by H A CULLEY
Acha had been relieved at first when Osguid had decided to remain on Iona as a monk, but later she realised that this meant she was unlikely to see him again unless he came to Dùn Add. Some Celtic monasteries allowed women to visit – some even housed both monks and nuns – but not Iona. When both Oslac and Oslaph sent messages to say that they would also be remaining there as monks she felt hollow inside.
The nobles and warriors who had accompanied Acha into exile had either been given land elsewhere in Dal Riada, or had entered Connad’s service. One or two sometimes came to visit her, but this grew less as time went on. They had married and had families of their own now, even if they had left wives and children behind in Northumbria. The chance of being re-united with them was remote and in any case many of their first wives had found other husbands.
Acha hadn’t made any real friends at Dùn Add. Connad had ignored her after giving her a hut, slaves and a small grant so that she could buy food, clothes and other essentials. The other women were conscious that she had been a queen and, although they respected her, they made no attempt to get to know her. Whilst she had her children around her, that hadn’t mattered so much; now that most of them had left, she was beginning to feel her isolation.
She found consolation in prayer and Æbbe often accompanied her when she went to up to the little stone-built church near the king’s hall. At first Acha prayed for the safety of her two sons in Ireland. She knew now that Oswald had taken Oswiu with him when he left Iona and she found it hard to forgive him for putting the little boy in danger.
Oswald had wanted to write to his mother whilst he was on Iona, but he couldn’t find the words to explain why he’d decided to let his brother remain on board. He knew that Acha would be worried and that she would blame him; he just didn’t realise how angry she would become as her resentment festered.
~~~
The morning after the feast in King Fiachnae’s hall, the fleet put to sea in a fine drizzle that managed to penetrate everywhere. Rònan had greased Oswald’s chain mail, helmet and weapons in an effort to keep the rust at bay, but he wasn’t sanguine about its effectiveness.
Fiachnae had wanted Eochaid to lead the expedition, thinking that this would bind his chieftains to his son’s side. For his part, his son was certain that his father was mistaken and in any case, he was sworn to follow Oswald as a member of his crew. His father had accepted this with bad grace and had eventually decided to command the fleet himself.
The local bishop had come down to bless the fleet and the four hundred men it would be taking into battle. Oswald was now a devout Christian, but standing in the drizzle for over an hour whilst the bishop droned on sorely tested his faith. Then, as if on cue, the rain stopped and a few patches of blue sky appeared through the clouds. Unfortunately the wind also dropped and they would have a long, hard pull up the coast to the island.
‘If only that damned cleric had shut up half an hour earlier we’d have been halfway there whilst there was still some wind,’ Alaric commented to Oswald, who made a non-committal grunt in reply.
There was nothing for Oswald to do at the moment. They were following the king’s birlinn and it would be hours yet before they had to arm themselves. So he went and turfed the youngest rower, a brawny lad of fifteen, out of his seat and enjoyed the exercise that rowing gave him. The other rowers grinned to themselves. There were few shipmasters who would endure the hardship of rowing when they didn’t have to. Oswald was already popular and this made him even more so, but that wasn’t why he’d done it.
Oswiu, who was helping the other boys prepare portions of smoked meat and cheese to hand out at midday, glowed with pride at the high regard in which Oswald was held. Rònan looked up from putting a better edge on his master’s sword and thought he was mad. Rowing was hard work and Oswald wasn’t used to it. Rònan thought he would give up after a while, but he didn’t. The boy became concerned. If Oswald became tired he wouldn’t be any good when it came to fighting. Eventually he became exasperated and went over and whispered in his ear.
Oswald hadn’t thought about it and saw the sense in what Rònan was saying. Not for the first time, he was impressed by the boy’s instinctive common sense. He got up and the young rower took his place again. Shortly after that, Oswald ordered those who had been doing nothing to take the place of the rowers on the left hand side. He would rest them for an hour and then he’d change them with those on the right.
When Rathlin Island came in sight Oswald was puzzled. It appeared to be L shaped and little bigger than Iona. He doubted whether it could support more than forty or fifty inhabitants, so why had the King of the Ulaidh assembled an army over four hundred strong to take it back?
They sailed into the large bay to the south-east of the island and Oswald could see that most of the shoreline was peppered with rocky outcrops. Alaric had already told him there was no suitable landing place for birlinns on the northern or eastern sides; the only place to beach them appeared to be a small stretch of sand where the peninsula in the north met that in the east. One small birlinn was already there, along with a few fishing currachs.
‘What’s Fiachnae playing at?’ he asked the helmsman. ‘He doesn’t need a fleet of seven birlinns to capture this place. There isn’t even room for us all to land.’
Spotting Eochaid sitting sharpening his sword with his back to the mast, he called him over.
‘What’s your father up to? He doesn’t need all these warriors to retake this place.’
‘I know as much as you do. The only guess I can make is that he intends to punish the Uí Néill for their temerity to invade. As you know, there has been an uneasy truce between us for a little while now, but that seems to be coming to an end. Part of the problem is that the Uí Néill don’t have just one leader. Up here in Ulster they are divided into two main clans, but there are other smaller septs – that is, large families – as well. The dominant clan had been Clan Connel, but their chieftain died recently and now Clan nEógain, led by Suibne mac Fiachnai, has come to prominence. It was the nEógain who ousted our people from Rathlin. I suspect that my father plans to go on to attack their main settlement as a punishment. If he can do them enough damage, then the new chieftain of Clan Connel might be able to assert himself as head of the Northern Uí Néill.’
‘And I thought politics in Northumbria were complex! Where is this main settlement of the nEógain?’
‘I believe it’s a place called Cullmore, at the head of a large sea inlet called Lough Foyle, or at least it used to be.’
Their conversation was interrupted by a hail from Fiachnae.
‘Eochaid, I want you and Oswald to have the honour of massacring the invaders. We’ll stand by in the bay ready to help you, if needed.’
‘Have I told you recently that I think your father is a cunning bastard?’ Oswald grinned at Eochaid, who looked furiously across the sea at his father. ‘Come on, let’s do this. Everyone don your armour and have your weapons ready. Rowers, take her in slowly. Oswiu, climb up the mast again and tell me what you can see inshore.’
He had every intention of leaving his brother up there out of harm’s way, or so he thought.
‘I can see men massing back from the beach, Oswald,’ Oswiu called down in his high treble voice.
‘Can you estimate numbers? How well are they armed?’
‘There might be thirty or more but some of them are no more than young boys. Only a few are wearing chain mail and a helmet; a few have leather jerkins; the rest are unprotected. They have a variety of spears, hand axes, a few hunting bows and very few swords. Those that have shields only have those small targes.’
‘Thank you Oswiu. Stay there and call down if you see any more appearing from anywhere.’
‘I can see some women and children now. They have come out of the huts behind the men and are running off to the south.’
‘Father,’ Eochaid shouted across the bay. ‘The women and children are heading for the south of the island. Is there a be
ach on the other side where they could have a boat or two?’
‘Yes, there are two small sandy coves. I’ll send one of our birlinns to cut off their escape.’
A few moments later Oswiu saw the rearmost vessel hoist its sail and head off to round the southern tip of the island. Even if the women and children had made it to the coves, there could only be a few small boats there, which the birlinn would have no trouble in catching.
Oswiu turned his attention back to the beach, which was now no more than a few yards away. He was ready for the impact as the keel ran into the sand and stuck there, but nevertheless, he wasn’t expecting the way the mast leant forward as the ship’s forward momentum suddenly ceased, and then whipped back well beyond the vertical before coming upright again. He managed to cling on as it bent forward, but when it whipped back he lost his grip and went flying backwards like a stone from a catapult.
He was momentarily aware of flying through the air before he plummeted into the sea just behind the stern post. Luckily the beach shelved quite steeply, so there was enough depth of water to cushion his fall, though it still winded him badly and stung his back and legs. Unfortunately, however, he had never learned to swim. He started to move his legs and arms wildly and his head broke the surface briefly before he disappeared again. When he came back up, something hit him on the head.
As he sank once more he saw that it was the end of a rope and he struggled frantically to reach it. His lungs felt as if they were going to burst and everything was turning black when his left hand touched the rope and he grabbed it. He reached it with his other hand just as someone started to pull the rope inboard and his head broke the surface once more. He coughed up a mouthful of seawater and then started to draw in great lungfuls of air. Finally he reached the side of the ship and saw Rònan grinning down with the other two ship’s boys on either side of him.
‘Come on, Oswiu, stop mucking about. You’re missing all the fun.’
They pulled him along beside the hull of the ship until the water was shallow enough for him to stand, then left him to wade ashore whilst they rushed to the prow to watch the battle, such as it was.
Oswald had been the first man to leap onto the beach. He had vaguely heard a startled cry as the ship grounded on the sand, but by then he was already in motion. He stumbled briefly when he landed, recovered and then ran forward. The solid ground felt strange after the moving deck and it took him several paces before he was running normally. By then he was only thirty yards from the enemy line. It wasn’t a shield wall as such, more a disorganised line of men shouting abuse and waving their weapons. Oswald almost felt sorry for them. One or two arrows thudded into his shield before he reached their line, but they did him no damage.
He punched the first man he reached in the face with the boss of his shield and thrust his sword into the throat of another. The man behind them was wielding a heavy woodsman’s axe. He raised it over his head, intending to bring it crashing down on Oswald’s helmet, but Oswald was too quick for him and stabbed him in the belly before his axe could make contact. It fell from the man’s hands and clattered on Oswald’s shield as it dropped to the sand. The man screamed in agony and fell to his knees, clutching his stomach.
Then Eochaid was on his right and Alaric on his left and together they smashed their way through the enemy before starting to roll up the left hand side of their line. More and more of Oswald’s warriors arrived and it wasn’t long before the surviving men of the nEógain threw down their weapons and surrendered.
The Ulaidh women and children had been enslaved and roped together in one of the huts. Oswald released them from their wooden collars and asked about the men. Apparently the nEógain invaders had taken them out into the bay and thrown them over the side, telling them to swim back to the mainland. Of course, very few could do so and they used those who could as target practice for their archers.
Oswald was enraged by this tale and was about to order the execution of all those who had been wounded or who had surrendered, but two things stopped him. Several of those who had fought against him were no more than boys and Eochaid pointed out that his father wouldn’t thank him for usurping his prerogative to decide their fate. He nearly replied that, if Fiachnae had wanted to dispense justice, he shouldn’t have used Oswald’s men to do his dirty work, but he held his tongue. There was no point in having an argument with Eochaid.
It was only then that he noticed a bedraggled Oswiu sitting in the sand beside the prow of the birlinn and he ran over to him. The boy was sobbing and Oswald picked him up and held him in his arms.
‘What happened?’
Before he could reply, Rònan jumped down from the prow and told him.
‘You should have seen him. He flew through the air like a bird, but one with no wings. He made a hell of a splash when he hit the water, too.’
Oswald was annoyed at Rònan’s seemingly callous attitude and was about to go up and berate the grinning boy when Oswiu gripped his sleeve.
‘Don’t be cross with him. He saved my life. He was quick witted enough to throw me a rope and pull me to safety. If anyone was to blame, it was you for sending me up that damn mast!’
Oswald looked contrite, then grinned.
‘I’d have liked to see you flying through the air though!’
Oswiu looked at him in astonishment, then he too grinned.
‘If I hadn’t nearly drowned, I’d have liked to try it again. It was a fantastic sensation.’
~~~
The following day the small fleet sailed down Lough Foyle, keeping to the eastern shore so that they would be hidden from Cullmore for as long as possible. Fiachnae had put some of his warriors in the small birlinn he had captured at Rathlin Island, so there were now eight ships in the fleet. Unfortunately, they met two Uí Néill birlinns coming the other way. Those were quickly overcome and the surviving members of their crews thrown overboard, thus increasing the Ulaidh fleet to ten, but Cullmore had now been warned.
Fiachnae beached his ships two miles short of the place and, leaving fifty men and the ships’ boys to guard the fleet, he led three hundred and fifty men along the coast towards the settlement. Oswald was surprised to see that less than twenty per cent of the Ulaidh warriors wore armour or carried sword and shield. Most looked like the rabble they had faced at Rathlin Island. All his men wore a chain mail byrnie or a leather jerkin and all had a helmet of some sort. Furthermore, all had a sword and shield. Most supplemented this with a throwing axe, seax or spear and about a third carried a bow and a quiver of arrows.
Oswald could see why his men had been chosen to carry out the assault of Rathlin Island. His men had suffered no more than a few minor flesh wounds. Had the Irish carried out the attack, they would undoubtedly have suffered many more casualties.
Fiachnae sent out scouts when he thought that they must be no more than half a mile from the settlement. They soon came back to report that the defences consisted of a ditch some six feet deep and a palisade on top of an earth ramp perhaps seven or eight feet tall.
This time Oswald and his men were tasked to fight their way through the place and capture the chieftain’s hall, which would undoubtedly be in the centre. In essence, they would lead the assault once the gates were open, whilst the Irish followed on, no doubt raping and pillaging as they went.
Fiachnae’s way of opening the gate was simple. He sent a hundred men forward who climbed the far side of the earthen rampart, whilst his archers kept the enemies’ heads down. Then a hundred more men rushed down the bank into the ditch and climbed the other side. The first hundred, less the few who had been killed by now, put their backs against the palisade and cupped their hands. The second wave, almost as one, put their feet into their comrades’ cupped hands and were lifted up so that they could grasp the top of the palisade. They heaved themselves over it and dropped down on the walkway, where they attacked the defenders, driving them back. Once inside, their task was to secure the gates and throw them open so that the rest could
storm into the settlement.
The Ulaidh lost quite a few men to arrows fired at them as they approached and to rocks dropped on them whilst they were trying to scale the wall, but they succeeded. Seventy or eighty were left after they had captured the walkway near the gates and once inside the settlement, they made for the gates, ignoring the distractions of booty and screaming women – at least most of them did.
Ten minutes later the gates were thrown open and Oswald, Eochaid and Alaric led the crew of the Holy Saviour into the settlement. There was little resistance. As soon as the men of the settlement saw them coming they ran to hide and those that didn’t were quickly dealt with. Oswald saw two of his younger men dart down a narrow alley after a girl of about twelve. He sent Eochaid and another man after them and, as he suspected, it was a trap.
Three men came out of the shadows armed with daggers and a spear as soon as the two youths had passed where they were hiding and three more appeared in front of them. They were trapped but they prepared to take as many of the Uí Néill with them as they could. They stood back to back with their shields in front of them and waited for the six men to attack. It never came. Eochaid ran one of the half-naked warriors through before the Uí Néill men knew he was behind them, whilst his companion killed the one with the spear. The third man was trapped between Eochaid and the two youths, who, up to a couple of seconds ago, had been their quarry. He dropped his axe and pleaded for mercy, but one of the youths stabbed him in the neck and he fell to the ground. Seeing that their trap had failed, the other three ran off and Eochaid led the way back to re-join the rest of the crew.