more columns of riders, looking at such distance like dark snakes upon the hillsides, dark save for the fire glitter of sunlight on spear point and armour.
“Not since the days of the emperors,” said Oswald. “My uncle had a standard bearer advance before him bearing the tufa as symbol of his power and authority. We must recover it from Penda and ride behind it in future.”
“How do you know Cadwallon did not take it?”
“It was not among the treasures we recovered from his army. He sent little back to Gwynedd, no doubt fearing others might use it in his absence, and he would have kept such a sign with him had he taken it.”
“But he was lord to Penda; Cadwallon would not have passed it to Penda.”
Oswald nodded. “You are right. I wonder. Maybe my uncle’s wife took it with her when she went into exile. It would be a token for her son.”
“He died, did he not?”
“Yes. Far from home, among the Franks.” Oswald shook his head. “How often we die far from our own lands. Maybe Æthelburh has the tufa still, and it is raised among the Franks across the Narrow Sea. Still, we will talk on this later. Now, we must deal with Penda.” Heeling his horse, Oswald urged it on, down the hill towards the distant gleaming hall, and his men streamed behind him.
*
“I make this…” Bassus paused to count upon his fingers “…fifty days.” He lifted his hood to peer suspiciously up at the sky. In the west, tears of blue appeared among tattered grey trailers of cloud, but above their heads the rain still fell, dripping off the wax-soaked hood onto his face. Around the camp, men took what shelter they could in tents and makeshift shelters made from poles of willow and alder and lashed bundles of rushes, while the horses stood flank to flank and steaming.
“My brother is a stubborn man,” said Eowa. “And a cunning one. He thinks to outwait us, so while we advanced upon his hall, he stripped the land about bare of food, that we might starve while we waited.”
“Just as well we thought of that, then,” said Bassus, pointing through the mist of rain to the boat rowing upriver, set to join the other vessels moored up beside the camp. It would be bringing supplies: food for men and horses alike, loaded from the royal estates that lay upon the river routes from the Humber and the Tyne. “When I say we, it was the king who thought on this; I was certain it would all be over by now: a march, a battle, a king.” Bassus shrugged. “I was wrong.”
“I wish you had not been wrong,” said Oswald, shaking the rain from his cloak as he stepped inside the tent. At least the drumming upon the roof was lessening, suggesting that the break in weather presaged by the clearing western skies would soon arrive. “But I feared you might be. Penda is not one to do what we want. But I do not thi
nk we shall have long to wait now.” Oswald turned and gestured a man into the tent.
“Sidrac!” Eowa rose from his stool as the man, grizzled and scarred in the manner of an experienced warrior, entered.
Sidrac went down upon one knee in front of Eowa.
“Lord,” he said, bowing his head and offering up his hand.
Eowa took it and, holding it, looked to Oswald and Bassus.“This is Sidrac, one of the great thegns of Mercia. He holds a hundred hides of land upon this bank of the Severn, another hundred at watersmeet, and more throughout the kingdom.” Eowa, by his glance to the two other men, indicated how important a matter this was. “What reason brings you from the king’s side, Sidrac? If my brother should gain knowledge of this, he would surely kill you, and like as not it would not be a pleasant death.”
“I would have met death, and willingly, at your brother’s side if he had done as I urged, as we all urged, and come forth to meet you in battle when you first set siege upon us.” Sidrac looked up at Eowa. “But he would not come forth, telling us to let hunger and disease wreak havoc upon your armies first. But now nigh two months have passed, and it is we who starve, and shiver with fever, so that we bare have strength to stand, let alone fight, and yet Penda will hear no counsel from his witan.” Sidrac looked around, to Oswald and Bassus. “If you had come to put upon the throne an outsider, a Northumbrian or a West Saxon, we would have fought you, however weak we were. But Eowa has as much claim to the throne as Penda, and all men say how he accepted the terms of the last peace, and offered himself as hostage for us. So now I offer myself for you, as messenger to the witan. Will you be our king, and hold true to the thegns of Mercia who are ready to give you this throne?”
Eowa looked to Oswald, then back to Sidrac.
“I will.”
The thegn bent over the hands holding his own and kissed them, then rose to his feet.
“We will have a new king,” he said.
“Hold.” Oswald held up his hand. “What of Penda? He will not accept such actions, even should the whole witan turn against him, and I wager there will be some who keep pledge with him.”
Oswald: Return of the King Page 39