WHITEBLADE: Kings of Northumbria Book 1

by H A CULLEY

  They were now in what was called the German Ocean and the settlements they came across got steadily more prosperous the further south they sailed. By now it was mid-summer and Fiachnae began to talk about turning around and heading back.

  ‘My warriors and I didn’t come all this way just for a few bags of silver and a share in whatever the slaves from Skye will bring,’ Oswald told him vehemently. ‘I came because you dangled the bait of retaking Bebbanburg in front of me. Now you’ve whisked it away. You say that you’re worried about the return journey, as it’s taken us over two months to get this far. That’s true, but it is still only July. We won’t be raiding on the way home, so it’ll take us a lot less time and we’ll be back long before the winter storms start.’

  ‘How dare you talk to my grandfather like that!’

  Oswald was surprised to see that the outburst had come from Congal Claen, now fourteen, who sat beside Fiachnae. He no longer seemed the petulant child he had been when Oswald had first met him two years ago. He had an air of confidence, almost haughtiness about him. Perhaps Eochaid’s disinclination to become king after his father had a lot to do with the boy’s transformation. He would now be the heir presumptive. Oswald hoped that Fiachnae was destined to live for a long time yet; he didn’t think he and this arrogant puppy would get along too well.

  ‘Hush, boy,’ Fiachnae chided him. ‘Oswald has a point. I did promise him that we’d have a crack at capturing this place called Bebbanburg. How much further is it?’

  ‘Well, where we are now is called the Kingdom of Fife. Goddodin, the northernmost part of Northumbria, starts across the other side of the wide estuary you can see to the south of here. From what I remember, Bebbanburg is a day’s sail further on.’

  ‘Very well. We’ll carry on for three more days, to allow for some raiding on the way.’

  Oswald wasn’t happy about plundering what he hoped would become his kingdom, but he supposed he could live with that if it meant driving Edwin out of his home. If they succeeded, he and his crew wouldn’t be returning to Arran, but would try and rally the Northumbrian nobles to his cause. He could then send for his family once he was firmly in control; but first they had to capture the fortress on the coast. That wouldn’t be easy, even with several hundred men.

  He thanked Fiachnae and as he turned to leave he caught Congal’s eye. The boy was staring at him intently. He could sense the pure venom in that look and despite himself, he shivered. He didn’t know why the boy should hate him, but it was obvious he did. He would have to be careful; he didn’t trust Congal at all; he didn’t seem to be the kind of person that held his honour in high regard. He believed that Congal might stoop to something underhanded in order to harm him and for some reason, he became worried about Oswiu.

  ~~~

  Aidan had been delighted when Ségéne mac Fiachnaíhe, the new Abbot of Iona, had agreed that he could accompany Finnian when he left Iona for the land of the Picts.

  ‘Brother Brendan will be sorry to lose you; he says that you’ll make a good healer one day. However, our primary task is to convert the heathen and Finnian thinks that you have the making of an effective missionary as well.’

  ‘Thank you, Father Abbot. Who will be taking over from me as assistant to the infirmarian?’

  Ségéne was about to chide him for his impudence in asking something that was not his concern, but he realised that Aidan was only worried that he might be leaving Brendan without a suitable apprentice to train.

  ‘Osguid has asked to be considered and both Brother Brendan and I think that he has the interest and the ability to learn.’

  He nodded, well satisfied. Osguid would make a good infirmarian in due course.

  Aidan was not looking forward to the sea journey from Iona to Loch Linnhe into the north-east of Lorne, where they would start their journey through the Great Glen into the heart of the Land of the Picts. The last time he had been on a sea voyage he had been violently seasick; this time he avoided getting drunk first and he was pleasantly surprised that, far from feeling ill, he actually enjoyed it.

  He knew that the Land of the Picts was a confederation of various kingdoms, some small and some nearly as large as Dal Riada. They were making for the relatively large Kingdom of Ardewr whose queen was a Christian from Lorne. She had tried, and failed, to convert her husband – King Murchadh – and the people of Ardewr still worshipped the ancient Celtic pantheon of gods. Finnian was hoping that, with Queen Genofeva‘s help, he and Aidan would succeed.

  As they walked up the Great Glen the few people they encountered were suspicious, but they left them alone. When Finnian said that they were on their way to see Queen Genofeva, most grudgingly gave them a little food and if they were lucky, a place to sleep for the night. Aidan’s language was Gaelic, but gradually he learned to make himself understood in the Brythonic language spoken by the Picts. Finnian spoke both well.

  Eventually, after a month or so, they arrived at the king’s hall. Although there were a significant number of huts built along the lochside, the hall itself was a big crannog built out into a long stretch of water that the locals called Loch Ness. The structure was made of timber built onto a wooden platform which was supported on piles driven into the bed of the loch. The only approach to it was along a narrow walkway, which meant that it was practically unassailable, even by boat. There was a ten feet tall palisade around the platform with a narrow gateway leading onto a jetty to which several small boats, mainly currachs, were moored. Both monks were impressed. It was a remarkable feat of engineering.

  The two sentries at the shore end of the walkway crossed their spears to stop the two monks. One of them yelled something to a boy who was sitting on the walkway fishing; he immediately abandoned his crude rod, fashioned from a stick with a catgut line and ran along to the hall. A few minutes later, a man dressed as a druid came out of the door of the circular building and walked towards them, followed by the boy, who recommenced his fruitless attempt to get one of the abundant fish in the loch to take the worm speared onto the small curved bit of bone he was using as a hook.

  Finnian’s heart sank when he saw that he was going to have to deal with a druid. They, quite rightly, feared the Christian missionaries since, if they were successful in converting the people, the druids’ power and influence was at an end.

  ‘What do you two dogs want here?’ the druid asked them belligerently.

  ‘We have come a long way to see Queen Genofeva,’ Finnian replied mildly with a smile.

  This seemed to enrage the druid and he started to swear and curse them. When he had finished, Finnian was still smiling at him benignly, which enraged the man even further. Aidan looked at the two of them and started to giggle. The more annoyed the druid became, the broader Finnian smiled. Much to his surprise, one of the sentries started to grin. When the druid finished by saying that Genofeva wasn’t there, the sentry contradicted him. It was evident that he didn’t like the druid, because he shouted at the boy again and told him to fetch his mother. The boy, who looked to be about thirteen or fourteen, got up with a sigh and ran back to the hall.

  The druid started to yell at the sentry, who gave back as good as he got. This surprised both monks, as normally the Picts respected their druids. The other sentry, who was younger, said nothing, but looked as if he wished he wasn’t there.

  When the boy re-appeared, he was followed by a striking looking woman and a man dressed in a fine woollen tunic dyed crimson who wore a sword at his waist. The woman’s dress was a shade of mid-blue that matched her eyes and as soon as they saw the gold crucifix around her neck, they knew that this was the queen. Both monks and the two sentries bowed low at her approach.

  ‘Why did you say I wasn’t here, Uisdean?’ she demanded abruptly, ignoring everyone else.

  ‘I didn’t think you wanted to be troubled by these itinerant beggars, Lady,’ he replied dismissively.

  ‘Well, you were wrong, as you so often are.’

  She turned to Finnian and Ai
dan with a smile that lit up her face. Unlike the swarthy dark-haired Picts, Genofeva was blonde haired and had a fair complexion. Aidan realised with a start that the boy, who had abandoned his fishing and followed the queen, looked like her, although his hair was more of a bronze colour and his complexion was also slightly darker. He had to be her son.

  ‘Welcome to Crannog Ness. It’s been a long time since I had the pleasure of entertaining members of my own faith. I’m Genofeva, this is my husband’s brother, Sionn and this little brat is my eldest son, Ròidh.’

  Finnian nodded to both and the boy gave him a cheeky grin as they were introduced. Then the monk explained who they were and what they were doing in Ardewr. When he said that they were there to spread the word of the one and only true God, Uisdean hawked and spat at their feet before cursing them again.

  ‘That’s enough, Uisdean. Don’t let us detain you. I’m sure you must have something useful to be doing, though I can’t imagine what.’

  The druid glared at her before rudely pushing past the two monks and going into the settlement.

  ‘I suppose his reaction is natural; he’s afraid that you will succeed in converting my husband, King Murchadh. I’ve been working on him for a long time and he’s not as opposed to the idea as he once was.’ She smiled at Sionn and Ròidh. ‘Both of these two are ready to accept Christ as their saviour, but there has been no-one to baptise them, which is one of the reasons I’m so glad to see you two.’

  Murchadh had returned from hunting in a good humour, having killed a boar, two hinds and a stag over the past two days. His mood soon changed, however, when Uisdean rushed up to him and whispered in his ear. He strode purposefully along the walkway and burst into the hall. His wife sat with an elderly monk on one side of her and a much younger one, scarcely more than a boy, on the other. His brother sat next to the older monk and his son was talking animatedly to the young one.

  Their conversations ceased abruptly when he burst in, glaring at the five of them, whilst Uisdean stood, looking smug, at his elbow. Before he could say anything, Genofeva rose to her feet and went to greet him with a kiss.

  ‘Did you have good hunting, husband? We are fortunate to have guests for a while; this is Brother Finnian and Brother Aidan, who have walked all the way from Iona to visit us.’

  ‘They walked over the sea then, did they, like your Christ is supposed to have done?’ Murchadh laughed uproariously at his own joke and the rest dutifully joined in, all except Uisdean, who seemed quite upset at the king’ change of mood.

  ‘With your permission, they will baptise Sionn and Ròidh in the loch tomorrow.’

  ‘If that’s what they want, then I’m not going to interfere.’ He paused and then rounded on the druid.

  ‘It’s no good scowling like that, Uisdean. You look like a spoilt child. I’ve told you before, I have an open mind about this new faith. It’s spreading and the old religion is shrinking. There must be a good reason for that.’ He drew a deep breath before continuing. ‘You told me that my wife had brought lepers and beggars into my hall, but you lied. How much else of what you say is lies? Tomorrow, before the baptism ceremony, I will hear what you and these two monks have to say. If I believe them, then I will join my brother and son and be baptised, too. If they fail to convince me and I side with you and your fellow druids, they will be driven out of here and there will be no baptisms.’

  Aidan didn’t sleep well, worrying about the morrow, but Finnian snored away as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The next day was dank and dismal. Low clouds obscured the tops of the hills on both sides of the loch and a fine drizzle made the loch look dark and forbidding. Finnian and Aidan made their way along the walkway to the hall from the small hut they had been allocated in the settlement. Uisdean and five other druids were already there, but there was no sign of the king and his family. Slowly a number of warriors and men who looked as if they might be members of the king’s council drifted in, shook their damp cloaks in front of the fire in the central hearth and stood around talking.

  Aidan, having nothing better to do, studied the way the hall was constructed. The walls were made of wickerwork panels pegged to short upright posts which appeared to be the tops of the piles driven into the loch bed. Other, much taller, posts were arranged in the shape of an octagon around the central hearth.

  The roof supports were also tree trunks, which were secured to the wall posts and the tops of the central posts forming the octagon. They protruded to the centre of the roof, where the ends were secured to a ring made from thin saplings tied together. This central hole allowed the smoke – or most of it – to escape. A shallow conical structure was fastened to upright posts a foot high tied to the ring of saplings in an effort to keep the rain out whilst letting the smoke escape, in which it was only partially successful. Aidan presumed that it worked better if the wind blew to draw the smoke upwards, which it wasn’t doing that day. Consequently, there was a blue, smoky haze in the hall.

  The leather curtain which hung in front of a screened off section of the hall was suddenly pulled aside and the king and queen entered the main body of the hall before taking their places on two chairs set on a slightly raised dais. Sionn and Ròidh went and stood on either side of the dais and a slave came in cradling an infant in her arms and accompanied by a six year old boy who looked like Ròidh. These were obviously Murchadh’s other two sons and Aidan wondered whether they too would be baptised today if Finnian was successful.

  Uisdean started by reminding everyone about the heroes of Celtic legend such as Bran and Cu Chullain and the pantheon which they and their forebears had believed in for centuries. He went on to describe the joys of the afterlife in the Otherworld when they died and warned them that they risked being cast into the outer darkness if they failed to believe.

  It was unfortunate that Murchadh’s baby son interspersed the oratory with lusty cries and eventually wails of distress. Others also felt like crying out, but from boredom not because they were hungry. Uisdean spoke for so long, telling everyone what they were already all too familiar with that even his fellow druids grew impatient. When Murchadh yawned long and loudly, Uisdean took the hint and drew his speech to a lingering conclusion.

  By now the mist had cleared and Loch Ness was bathed in sunshine with scarcely a cloud in the sky. Finnian therefore suggested that they leave the smoke filled hall and go outside. They re-convened by the shore of the loch south of the settlement and four slaves produced chairs from one of the huts for the king and queen to sit on.

  ‘What Uisdean has told us at such great length undoubtedly has its basis in fact.’ Finnian began. ‘No doubt Cu Chulainn did battle his foes on the island of Labraid and win, but the trouble with sagas and stories passed down by word of mouth is that each bard tries to outdo the last person to tell the tale and what were feats of valour become embellished until the heroes become deities and their powers magical.’

  At this point Aidan passed Finnian a Bible produced on Iona, with beautiful calligraphy and illustrated capitals. He held this up, opened at the beginning of the Gospel according to Saint Mark.

  ‘This is the word of God, the one and only true God and of Jesus Christ his only begotten son. This was copied without embellishment or alteration of any kind from an original held in the monastery on the Isle of Iona. This gospel was written by Mark at the dictation of Saint Peter, who was Christ’s greatest friend and disciple. We therefore know that it has not been exaggerated over the centuries, since the events it speaks about actually happened.’

  He then changed tack and tried to relate the beliefs they grew up with to those of Christians.

  ‘What you call the Otherworld we Christians call Heaven, but that is reserved for those who lead a good life; that is, those who are men and women of honour. Those who lead evil lives will burn in Hell and suffer for all eternity.’

  This made several of his audience glance about uncomfortably.

  ‘However, for all those who truly repent and mend th
eir ways, God is forgiving and will absolve you from your previous sins.’

  The relief amongst his listeners was almost palpable. Finnian then went on to explain about Christ’s message to the world, the miracles he performed and the ultimate sacrifice he made by being crucified.

  Unlike Uisdean’s bored audience, the Picts hung on his every word and Aidan realised what a great orator his mentor was. He vowed there and then that he would strive to emulate him. It wasn’t enough to believe in Christ and to know the scriptures; you had to fire those you sought to convert with unbridled enthusiasm for the Faith and carry people with you.

  That afternoon the two monks baptised, not just Sionn and Ròidh, but Murchadh and over half his people as well.

  ~~~

  Oswald and Oswiu stood in the bows of the Holy Saviour and gazed at their birthplace across the two miles of sea that separated them. Oswald had forgotten how impregnable it looked. It stood on an outcrop of basalt rock that dominated the land on three sides, with the sea on the fourth. The top of the outcrop sloped down to the north and south and steep paths ascended to the two gateways set into the tall palisade that ran around the wooden buildings inside. In the centre was a tall tower from which a sentry kept watch.

  The fleet beached their birlinns to the south of Bebbanburg. That evening, whilst the men ate and drank, Oswald, Eochaid and Fiachnae sat and discussed what to do. Congal Claen came and joined them uninvited, much to the annoyance of Oswald and his friend, but as the king said nothing, they didn’t feel that they could object.

  ‘How do you propose to attack that place? It looks bloody impregnable,’ the king asked, clearly annoyed. He thought that he’d been brought on a fool’s errand.

  ‘I told you that you were wasting your time coming this far south, Grandfather. We should have headed home days ago,’ Congal added, earning him a glare from Oswald and his uncle.