by H A CULLEY
~~~
Oswiu arrived outside the settlement at Berwic just as the weak autumnal sun reached its zenith. Behind him marched the army consisting of his own mounted gesith, a war band of two hundred professional warriors, of whom only thirty were mounted, and another thousand from the fyrd, all on foot. He was leading them into Goddodin to bring the rebellious Angles who lived there to heel. However, his mind was far away from military matters at the moment. The arrival of Fianna and his son, Aldfrith, had reminded him that he hadn’t yet told her of his betrothal to Rhieinmelth. Before he had parted from the princess and her father at Yeavering he had promised to come to Caer Luel, the capital of Rheged, for the wedding as soon as he returned from Goddodin.
They had crossed the River Twaid at Norham, a few miles upstream from Berwic. The settlement lay on the north bank of the estuary, where it ran into the German Ocean. The original people of Goddodin had been Britons who spoke Brythonic. Forty years previously they had been defeated at the Battle of Catraeth and had been subjugated by the Angles, who incorporated the former kingdom into Bernicia. Now it appeared that the Angles who had settled north of the Twaid wanted independence from Bernicia. However, both the Picts to the north and Strathclyde to the west were itching to invade and absorb Goddodin. Unfortunately the three eorls who ruled the area from Berwic, Dùn Éideann on the Firth of Forth, and Dùn Barra in the north-east, didn’t seem to realise this.
The eorl at Berwic ruled the southern half of Goddodin but Brant, the thegn, was the owner of the land, termed a vill, which surrounded the settlement. Oswiu began his campaign by pillaging Brant’s estate and taking away his store of grain and his livestock. His people were now in danger of starvation this coming winter.
‘How are you going to winkle him and the eorl out of there, lord?’ Kenric, one of Oswiu’s gesith, asked him.
Oswiu studied the settlement carefully. The eorl’s hall stood on a small hill high above the Twaid whilst the huts sprawled down the slope on the far side. There was a six foot deep ditch and a twelve feet high palisade around the whole place. It was too difficult to take by direct assault without losing a lot of men. A wooden dock had been built on piles sunk into the river bed at the far end of the settlement where several fishermen’s currachs, a few merchant ships, called knarrs, and three birlinns were tied up.
‘Tonight we set fire to the merchantmen whilst we steal the three birlinns. We’ll use them to cut off any escape by sea. When the men come out to fight the fire you and a few men will slip in through the open gates. Make your way up to the other gates next to the eorl’s hall and open them so the rest of us can enter. There’s only a low palisade between the hall and the settlement, meant to keep out the curious and animals, not for defence, so we’ll take the hall and wait for dawn.’
Kenric grinned and nodded.
‘Who’ll be in charge of the fire party and the crews to cut out the birlinns?’
‘All in good time, Kenric. For now we need to find a place away from this road where we can lay low until dark.’
That night the new moon was obscured by clouds half the time so Oswiu’s men were able to move into position in stages; creeping forward slowly and steadily so as not to make any noise in the near complete darkness and hugging the ground when the clouds parted to bathe the area in pale moonlight. Finally, after about three hours, everyone was in position. There was no way of communicating so they then had to wait until a glow appeared from the dock as the pile of oil soaked rope and wood caught light on the first of the merchant vessels.
Fortunately, there were only two or three men on watch on each ship and they were either drunk, sound asleep or absorbed in a game of chance. Their throats were slit before they knew what was happening. Oswiu’s warriors had brought a small barrel of oil to soak the cordage and wood they found in abundance on each ship, but it wasn’t needed as one ship had several urns of olive oil amongst the goods waiting to be unloaded.
As the blaze took hold on each ship the arsonists ran to take cover amongst the rocks that littered the shoreline. Once men came running to try and douse the flames, they came forward to join them, running to fill empty buckets from the sea. Then they slipped away amongst the growing chaos and, whilst most made their way to the birlinns, the rest ran through the dark alleys of the settlement making for the north gate.
The cut-out crews were challenged, but the explanation that they had been told to move the birlinns away from the fire was readily accepted. Ten minutes later they anchored line abreast at the mouth of the estuary.
Berwic was like any other Anglo-Saxon settlement at the time. The huts had been built with no thought as to the layout; consequently the narrow alleys twisted and turned until Oswiu’s men lost any sense of direction and came to the conclusion that they were lost. The ground underfoot was a mixture of urine soaked mud, faeces, bones and offal. Flat stones had been put down in a futile attempt to pave the major alleys but most had sunk in the mire, sometimes with an edge poking up so that all they did was make the going even more treacherous. After one man had tripped and fallen, breaking his leg, the rest were forced to slow down as four of them at a time took it in turns to carry him.
Not unsurprisingly, he had screamed in agony but one of his companions had knocked him out, breaking his jaw to add to his misery when he awoke, to shut him up. A few minutes later they arrived at the northern gates into the settlement and opened them for Oswiu and the rest of his men. They made their way to the palisade running around the hall, which was barely six feet tall, much to everyone’s relief. There were two men guarding the outer gate who were quickly disposed of, but not before they had shouted out in alarm.
It didn’t matter though. Everyone inside the palisade was awake anyway, concerned about the ships burning below them. However, most of them were unarmed, having rushed out of the hall where they’d been sleeping. They were therefore quickly overwhelmed by Oswiu and his men, who had experienced little difficulty in helping each other over the low palisade.
‘Why didn’t you attend the Witan when summoned?’ Oswiu demanded when the eorl was dragged before him.
The man spat at Oswiu before replying, which earned him a punch in the kidneys from one of the warriors holding him.
‘Goddodin is an independent country. Oswald’s father took that away from us but Edwin’s death enabled us to break free of the Bernician yoke. Not only that, he’s a Christian and no-one is going to impose a false religion on us.’
‘Very well. You have a choice, old man. Either you submit or you will be executed as a traitor and your family will be exiled.’
‘If I submit, do I remain as eorl?’
‘So you can renege on your oath of loyalty as soon as we depart? No, of course not. You will be stripped of your lands and become a villein.’
‘Become a serf? But I’m an Anglian noble, not a Brythonic peasant.’
‘You should have thought of that before you rebelled against King Oswald.’
‘Then I ask to be exiled with my family.’
‘Very well. I can accept that. Where will you go?’
‘Mercia.’
‘How apt. That pagan devil Penda is welcome to you. I will arrange for an escort to make sure you and your family get there safely.’
Oswiu had a feeling that it might have been better to execute the elderly former eorl, but that would have shocked the rest of the Anglian nobles in Goddodin and he needed to get them on side, if possible. The next man to be brought before him was Brant, the thegn who had held the vill immediately surrounding the settlement. He’d been wounded in the shoulder and had managed to kill one of Oswiu’s men in the fight for the hall.
‘Brant, you are a traitor. You did at least answer the summons to the Witan, but then you tried to raise the banner of revolt against my brother.’
‘You have no proof of that!’ Brant replied defiantly.
‘No? Why then did you flee with the treacherous druids towards Bebbanburg? You only changed your mind and fled
north to Berwic when you realised that we were hot on your heels.’
‘Berwic is my home. I was merely returning there after the Witan.’
‘Without taking the oath of loyalty to the king? That doesn’t ring true.’
‘Goddodin isn’t part of Bernicia. I didn’t need to take any oath.’
‘By holding those views you are condemned out of your own mouth. You will be hanged at dawn.’
‘But the eorl was allowed to go into exile!’
‘You’re not an eorl and, furthermore, you were appointed as custos to look after the fortress for the king. You are therefore doubly a traitor. I will allow your family to remain at Berwic as villeins, but that’s all I’m prepared to do. Goodbye Brant.’
Oswiu then sent for Kenric and Lucan. They were the sons of Hussa, one of the nobles who had accompanied him and his family into exile. Hussa was now dead, as was his wife, but his two young sons had become two of his closest companions and now members of his gesith. Hussa had been one of King Æthelfrith’s eorls and Oswald had decided to reward both of them, and as many of the other sons of nobles who had fled into exile with his mother and siblings, with land in Goddodin. Not only would it reward their loyalty, but it would also ensure the subjugation of the region.
‘Lucan, I want you to stay here as Eorl of Southern Goddodin. I can’t afford to leave many men with you but I’ll let you choose the men to form your own warband. I’m appointing another member of my gesith as the new Thegn of Berwic in place of the wretched Brant. He can recruit a few of my warband to help him take control of your new vill. Kenric, you’ll also become an eorl but you’ll have to wait until we’ve conquered more of Goddodin.’
When the two brothers tried to thank him he held up his hand to stop them.
‘It’s the least Oswald and I can do to show you how much we appreciate your loyalty and service, and that of your father before you. If it hadn’t been for Hussa’s quick thinking and bravery at Stirling when we were fleeing from the Picts we’d all be dead.’
The next day dawned dull and chilly. The sky was grey and so was the sea; so much so that it was difficult to determine where the one ended and the other began. Brant was pulled from the hut where he’d been held overnight and he protested feebly as the rope was placed around his neck, thrown over a convenient branch, and tied to one of the horses. It was led away slowly so that the portly former thegn kicked and struggled as he was slowly strangled, his face turning a deep purple as he was asphyxiated. It was a much more unpleasant death than dropping into the void on a proper gallows. There at least a man died instantly when his neck snapped.
The army moved on northwards into the increasingly dense sea mist, leaving Brant swinging from the branch of the tree near the gates into Berwic. As a warning to others it would stay there until the birds had picked the corpse clean of flesh and the bones fell to earth.
The previous night Oswiu had given the Anglian warriors who had been captured at the eorl’s hall the option of serving him or hanging alongside Brant. Predictably they all opted to serve him. He was therefore able to add forty men to his war band, where he could keep an eye on them, and left a corresponding number of volunteers from his original warband to garrison Berwic.
His next target was Dùn Barra. He knew from questioning the men from Berwic that capturing it was likely to prove a much more difficult proposition. The settlement itself presented no problem, but the hall was built on a small rocky outcrop surrounded on all sides by the sea. The small islet was linked to the mainland by a narrow wooden bridge just wide enough to take a cart. Oswiu had absolutely no idea how he was going to take the place.
~~~
Eochaid was relieved to have reached Iona safely. Sailing around the top of Britain in October was risky because of the autumnal gales. They had been hit by two nasty squalls and they had to make repairs to the rigging on a deserted beach in the Orcades, but otherwise the journey there had been uneventful. His mission was to ask the Abbot, an Irishman called Ségéne mac Fiachnaí, to send a bishop to Northumbria to convert the people to Christianity.
‘King Edwin became a Christian but his people remained pagan,’ Eochaid began to explain.
‘Yes, I know all about the apostate, Edwin, God save his soul. Come to the point, Eochaid, I don’t need a history lesson.’
‘I’m sorry, father abbot, of course. Oswald is convinced that the secret is not just to convert the nobles, but to concentrate on the people. He needs a bishop who is charismatic and who will work tirelessly with him to make all of Northumbria true believers.’
‘And is Oswald now King of all Northumbria?’ Ségéne asked sceptically. ‘The last I heard he had been accepted by Bernicia but not by Goddodin, Deira or Elmet.’
‘You know Oswald; he’ll not rest until he is king of everywhere that his father ruled. When I left his brother, Oswiu, was preparing to bring Goddodin back into the fold. You’ll be aware that Rheged is already allied to him and that Oswiu is betrothed to its heiress. Effectively it’s a client kingdom.’
‘Why doesn’t Oswald appoint his brother Oslac as bishop?’
‘Oslac is very loyal and devout, but he is hardly compelling as a missionary. He is quiet and cautious around strangers. He makes a good chaplain for the king and priest for the vill of Bebbanburg, but he is not the man to convert the whole of the North of England.’
‘No, I suppose you’re right.’
Ségéne sighed. ‘My problem is that most of my best monks have already become bishops in the Land of the Picts. I have a lot of novices under training and monks who are content to live out their lives worshipping God here, but precious few who would make a good missionary bishop.’
‘What about Aidan?’
‘Yes, I agree that he’d be ideal, and he’s a friend of Oswald’s so they’d work together well. The trouble is, he’s away in Strathclyde trying to convert the pagan Britons there. You may not have heard but Belin died last year and the new king is his son Owain. He’s very young, only sixteen I believe, and an unknown quantity. I fear for Aidan’s safety, and that of Brother Ròidh, who’s with him.’
‘I see. If he’s alive and willing to come to Northumbria would you be happy to consecrate him as bishop?’
‘If you can find him and persuade him, yes.’
‘Thank you Abbot Ségéne. My immediate task is to convey the Lady Acha and the families of those warriors from Dalriada who have remained with Oswald back to Bebbanburg, but I’ll return and seek out Aidan and Ròidh when I return. It will probably not be until the spring now as by the time that I get back to Bebbanburg it’ll be almost winter.’
‘In the meantime I’ll do my best to find out Aidan’s whereabouts,’ Ségéne said with a worried frown.
~~~
Oswald was enjoying himself. To celebrate his accession to the throne the first fair since Penda and Cadwallon had invaded was being held at Bebbanburg. Traders had set up a market on the beach - as it was easier for them to set up stalls there to sell what they had brought by sea. A horse and livestock auction was taking place in the paddock on the other side of the fortress and various competitions were taking place in another area. These included archery, wrestling and fighting with blunted swords.
Although Yeavering was where he would normally base himself from spring to autumn, winters in the Cheviot Hills could be severe and roads became impassable. He had therefore decided to spend November to April at Bebbanburg. He’d moved there slightly earlier this year as he was expecting Eochaid to return soon, bringing his mother and the families of his warriors from Dalriada. They would arrive in four birlinns, which would form the nucleus of the small fleet he intended to form to protect Northumbria’s coast.
Eochaid had taken a protesting Œthelwald with him to be educated on Iona. Oswald was ashamed to have felt relief when his son had left. He felt that he ought to love his son, and he had tried to do so, but he was an unattractive character and Oswald knew, even at the age of eleven, that the boy wasn’t the o
ne to succeed him. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that that person should be Oswiu.
Accompanied by Rònan and Jarlath, he made his way to where horses were being auctioned. He had a small number of horses from Rheged but most of his mounts were the small hill ponies that the Picts and the Welsh used. He wanted to mount all the warriors in his gesith on good quality stallions. He knew that they would be spending a long time in the saddle before he could relax knowing that Northumbria was secure, if ever.
‘Where do these horses come from? Do either of you know?’ Oswald asked, casting a critical eye over the horseflesh on offer.
Rònan disappeared and came back a few minutes later with Dunstan.
‘Cyning, the larger horses are war horses originally bred by the Romans from those that the Britons used to pull their chariots. They prized them as cavalry horses and even sent some over the German Ocean to improve the blood-stock in Gaul and Italy, or so the story goes. The next size down are cart horses, then the smaller ones with a sheen to their coat are riding horses and then pack-horses. There are quite a few hill ponies as well, of course.’
‘Dunstan, you are a surprising mine of information. How did you learn all this?’
The man shrugged. ‘Talking to the breeders and the traders who have come here to buy or sell.’
‘I’m not sure we need war horses, we always fight on foot in battle and I suspect that they’re too slow for the pursuit. We need some riding horses for the gesith though, together with quite a few cart and pack horses.’
‘Horses are useful for moving warriors into position quickly too, Oswald, even if their riders then fight on foot. There isn’t much demand today for the war horses; perhaps we could pick up quite a few cheaply.’