WARRIORS OF THE NORTH: Kings of Northumbria Book 2

by H A CULLEY

‘I need slaves to look after Aldfrith.’

  ‘What about the queen’s women?’

  ‘She had left instructions that they were to be freed and nearly all want to become nuns to pray for her soul. Besides, I grew up with body slaves near my own age and it worked well. I learned how to get the best out of people without just giving orders, which were then resented. I’m sure I was happier than if I’d had slaves who were much older than me too.’

  ‘Well, we’d better go and see what’s left at the market.’

  Ceadda had been correct; there weren’t many slaves left. There was a boy of about twelve and two siblings, a boy of ten or eleven and a girl perhaps a year older. The two siblings looked undernourished but the other boy caught Oswiu’s eye. He was well fed, wore the remains of what had been an expensive tunic and, unlike the cowed, snivelling majority of children in the slave market, he looked at the crowd with haughty distain.

  ‘I’ll buy all three, go and have a word with the auctioneer,’ so saying the king handed Ceadda a heavy gold arm ring.

  Ceadda looked at him with surprise. The arm ring was one that Oswiu wore most days. He’d taken it from an Irish chieftain he’d killed in battle when he was sixteen and it was his favourite. It was worth many times what the three children would have cost him if he’d bid for them.

  He went up to the auctioneer on the platform in the middle of the market which was set up each week outside the walls of Caer Luel. Anglo-Saxons didn’t have the skills to build walls of stone and so the gaps where the Roman walls had collapsed had been filled with lengths of palisade. The rostrum had been built backing onto a length of the infill palisade. Oswiu frowned. It was a stupid place to put it because it made it easy to scale the defences at that point. He made a mental note to get it moved.

  Ceadda whispered in the auctioneer’s ear and handed him the arm ring in a sack. The man was about to protest until he looked inside it; then he couldn’t conclude the sale quickly enough.

  ‘What are your names?’ Oswiu asked them once the crowd had dispersed.

  ‘I’m Ealswith and my brother is Ludeca.’

  ‘And you?’

  Wigmund,’ the older boy said sulkily.

  ‘No it isn’t,’ Ludeca said. ‘It’s Alweo.’

  ‘Alweo,’ said Oswiu in surprise. ‘The only Alweo I know of is Eowa’s son.’

  The boy who had pretended to be Wigmund gave the younger boy a venomous look but said nothing.

  ‘What was the eldest son of King Penda’s brother doing on Man?’

  Alweo sighed. ‘I was spending time with my cousin, who was the son of the King of Man.’

  ‘King of Man? I didn’t know Penda had a brother, apart from your father.’

  The boy mulled over whether he should reply, but in the end he sighed and then answered.

  ‘He was the husband of my aunt. She died a few years ago but Wigmund was her son. He and I were good friends and my father thought it would be good for us to spend the summer together on Man; not his most brilliant idea as it turned out. ’

  ‘Where is this Wigmund now?’

  ‘He was sold this morning.’

  ‘And his father?’

  ‘He was drowned when you sunk his birlinn.’

  Oswiu turned to Ceadda.

  ‘Find out who he’s been sold to and bring him to my hall.’

  ‘Yes, Cyning. What about these three?’ Ceadda asked.

  ‘What? You think I can’t manage three children without help?’

  ‘No, I just thought it a trifle undignified for the king to walk through Care Luel leading three slaves by the ropes tied to their wooden collars.’

  ‘Well, we can solve that one. Take their collars off.’

  ‘But they’ll run away.’

  ‘Where to? The sentries won’t let them back through the gates, and in any case they know that they would be hanged for trying to escape.’

  He turned back to the children.

  ‘Right, just so you know what your future holds. Ealswith and Ludeca will be body slaves to my seven year old son, Aldfrith. You’ll live in the king’s hall and will be well treated if you work hard and behave yourselves.’

  ‘What about me?’ asked Alweo, now not quite so certain of himself.

  ‘That rather depends on how much your father wants you and Wigmund back.’

  ~~~

  Oswald usually found a solution to most problems but his son was different. He had made love to Cyneburga several times by now but she showed no signs of pregnancy. He’d long ago come to the conclusion that Keeva was barren. Now he wondered if the problem was his, but he’d managed to get Gytha, his first wife, pregnant twice. He resigned himself to the fact that Œthelwald was likely to be his only child but the thought depressed him.

  Any father should want his son to succeed him, but Oswald shuddered at the thought of Œthelwald on the throne of Northumbria. His son was selfish and self-centred. He had no love for the people, nor any idea how to manage them. He didn’t even seem to regard his father with any affection and Oswald feared that, had he more of a power base, he might even be dangerous. As it was, the type of young men he attracted to him were mainly drunkards and wastrels.

  ‘Father, it’s time you gave me a land of my own to rule. Even your brother has Rheged and seems to run Goddodin for you as well. Can’t you give me Deira or Elmet or even Lindsey?’

  ‘They are not mine to give you, as I’ve told you many times before Œthelwald. Their Witan elects the king from the eligible æthelings. I can’t impose you on anyone.’

  ‘Oswiu wasn’t elected.’

  ‘No, but he married the only surviving member of the royal house. In any case Rheged isn’t Anglo-Saxon; the Britons have different ways of doing things.’

  He wondered why he was bothering to explain all this to his son. They’d been over this ground several times in the past. Œthelwald was now nineteen so he, not unnaturally, considered himself old enough to be given significant responsibility. However, Oswald didn’t think him suited to any form of leadership role and he didn’t know what to do about him. For now he’d made him a member of his gesith, but he thought himself above the others and wasn’t popular. Then he had an idea.

  ‘There is one thing you could do, but I’m not sure you are suitable for the role.’

  ‘What is it,’ his son asked cautiously.

  ‘You know that Kent has a new king, Eorconberht, and that he’s married to Anna of East Anglia’s daughter? Good. I want you to go to Eorconberht and see if you can negotiate an alliance with him. Then go and see Anna at his capital of Blythburgh and try and persuade him to ally himself to us as well. Do you think you can manage that?’

  ‘I’ll do my best, father. Thank you for entrusting this important task to me.’

  His gratitude seemed genuine and Oswald smiled at him.

  ‘It’ll be safer and quicker to travel by sea. I’ll lend you the Holy Saviour and one other birlinn as escort.’

  ‘Who’ll be my shipmaster; I assume you’ll want Jarlath to remain with you?’

  Knowing that the two didn’t get along Oswald thought for a moment about who to send with Œthelwald. Both Cormac and Durstan were experienced sailors and would be good advisors for his son and, furthermore, were the only members of his gesith not to have quarrelled with Œthelwald.

  ‘I was thinking of either Cormac or Durstan. Which would you prefer?’

  ‘Thank you for giving me the choice father. I suggest that Cormac takes charge of the Holy Saviour and Durstan brings his own birlinn as the escort.’

  ‘That seems sensible. A lot rides on this; don’t let me down.’

  ‘I won’t. Thank you for exhibiting some faith in me at long last.’

  ~~~

  Oswiu anchored in the estuary of the River Dee and waited for Eowa to appear. A few hours later five birlinns approached from the direction of Legacæstir; the number matched Oswiu’s small fleet, as they had agreed.

  ‘I can see my father,’ Alweo yell
ed and even the normally taciturn Wigmund got excited.

  Oswiu assumed that it was the tall man dressed in a polished byrnie with a red cloak and an open helmet with a circlet who was standing in the bows with one foot on the gunwale as if he was about to leap overboard.

  The leading Mercian ship slowed as they approached Oswiu’s birlinn and the crew backed their oars, then shipped them neatly and together. Oswiu was impressed as the other craft slowly inched alongside and the sailors on both lashed them together. It had been such a perfect manoeuver that the normal grappling irons weren’t needed.

  As the two hulls gently rubbed together in the swell sailors ran cables from the aft of both ships to the bows of the other, which stopped the to and fro movement of the two hulls.

  ‘Are you coming aboard or am I?’ Eowa called across.

  ‘I’ll come over to you, but the boys can stay here initially.’

  Eowa gave him a grim smile. ‘Very well. I hope that when we’ve spoken you will be able to trust my word a little more.’

  ‘Oh I trust you, Eowa. I’m not sure I trust all Mercians, however.’

  The man laughed. ‘I’ll see you shortly, Alweo, and you too Wigmund. I’m sorry about your father.’

  Oswiu clambered across onto the other ship followed by Beorhtric, who had come with Oswiu to represent Goddodin.

  After introductions the three men and the captain of Eowa’s gesith, a man called Bergred, sat down on chairs that Eowa had brought with him; much more comfortable than barrels Oswiu thought.

  ‘Your messenger said that you wanted to discuss something to our mutual advantage. What I’m unclear about is whether my agreement to whatever you are about to propose is connected to the release of my son and nephew.’

  At that moment one of the ship’s boys from the Holy Saviour jumped aboard and came to whisper in his king’s ear. Oswiu nodded and the boy went back to the other ship.

  ‘It seems that you don’t trust me all that much either, Eowa. I understand that there are another four birlinns which are just rounding the Wirral to cut off our escape to the sea. Well, I can’t say I blame you but what you don’t know is that the rest of my fleet, which outnumber yours, is hove to on the horizon. No doubt the boys up their masts will have seen your ships and even now my fleet is moving to join us. Now I suggest that we avoid a stupid bloodbath. If you signal your ships to retreat, mine will do the same.’

  ‘Just a precaution, you understand. Very well. I’d be stupid to engage you without hearing you out.’

  He signalled to one of his crew who went to the bows and vigorously waved a banner to and fro. The approaching ships furled their sails, turned around and their rowers began to propel them back whence they had come. Oswiu’s fleet had just appeared over the horizon but, when they saw the Mercians retreat, they stopped where they were.

  ‘Now, what is it you have to say?’

  Oswiu lowered his voice and checked that there were no sailors or warriors in earshot.

  ‘I am led to believe that you are a Christian who doesn’t always agree with your pagan brother.’

  When Eowa didn’t react, he continued.

  ‘Oswald and I would like to bring peace to England but your brother seemed obsessed with conquest. We think that you would make a much better king of the Mercians and one with whom we could work to bring Christianity to everyone and unite the country under one bretwalda.’

  ‘You want me to depose my brother and seize the Mercian crown myself?’

  ‘As a first step, yes.’

  ‘And what makes you think that I’d be so disloyal?’

  ‘Isn’t loyalty to God and His Son, Jesus Christ, more important?’

  ‘My brother isn’t anti-Christian in the way that that rabid dog, Owain of Strathclyde, was. He tolerates the worship of Christ but doesn’t choose to abandon the old religion himself.’

  ‘I see, so you have never dreamed of becoming King of Mercia instead of being one of his vassals? After all, you are the elder.’

  ‘Perhaps, but whether I’m prepared to take the risk involved is another matter.’

  ‘If you did rise in revolt, would your men follow you?’

  ‘Most, yes. They’ve never even seen Penda. He has stayed in the south ever since Heavenfield.’

  ‘Oswald seeks to unite Northumbria with Easy Anglia and Kent. I’ve reached agreements with Strathclyde and the other Saxon kingdoms are unlikely to get involved after their last experience of alliance with Penda.’

  ‘What about Wessex?’

  ‘If Mercia is divided, my guess would be that Cenwalh will decide to stay out of it. Who would your sister support?’

  ‘She’s closer to me than Penda, but I don’t know how much influence she has with her husband. I gather that Cenwalh is considering divorcing her.’

  ‘I don’t suppose that would please either you or Penda.’

  ‘Especially my brother, as he arranged the match.’

  ‘Very well. Apart from Middle Anglia, who else would support Penda at the moment?’

  ‘He has close ties with some of the Welsh kings.’

  ‘Gwynedd and Powys you mean?’

  ‘Yes, especially Powys. I think we can exclude Gwynedd. Its king isn’t called Cadafael Cadomedd for nothing.’

  Cadomedd meant Battle Decliner in Welsh.

  ‘I need to think about this. It’s not a decision to be taken lightly, and I need to consult with my nobles and commanders,’ Eowa went on.

  ‘I wouldn’t want word of this to reach Penda.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll only talk to men I can trust. What about my son and nephew.’

  ‘As a gesture of good faith I’ll return them to you now, but we’ll meet aboard my birlinn tomorrow. Send your chairs across though.’

  The two men smiled at each other.

  ‘Until tomorrow.’

  In the end Eowa agreed to join Oswald’s attack on Penda and Oswiu went back to Caer Luel to send a messenger to Oswald.

  CHAPTER TWELVE – THE BATTLE OF MASERFIELD

  August 642 AD

  Oswald, Oswiu and Eowa sat around a table in the latter’s hall in Legacæstir. The area around the old Roman town was covered with leather tents belonging to their three war hosts. In all they had mustered a total of nearly four thousand men. Oswald had left part of his fyrd behind in case Peada led his men into Elmet, Deira or Lindsey to take advantage of his absence. It was an unnecessary precaution as it turned out.

  ‘According to my scouts, Peada has moved north west towards Derby with some fifteen hundred men,’ Oswald said.

  ‘My brother seems to be mustering his men at Shrewsbury. I’d have expected them to link up but perhaps they are attempting a pincer movement?’ Eowa looked puzzled, a sentiment shared by the other two.

  ‘Presumably he intends to draw you towards him, Eowa, to defend your lands.’

  ‘Perhaps. Or maybe he will try and catch us in the flank by turning towards Shrewsbury when he reaches Uttoxeter.’

  ‘Either way, we need to stop him in his tracks.’ Oswiu said.

  ‘Do we have an estimate of how many men Penda has?’ Oswald asked.

  ‘About two thousand. I’d have expected more, but perhaps he doesn’t trust Cewalh and has left men behind to counter any move Wessex makes.’

  ‘Very well, can I suggest that Oswiu takes his army to deal with Peada whilst we move south towards Penda? When you have defeated the Middle Anglians, come west to join us as fast as you can.’

  Oswiu nodded. ‘That seems sensible. It shouldn’t take me more than four days to reach Peada and deal with him. I’ll then make for Shrewsbury, so expect me on the seventh.’

  ~~~

  Oswiu watched from the cover of the woods above the road from Uttoxeter to Legacæstir. Peada had obviously sent out raiding and forage parties to range either side of his line of march because he could see several fires burning to the south and east. At the moment Peada seemed to have no more than a thousand with him. When the middle of the
Anglian column was level with his position he gave a signal and a hunting horn blared forth.

  Immediately a shower of arrows hit the unprepared Middle Anglians and perhaps sixty of them fell dead or wounded. They had been taken completely by surprise. It was a hot day and most who possessed armour had decided to march without wearing it. Whilst the warriors scrambled to pull on their byrnies and helmets and the unarmoured fyrd pulled their shields round from their backs, another volley hit them and more men fell. Peada’s men were well disciplined however and, by the time the third volley rose into the air, all had their shields in position. Only a few fell this time.

  With a roar Oswiu’s warriors, mostly from Rheged and Goddodin but with a sizeable warband from Bernicia as well, ran out of the woods on both sides of the road and down the slight slope. They smashed into the enemy column and their opponents were pushed into a narrow line facing both ways. Oswiu’s men then proceeded to cut the line in numerous places and surrounded small knots of the enemy. Although they fought desperately, the Middle Anglians were disorganised and effectively leaderless.

  Those who could slipped away and fled back the way they’d come. The rest prepared to sell their lives dearly.

  Oswiu had led a wedge to cut through the enemy line and, whilst his men widened the gap, pushing the Anglians into tight groups which had difficulty in wielding their swords and spears, he picked out a giant of a man who had already slain three Rheged warriors.

  He was armed with a battle axe and a spear, both of which he used to keep his opponent at a distance before jabbing with his spear and, when the other man moved his shield to defend against the thrust, he swung the heavy axe as if it were a feather and chopped his adversary down.

  Oswiu’s gesith surrounded him and the giant to keep anyone from interfering as their king went onto the offensive.

  ‘You’re slowing down, getting tired, old man?’ he taunted the big Anglian.

  With a roar the man forgot about his spear and tried to chop his axe into Oswiu’s side. The King of Rheged stepped back and the axe whistled harmlessly by him, unbalancing the big man. Oswiu took advantage and stepped in, chopping his sword down on the wrist holding the spear. It cut most of the way through the joint and the hand flopped uselessly, hanging by a few tendons and a flap of flesh from his arm. The spear dropped to the ground.