Goldhill's Treasure

by Jilly Bowling

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Sophie had taken Alta into the house, so leaving Leif and Geri to watch for the enemy Eirik went inside and said “Leif and I must join Ubbe in routing the enemy. You will be safer if you go and hide in the woods with the others. Take Geri with you, he is injured and has done enough this night. When the fight is over, come back to my house,” then he went to her and took her chin in his hand, “ don’t run from me Sophie. The Saxon slaves will try to get away, some may, but I would follow you, even from Valhalla, to bring you back. You are mine, don’t forget that.”

  Then he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply, before leading her outside to the pitch blackness, at the back of the houses. Ordering Geri to stay with her he kissed her again and walked away as she said “Take care, my love.”

  Holding onto Geri’s thick studded collar she carefully picked her way through the darkness, leading Alta along with her, until they reached the stream where the willows grew. As they passed the boundary of the stock field she could see that the sheep and cattle were huddled in the the corner nearest to the stream. The Guards had been reinforced with warriors on horseback and were fighting fiercely with many Myrce. To Sophie there seemed to be more of the Myrce than she had heard talked of, usually it was only small bands who attacked the Dane’s patrols. Someone must have persuaded them to forget their petty differences and group together against a shared enemy.

  Carefully the two women picked their way across the stream and into the woods. It was even darker in here and Sophie whispered in Geri’s ear “Find Caena, seek Caena.”

  The dog scented the air and headed off into the deepest part of the wood. After a good twenty minutes Sophie heard a whisper “Here Geri,” and he led them to a thick seemingly impenetrable bramble thicket. Moving around it Geri suddenly sank to his belly and crawled into the bush with Sophie following, Alta close behind. Inside the thicket she looked up to see Caena hugging Geri while Ceolwen looked on.

  “Welcome to our new abode,” Ceolwen whispered.

  Looking around her Sophie took in what was obviously a child’s den. There were old sacks on the floor and logs to sit on, and all kinds of ‘treasures’ were hanging from the overhead branches.

  “This is amazing.” Sophie said.

  Picking up a jug of ale Ceolwen offered them a drink saying “Evidently this is what my son has been up to when I haven’t known where he was, and that dog has been with him too.”

  “Oh, we did wonder where he got to sometimes.”

  “I should be angry that Caena left his chores and wandered so far from the village, but this place is a refuge on a night like this.”

  “It certainly is, I’ve never been so frightened in my life.” Sophie sighed and sank down onto a log.

  Geri was lying down licking at his wounds and Sophie, worried that he was badly hurt, lay a sack over his hindquarters to try and maintain his body heat. It was too dark to see to his wounds, and eventually Caena and the women lay down and tried to rest. It was deathly quiet in the wood and Sophie knew that if any of the enemy came close Geri would warn them. Eventually the sound of his tongue rasping over his fur lulled them to sleep and the deep wood became even more silent.

  ***

  Sophie came awake to find weak light slowly filtering through the thicket. Geri was gone as were Ceolwen and Caena. Alta was still snoring gently so Sophie quietly crawled through the tunnel out into the wood. She could hear shouts faintly, in the distance, and terrified that it was the Myrce and that Eirik was dead or or injured she stood there unsure what to do. As the noises came closer she dropped to her knees and scuttled back inside the bramble thicket. Shaking Alta awake she held her finger to her lips and pointed outwards. Alta understood and they huddled together in fear and trepidation. Just as Sophie was certain it was the Myrce she heard a deep woof and then heard Eirik’s voice “Sophie, where are you?”

  Letting go of Alta she scrambled back through the tunnel and as she emerged on the other side found herself swept up into strong pair of arms. Knowing immediately that it was Eirik who held her she flung her arms around his neck and whispered “Thank god, thank god, you are safe. I’ve been so worried about you.”

  “No need to whisper, our enemy has been routed and the city is secure.” Eirik told her burying his face in her neck and holding her tight. “Come let me get you home, I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

  “Alta’s in the bush, I’ll go and get her.” Sophie said waiting to be put down.

  “No” Eirik growled, “you stay with me.” Then he shouted, “Alta get your skinny butt out here now, I want my porridge.”

  Alta crawled slowly out of the thicket and stood up carefully, wincing at the pain in her stiff limbs. “Oh, you survived,” she muttered. Then she stumped off through the trees towards the village.

  Eirik’s lips quirked “She’s pleased to see me,” he laughed, then still carrying Sophie he set off after her, Geri limping by his side.

  “Oh he’s hurt, put me down Eirik, then you could carry him.”

  “Master” Eirik growled, “and the dog can walk himself home. You don’t carry a war dog, everyone would laugh at him and me, for being so soft.”

  “Taking care of someone you love isn’t soft.”

  “Which is why I’m carrying you.” Eirik said so quietly that she could hardly hear him.

  Wide eyed she looked into his eyes, but she saw the warning there and didn’t make a big thing about what he had just said. As she was carried through the village she was horrified at the carnage laid out before her, most of the houses had burned to the ground and were still smouldering. Dead of all races, Danes, Saxons and Myrce, the border people, were laid out in the dirt, already covered in flies, and the slaves that hadn’t either been killed or run away were loading them onto carts; Saxons and Myrce thrown onto one cart and the Danes, wrapped in linen carefully laid on another. The Saxons and the Myrce were destined for one large funeral pyre and the Danes would be carried to the city to be prepared for burial. Leif’s house was a pile of ashes and Rolf’s body was being wrapped in linen ready to be taken away.

  Burying her face deeper into Eirik’s chest Sophie silently wept over the loss of a young life she had worked so hard to save. The Myrce that Eirik and Leif had killed had been taken away and to Sophie’s surprise Eirik’s house was still standing. Carrying her inside he lowered his head and kissed her deeply slanting his lips across hers and running his tongue lovingly over her tongue. She kissed him back and running her fingers through his hair held him to her. As her stomach rumbled Eirik lifted his head and laughed “There is a hunger deeper than the one I have for you that must be fed first.”

  Smiling she whispered “There is no greater hunger than the one I have for you,Master.”

  He gazed into her eyes and asked “Why didn’t you run, when Ceolwen and Caena did? I know you pine for your old life, so why?”

  Laying the palm of her hand against his cheek she said “My old life would mean nothing without you there by my side. If I have to give up all hope of going home to be with you, then so be it. I love you Eirik and always will.”

  He kissed her again “I know nothing of love, but when you stood at my back sword in hand, I realised that you mean more than anything to me. I never thought to see a woman put her life in danger for me, especially one I had enslaved and taken by force.”

  “Love me Eirik,” Sophie said, lifting her mouth up to be kissed.

  As he kissed her he strode to the furs and took her down onto them, underneath him. Then he proceeded to love her, putting everything he couldn’t say into their coupling.

  ***

  An hour later they sat at the table eating their porridge and discussing the night and the terrible losses they had incurred. It would be days before any warriors could arrive to relieve them, and although they had killed
many Myrce and routed the rest, they didn’t have enough warriors to chase them and make sure they didn’t regroup. All the Danes were needed to hold the city and all, including Eirik had been ordered to leave the village and move into the city. If he couldn’t find an empty house for him and Sophie they would have to move into Ubbe’s hall.

  Ceolwen’s shack had been one of the houses that had been burned completely to the ground, all her herbs and potions had been lost and the injured were being treated by the Saxon’s ‘Lach’; there weren’t enough slaves to care for the lower warriors and the ‘Lach’ had his hands full with Ubbe’s favoured men.

  “I could see what I could do for the lightly injured,” Sophie said wondering where she could get new herbs and and the leek and garlic antiseptic used by the Danes.

  “No.” Eirik said firmly. “The ‘Lach’ would not allow you to tend the men. These doctors think that women should know nothing and are quick to accuse any who do of witchcraft, of being ‘haeg-tesse’.”

  “I see,” Sophie grimaced, “it would take me until the end of next summer to gather the herbs i would need anyway. I’ll keep what I’ve got for ourselves in case one of us is ill.”

  “That’s a good idea. Now that the Myrce have attacked in force, who knows what will happen next.”

  “Do you want me to gather our things together, ready to move to the city?”

  “Yes, I’ll go and see if I can find an empty house that we can take over.” Eirik got up from the table and swung his cloak around his shoulders. Since they’d arrived back at the house the weather had taken a turn for the worse and the sky was grey, a heavy wind had sprung up and it was pouring with rain.

  “It was lucky that it was such a clear dry night last night.” Sophie commented as she looked outside. “We’d have been soaked even in Caena’s den.”

  “Perhaps if the weather had been like this, the Myrce wouldn’t have attacked.” Eirik said bitterly. “The gods are not with us at the moment.”

  Sophie didn’t say anything, as far as she was concerned God had been with her, Eirik hadn’t been killed.

  “The slaves who ran will be feeling sorry for themselves, no warm clothes and no food may bring some back to throw themselves on our mercy. Right, I’m off, pack everything in here, leave nothing behind.” And he hurried out of the door. Geri went to limp after him but he waved him back and the dog turned and came to stand next to Sophie. When Eirik had gone she persuaded the dog to enter the house and inspected his many nicks and cuts. Most he had licked clean himself but one high on his shoulder he hadn’t managed to reach and it was dirty and scabby looking.

  “Right Geri, you sit and let me clean that wound, it’s quite deep and I think it’s that that’s making you limp.”

  When she went to bathe the cut Geri flinched and growled quietly.

  “Now look here Geri, don’t you dare growl at me. SIT and do as you are told,” she ordered lowering her voice to add force to the command.

  Although he flinched and panted as she cleaned the deep cut he didn’t growl again and didn’t try to move away. The large thick studded collar had protected his neck, cuts were obvious all over it, and if he hadn’t been wearing it he would most probably have been killed. As it was, only his quick reflexes and saved him from worse injury.

  When she was satisfied that the wound was clean she wondered if she dare stitch it, but thought that maybe that would be asking too much of the dog. So she put a tight bandage over it, placing it so he couldn’t wriggle out of it. Then she went to the meal fire to get him the remains of the cooling porridge. Alta was sitting staring into space and Sophie asked her if she were alright.

  “I’m alive,” she said bitterly, “the last of my family are dead or run away and I am still here. Ceolwen asked me to go with them, but I am too old and slow and would have held them back, so I stayed. But what will become of me now?”

  “Eirik will look after you.”

  “Hah!” the slave laughed, “when the Saxons come to take Weorgoranceastre back it will be the Danes turn to run. Then he will have no time for me and perhaps for you too.”

  Sophie bit her lip and turned away. What would happen if the Danes lost Worcester? Would she end up enslaved by the Saxons? Shaking negative thoughts out of her mind she took the cool porridge inside for Geri, and started to fold things carefully into Eirik’s trunk, wondering how such a large trunk could be carried if they had to run from the Saxons. Between them Alta and Sophie packed all Eirik’s and their possessions into the trunk and some sacks before he returned. They were sitting at the table with Geri stretched out in front of the fire, when the door opened and he walked in. Geri leapt to his feet and went to greet his master, knowing that he shouldn’t be in the house. Eirik raised his eyebrows at that and at the bandage wrapped round the dog’s shoulder and under his belly.

  “Is he badly injured?” he asked as he rubbed the dog’s ear.

  “No not badly, but he couldn’t reach a deep cut on his shoulder to clean it, so I did it for him. It was a dirty cut and quite deep, it really needed stitching but I decided that was pushing his good nature too far, so I bandaged it tightly. I brought him in here so he could rest and heal without wasting energy on keeping warm.”

  “Don’t soften him too much Sophie, it could cost him his life.” Eirik warned her. “Have you finished packing? I’ve found a small house in the city that we can move into, until things settle down.”

  Relieved that they wouldn’t have to live in Ubbe’s hall, Sophie smiled “Yes, everything is packed into your trunk or sacks, the furs are rolled up and roped as is ours and Alta’s mattress.”

  “I’ve managed to get a couple of slaves and a hand cart so I’ll get them loading it. You can help with the lighter things.” Eirik ordered as he opened the door and called the slaves in. The rain had eased and they started with the table and benches, then the trunk and piled the other things on top, and with the slaves pulling and Sophie and Alta pushing they moved into the city. As Eirik strode along Geri limping by his side, Sophie realised that he couldn’t help with the cart because of his position in the Danes army, no warrior of his rank would be seen helping slaves. Two younger warriors, drangs, helped push the cart up the narrow road between Saxon built houses, allowing the women some relief from the back breaking effort.

  Finally they made it to the house Eirik had commandeered and started to unload the cart.

  Sophie entered the one room shack carrying the furs and grimaced. The fire beneath the chimney at the back of the room was full of old ashes and rubbish and the floor, although cobbled was filthy.

  “Let’s get the table in, then we can pile the other things on top. I don’t want to put anything on the floor until it’s clean,” she told Eirik.

  “Do what you like, I have to attend on Ubbe. We’re very short handed now, what with losing Ivor’s patrol and the men killed or injured in last night’s attack. I have to draw up a list of those who are only lightly injured and those who are well. Beald-wine will do the tally, under my orders, as he is able to make marks on parchment,” he told her.

  “Don’t worry, it will be ready and homely by the time you come off duty.” Sophie laid her hand on his arm.

  Pulling her into his arms he gazed into her eyes, “Make up two sacks of things we will need if we have to retreat from Weorgoranceastre quickly, and keep ropes handy to secure the furs to a saddle. The weather will only get worse and we will need their warmth if we have to camp outside. Tonight I intend to move my most precious treasures from my barn and bury them, just in case. Some of the gilt I will keep about my person in case we need it.”

  Then he gave her a quick kiss and left taking the slaves and handcart with him. The street outside had become busy as more warriors sought accommodation inside the city. It seemed that a few Danes were like Eirik and prefered a place of their own to dossing down communally in Ubb
e’s hall.

  “Right Alta, let’s get this pigsty habitable.” Sophie said grabbing a brush that she’d had the forethought to bring.

  For the next few hours the two women worked, emptying the ash and rubbish out of the fire grate and lighting a fire; brushing and washing the floor, clearing the spider’s webs that adorned the walls and ceiling and making up the bed of furs to one side of the room and placing the table and benches on the side nearest the fire. At the back of the shack, for that was all it was, was a three sided lean to and it was here they placed the mealfire and Alta’s mattress.

  “I’ll try and get you a fur,Alta. It’s getting too cold for you with only a wool cloth to sleep under.” Sophie said concerned for the old woman she had become fond of.

  “Good luck with that.” Alta grumbled.

  “I have some spiced wine that Ceolwen gave me a little while ago, let’s heat it up and take a little of Eirik’s bread and cheese and sit by the fire. We had a hard night and even harder day, and deserve it.”

  “As long as you take the blame when he finds it missing.”

  “Don’t worry, I will,” Sophie laughed and set about heating the wine.

  The heat of the fire was making the room warm and the wine and food made Sophie sleepy so she lay down on the furs and to her surprise fell asleep.

  It was very late when Eirik returned grim faced at the damage done by the Myrce. He’d eaten on the go as had all the warriors, from a hastily assembled scratch meal of bread, cheese and dried meat. Some of the slaves working in Ubbe’s hall had run in the midst of the battle, and taken the easily available food with them. If the Danes ever had time to chase and catch them they would pay dearly for that.

  He hadn’t had time to move any of his treasure, but worried how Sophie was fairing had come to see her first. Alta and Geri had taken themselves off to their lean to, dog and slave huddling together for warmth behind a built up meal fire, so in the light of the house fire there was only Sophie to see.