The Fall of the House of Æthelfrith

by H A CULLEY

  PART ONE - ECGFRITH

  Chapter One – The Disputed Throne

  Summer 670 AD

  The ealdorman’s hall sat on top of a gentle slope within its tall palisade on the rock overlooking the German Ocean. Today the wind was a strong breeze from the east with the occasional gust that whipped the white horses on top of the waves into streamers of spume.

  The sentry in the watch tower of the fortress known as Bebbanburg was relieving his boredom by letting his eyes feast on a pretty laundry girl as she carried the clean clothes she’d just dried up towards the hall. When she disappeared inside he reluctantly turned his gaze to check that no-one was approaching from the landward side before turning back to survey the empty grey sea.

  Except it wasn’t empty. From nowhere sails had appeared from over the horizon to the south east. He quickly counted them and made it seven but then he saw more behind them. He swore, blaming his own negligence on a pretty face and a pair of shapely breasts, before frantically ringing the alarm bell. He could now count twenty sails and so many ships could only mean trouble.

  The first man to reach him, panting from having run up the ladder to the platform at the top of the tower, was Ruaidhrí, his watch leader. He was a Hibernian prince who’d taken refuge in Northumbria when he was a boy. His half-brother and he were rivals to inherit the throne of the Ulaidh in Ulster and their father feared for his life had he stayed there. In the end his brother also had to flee when the leader of a different clan of the Ulaidh seized the throne upon their father’s death.

  Ruaidhrí was closely followed by Catinus, the Ealdorman of Bebbanburg, and Eadstan, his military commander.

  Ruaidhrí had opened his mouth and was about to say ‘Why did you sound the alarm?’ when he saw the fleet heading towards them.

  ‘Alchfrith,’ hissed Catinus.

  ‘Are you sure, lord?’ Eadstan asked.

  ‘Who else? We know he was putting together an invasion force to challenge Ecgfrith for the throne.’

  ‘But why here?’

  ‘Because he thinks, if he can take Bebbanburg - the ancient fortress of the Kings of Bernicia - others will take his claim to be King of Northumbria seriously.’

  Bernicia was the original realm conquered by Ida and his sons, the ancestors of the two half-brothers who were now squabbling over who should succeed King Oswiu as ruler of Northumbria. The kingdom had expanded over the intervening years until it now included, Lothian, Deira, Rheged, and Elmet as well as Bernicia.

  ‘Well, no one has ever captured this fortress so I wish him luck, however many Frankish mercenaries he’s brought with him,’ Eadstan replied.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Catinus muttered, ‘but when besieged in the past the garrison had warning of the attack because it came overland. They had the time to stock the store huts. We’ve had no warning and we’ve scarcely got enough to last us three weeks, much less if we give refuge to the inhabitants of the vill down there.’

  He nodded in the other direction towards the collection of huts, church, thegn’s hall and, further away, isolated farmsteads that made up the vill that shared the name of Bebbanburg.

  ‘You can’t think of refusing them sanctuary, surely?’ Leoflaed asked as she joined them.

  His wife was the sister of the local thegn and she had grown up amongst the families who lived in the shadow of the fortress.

  ‘No, of course not,’ Catinus said swiftly to reassure her. ‘I was merely highlighting the paucity of our supplies if we are besieged.

  In fact he had been toying briefly with the idea of letting the local people fend for themselves before he realised that wouldn’t be acceptable to either Leoflaed or those of his warriors who had families living in the vill.

  ‘Is there no chance that they are headed further north?’ Ruaidhrí asked.

  ‘I doubt it very much. Where would they be headed in such strength? There must be a thousand men, more if some of those ships are knarrs. Not Lindisfarne; it’s a holy shrine to Saint Aidan and that protects it, even if its status as a monastery isn’t enough by itself. What lies to the north? Lothian? Capturing the northernmost province of the kingdom wouldn’t be as significant as taking Bebbanburg. Besides both Dùn Èideann and Dùn Barra are formidable strongholds, both of which he’d find just as difficult to capture as here. No, this is Alchfrith’s target.’

  ‘I’ll call everyone to arms.’ Eadstan said, heading back down the ladder.

  ‘And send messengers to the vill, to Alweo as he is the closest ealdorman, and to the king at Eoforwīc,’ Catinus told him.

  After he’d departed Catinus kissed his wife on the cheek.

  ‘You had better go and inform the reeve. He’ll need to find room for the people from the vill and their animals and then plan to husband our supplies for as long as possible.’

  ‘Huh, it would be easier to do it myself.’

  She regarded the new reeve as incompetent and a ditherer. She would have to take charge herself if anything was to get done.

  ‘He’s going to be more of a hindrance to me than a help. You need to get rid of him and find someone better.’

  Her husband nodded. He knew he should have done it earlier but he’d kept him on in respect to his father, who had been the reeve for decades before he died a few years ago.

  Once everyone had departed, Catinus and the young sentry watched as the ships sailed past the fortress and turned into Budle Bay just along the coast to the north.

  The ealdorman and the sentry grinned at each other. Alchfrith had timed his arrival badly. The tide was out and they’d get stuck fast in the mud just under the surface of the water. They wouldn’t be able to float off and make it to the beach before the middle of the night. If they tried to wade ashore before then his men, especially those in chainmail byrnies, would get bogged down in the heavy, cloying mud. At least Catinus had until dawn to get ready.

  ~~~

  Rægenhere had been persuaded to accompany Alchfrith as his chaplain when he crossed the sea to invade Northumbria, but he did so unwillingly. He was well aware that his elder brother Wilfrid, Bishop of Northumbria, was backing Alchfrith’s attempt to seize the throne and he wondered what Ecgfrith would do if he found out. Exile would probably be the mildest punishment his brother could hope for.

  As the unwilling channel of communication between the two, he was also vulnerable to a charge of treason. In his case exile would be unlikely; Ecgfrith wouldn’t be too worried about upsetting the Pope or the archbishop if he executed a priest, brother of a bishop or not. He would probably be quietly disposed of. He was convinced that Ecgfrith was going to win the struggle for the throne – he was more competent and a stronger character for a start - and Rægenhere got more and more worried about his future.

  He agonised over the problem all night, tossing and turning unable to sleep, much to the annoyance of the others he was sharing a tent with. They were used to their companions snoring and farting but restlessness was somehow worse. When he eventually went outside at three o’clock in the morning someone gave an ironic cheer.

  The night was clear and the hills around the bay were bathed in the silvery light of the new moon. The wind had died down and now a gentle breeze caressed his face and helped to calm him. As he stood there looking across the bay his indecision faded away and he started to walk towards the north.

  ‘Who’s that? Where are you going at this time of night?’

  The gruff voice speaking Franconian startled him; he’d forgotten that there would be sentries patrolling the perimeter.

  ‘Er, I need to have a crap.’

  It was the only reason he could think of for leaving the camp.

  ‘Well, don’t go too far. Those bastards in the fortress could have patrols out.’

  ‘Good point, thank you.’

  He went to squat a little distance away but in sight of the sentry, who spat in disgust and turned away. As soon as he did, Rægenhere got up and quickly made his way towards the road that led to Bebbanburg. Half an hou
r later he’d reached the sea gate, guided there by the torch that burned in front of it to illuminate anyone approaching.

  ‘Who’s there? Show yourself or you’ll get an arrow in your chest.’

  ‘I’m a priest, Father Rægenhere. I’ve come to see Ealdorman Catinus.’

  ‘Wait there. If this is a trick to get us to open the gate so it can be rushed you’ll be the first one to die.’

  ‘No trick. I’m on my own.’

  ‘Stand by the torch then, where we can see you, and wait there.’

  Rægenhere bit his lip in his anxiety until he tasted blood. He stopped, trying to compose himself.

  One of the two gates opened a foot and two men came and unceremoniously yanked him inside as the gate slammed shut again.

  ‘I’m Catinus,’ a voice said out of the darkness. What does Wilfrid’s brother and Alchfrith’s chaplain want with me?’

  ‘Can we go somewhere private, lord, and I’ll explain.’

  ‘Are you an emissary, Rægenhere? If so, you’re wasting my time. There is nothing Alchfrith could offer me. I’m loyal to Ecgfrith.’

  ‘No, not an emissary.’

  ‘Check him to make sure he’s unarmed.’

  When one of the gate guards had done so without finding anything, Catinus told him to follow him and he set off uphill towards his hall. However, instead of taking him inside, he turned left before they got there and entered the small timber church.

  The only illumination came from the sanctuary candle and, as Catinus stood near it, its pale light lit half his face, making it look like a disembodied ghost’s head.

  ‘Well, why am I missing my sleep?’

  ‘I don’t want any part in this mad escapade of Prince Alchfrith’s. In my humble opinion it’s doomed to failure. Oh, he has some support amongst the nobles, but not enough, and those who do favour him do so clandestinely. In the main they’ll wait and see, not take sides openly.’

  ‘You’re not telling me anything I hadn’t already guessed. You still haven’t explained why you’ve come to see me.’

  ‘I don’t want any part of it. I’m loyal to Ecgfrith too. When I became Alchfrith’s chaplain he was King of Deira. I went with him into exile willingly but I draw the line at what he’s doing now.’

  ‘Forgive me, Father, if I don’t entirely believe you. I suspect that you have concluded that you’ve chosen the losing side and want to jump ship to save your own skin.’

  Catinus couldn’t see Rægenhere’s face turn red in the darkness but he sensed that he’d hit the mark.

  ‘I’m not blaming you,’ he continued, ‘but you’ll need to do more than just join us. I want to know Alchfrith’s strength, how good his warriors are and what he intends to do.’

  ‘Yes, I understand. Very well, I’ll tell you all I know.’

  ‘Good. In that case, welcome to Bebbanburg Rægenhere. I don’t know about you but I need my sleep these days. We’ll talk again in the morning. I’ll show you to the priest’s hut. You can sleep there tonight.’

  ~~~

  Rægenhere confirmed what Catinus had guessed: Alchfrith had twelve hundred men with him, all Frankish mercenaries except for his own gesith. Some were experienced warriors with the scars to prove it but over half were youths, full of bravado but with little or no experience of fighting.

  But he did have one piece of information that caused Catinus concern. He claimed that Alchfrith had men inside the fortress who would open the gates to let his army in.

  ‘Who are these men? I know most of the garrison personally and they have been with me for some time. Even the young warriors and those still under training grew up here.’

  ‘Are there none who joined you recently?’

  ‘No, not really. Not in the last year certainly.’

  ‘What about the local inhabitants who you gave refuge to?’

  Catinus thought for a moment. He knew most of them but not all. It was possible that enemy agents had slipped in with them he supposed. The people who would know them all were Leoflaed and her brother, Bryce.

  ‘Can you and Bryce check them without arousing suspicion and let me know if there are any who you don’t recognise,’ he asked her. ‘Alchfrith would hardly have used Franks so they must be members of his gesith, so be careful.’

  ‘There’s one family who claim to have been travelling south who nobody knows,’ she told him later. ‘They said that they were pilgrims who had visited the shrine to Saint Aidan on Lindisfarne.’

  ‘A family? Not just men?’

  ‘Bryce said that there were two brothers, two older boys and a woman.’

  ‘I suspect we’ve found our infiltrators then. The woman could be a slave or just someone brought along as cover.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I don’t understand why they haven’t made their move before this. Alchfrith can’t want to spend more time than necessary besieging us; it just gives Ecgfrith more time to muster his army. For now let’s just keep an eye on them.’

  The reason for Alchfrith’s delay became obvious the next afternoon when another army appeared over the crest in the ridge to the west. At first Catinus and the garrison were elated, thinking it was Alweo with a relief force, but many of his men would be mounted and only a few of the new arrivals had horses. Furthermore, he wouldn’t have been able to raise so many in such a short time.

  As the host came closer Catinus recognised the banner being carried amongst the leading riders and his heart sank. This wasn’t, as he’d hoped, a relief force who’d come to reinforce him; they were the warriors of Rheged. This was the province of Northumbria which lay to the west, sandwiched between Mercia in the south and the Caledonian kingdom of Strathclyde in the north. Oswiu had been Alchfrith’s father but his mother, now long dead, had been his first wife, Rhieinmelth, the last of the royal house of Rheged. The new arrivals had evidently come to join her son.

  ~~~

  ‘Alchfrith’s agents are on the move,’ Ruaidhrí said a trifle breathlessly as he rushed into the ealdorman’s hall, his face flushed with excitement. ‘Just the men and the youths, not the woman.’

  He had just turned twenty but, despite one or two harrowing experiences, he seemed to have retained the irrepressible youthfulness that Catinus had taken an immediate liking to when they had first met in Ulster nine years ago.

  Catinus had estimated the number of besiegers at some three thousand and he had expected an attack for the last two nights. However, this was the first night when the moon had been hidden by clouds.

  ‘Good. Time for us to finalise our little surprise for Alchfrith. Go and tell Eadstan.’ He paused. ‘And Ruaidhrí.’

  ‘Yes, lord?’

  ‘No need to run.’

  The young man grinned and walked quickly out of the hall.

  ‘Where do you think the woman is?’ Leoflaed asked.

  ‘Probably lying dead in their tent, if she was just a slave they were using to give credence to their cover story. I suppose it’s just as well to check.’

  After he had sent one of the sentries on duty outside the hall to confirm his suspicion he walked unhurriedly towards the north gate - the main entrance to the fortress. It was wider that the sea gate and was the obvious entrance for an enemy to storm. However, he had a surprise up his sleeve for the attackers.

  ‘Good evening Eadstan. Everything going to plan?’

  ‘Yes, the gate guard have been withdrawn and the four infiltrators have nearly reached the gate.’

  Catinus nodded and climbed the short flight of steps onto the mound where the stronghold’s small church stood. The east side of the mound had been cut away and the earth was held back by a stone retaining wall, along the inner side of which a walkway ran. Below the wall was the paved roadway that led from the outer gates, sloping upwards to join the plateau containing the church and the ealdorman’s hall after a distance of a hundred yards.

  Outside this roadway stood a double palisade – the inner was four feet from
the outer and a walkway ran between the two. Anyone entering the fortress would therefore have to make their way along the roadway between the wall on one side and the double palisade on the other.

  In doing so they would have to run the gauntlet of arrows, rocks and any other missiles the defenders could throw at them. If they were in sufficient numbers they would eventually reach the open area at end of the entrance road, albeit at the cost of significant casualties. Once there Bebbanburg would inevitable fall. There was no way that Catinus could hold it with the enemy inside the fortress, outnumbered as he would be by perhaps thirty to one.

  He had seen this as soon as he first arrived as custos of the fortress and he’d taken steps to correct the weakness in its defences. His improvement had never been put to the test for real, though it had occasionally been checked to ensure it would work if ever needed.

  The puzzled agents – two brothers and their sons who were, as Catinus suspected, members of Alchfrith’s gesith – couldn’t understand why the gates were deserted. After checking the area, they lifted the two heavy bars and pulled the gates open. The approach road was even steeper than its continuation inside the gates. Consequently using a battering ram to break in wouldn’t have been feasible.

  They swung the heavy gates open one at a time and then one of them took the blazing torch from its sconce outside the gates and waved it to and fro three times. The four ran back inside the gates, no doubt anxious to get out of the way of the army which would come racing in through the entrance any minute now.

  They didn’t get very far before they ran into half a dozen of Catinus’ warband. The roadway was illuminated by torches spluttering in sconces high up above them. Three of the warriors charged with their shields held before them, knocking the agents aside, before turning around so that the four were surrounded by fully armed men whilst they only carried daggers. A minute later the last one died just as the leading group of Alchfrith’s men reached the open gates.