by H A CULLEY
‘He’s in Rheged with a small army, or so rumour has it.’
‘How small?’
‘A couple of hundred, or so those who come in to sell supplies have told us.’
Cadwallon smiled. He now had the excuse he needed to abandon his attempt to take Bebbanburg without losing face. Furthermore, his defeat of this Whiteblade would restore his reputation once more.
‘Thank you; you’ve done well. Cadwaladr, tell our chieftains and the Mercian thegns that we leave tomorrow to march west to confront this Oswald and his pathetic army.’
~~~
Oswiu wasn’t best pleased when his brother told him about Rhieinmelth. He loved Fianna and had no intention of betraying her by marrying some girl he’d never even met, however royal. Besides, she had just presented him with a son – Aldfrith. He had planned on marrying Fianna to make the boy legitimate.
‘If you want to gain an ally, why don’t you marry her yourself?’ he spat at Oswald.
‘Because I may have to marry later to create an alliance with one of the major kingdoms of England. For me it will be for duty rather than love as well. If you refuse, we’ll lose Rheged as an ally and we might as well go back to Arran now.’
He paused and looked at his brother’s angry face.
‘Look, you know I wouldn’t ask this if it wasn’t vitally important. At least meet the girl tonight at the feast. That can’t do any harm, can it?’
When Rhieinmelth came in and sat between her father and Oswiu, Oswald, who was sitting on King Royth’s right, gasped and wondered if he’d made the right decision in turning her down himself. He didn’t think that he’d ever seen anyone so beautiful. He thought Keeva was stunningly attractive, but he had to admit that she wasn’t as lovely as this girl. Rhieinmelth had kept her eyes down demurely when she took her place, but when she was introduced to the brothers she gave each a radiant smile. If Oswald was captivated, Oswiu was overcome with desire for her. All thoughts of betraying Fianna were suppressed and he concentrated on winning the heart of the princess.
After Oswald’s initial feeling of regret at passing up the opportunity to marry Rhieinmelth, he consoled himself with the thought that the alliance with Rheged was now assured.
~~~
In early June, Oswald reached Hexham, or at least the blackened ruins of what had been the settlement. The people had returned after the sacking by Cadwallon, but lived in makeshift shelters. Many had been killed by Cadwallon, but even more had died during the harsh winter. They greeted Oswald as their saviour and he assured them that he would help them to rebuild their settlement once he was king. That night he camped beside the River Tyne on the west side of Hexham.
His army had been swelled by another forty warriors from Rheged. He had hoped for more, but, not unreasonably, Royth hadn’t wanted to weaken his own forces too much in case Oswald lost and Rheged had to face an invasion by Cadwallon. He had also given Oswald horses, supplies and several guides.
Two of these returned the next morning to inform him that Cadwallon was camped at Corbridge, a mere two and a quarter miles away on the other bank of the Tyne. Oswald’s first problem was crossing the river, but the local people told him of a ford that was passable in the summer months near Riding Mill. The mill was the nearest one to Corbridge; Cadwallon had spared it so that he could use it to produce flour for his army.
That evening Oswald’s advance guard killed the dozen Welshmen who guarded the mill and crossed to the north bank without a problem. The next morning they advanced on the old fort at Corbridge, but the scouts returned to report that it was deserted.
‘Do you think that they were ever there, after all?’ Rònan asked.
He and Jarlath were two of a dozen warriors selected as Oswald’s personal guards, his gesith, and like the other ten, were his friends as well as his bodyguards.
‘All the signs are that a large army has only just left the place, including a few of their own men who were too badly wounded to take with them, who they killed. The corpses were less than a day old,’ the chief scout pointed out.
‘Right. Well, we need to find out where they’ve gone. We’ll get rid of the corpses and camp in the old fort tonight. Tomorrow we’ll send out the scouts to locate Cadwallon’s army. Their trail should be easy to follow. Just pray that it doesn’t rain hard tonight.’
Oswald and Oswiu, followed discretely by Rònan and Jarlath, toured the old fort and both became angry when they saw the remains of bodies in the midden heap.
‘One of those is probably our half-brother. Whatever we thought of Eanfrith, he deserves a Christian burial.’
He asked for volunteers to carry out the unsavoury task of recovering what was left of the bodies and burying them together in a patch of ground consecrated for the purpose by Osguid and Oslac. Halfway through the following morning the scouts returned to report that Cadwallon had drawn up an army of between three and four hundred men on a low ridge some six or seven miles to the north-west.
Oswald decided to move to within two miles of the place and camp there for the night. At dawn the next morning he advanced to below the ridge and called Osguid and Oslac forward, together with several men with wooden shovels and metal picks. They proceeded to dig a hole in full sight of the Welsh and Mercian army into which the two monks placed a large wooden cross before the hole was filled in again and the earth packed tight. Oswald drew his army up either side of the cross and the two monks led prayers for their success against the enemy.
Cadwallon was also a Christian, as were many of his men, but he had brought no priests or monks with him. Seeing their foes being blessed, whilst they were not, unsettled them and the men started to murmur amongst themselves. It was not a good sign, but there was little that Cadwallon could do about it.
‘God be with you on this day, brother,’ Oswald said to Oswiu, who smiled and nodded before taking his place in command of the right flank. Eochaid took charge of the left whilst Oswald led the centre.
‘What will you call this place, Oswald?’
He turned and smiled at Osguid.
‘I’ll call it the Field of Heaven if we win; if we lose it doesn’t matter what I call it.’
‘Heavenfield? Yes, that’s apt. Christ guide your strong right arm and protect you. Oslac and I will join the warriors of Iona. We may not shed blood, but mayhap our cudgels will crush a few skulls this day.’
Oswald took a deep breath and ordered his archers forward. The battle that would decide the fate of Northumbria was about to begin.
TO BE CONTINUED IN
WARRIORS OF THE NORTH
Other Novels by H A Culley
The Normans Series
The Bastard’s Crown
Death in the Forest
England in Anarchy
Caging the Lyon
Seeking Jerusalem
Babylon Series
Babylon – The Concubine’s Son
Babylon – Dawn of Empire
Individual Novels
Magna Carta
The Sins of the Fathers
Robert the Bruce Trilogy
The Path to the Throne
The Winter King
After Bannockburn
Constantine Trilogy
Constantine – The Battle for Rome
Crispus Ascending
Death of the Innocent
Macedon Trilogy
The Strategos
The Sacred War
Alexander
About the Author
H A Culley was born in Wiltshire in 1944 and entered RMA Sandhurst after leaving school. He was an Army officer for twenty four years, during which time he had a variety of unusual jobs. He spent his twenty first birthday in the jungles of Borneo, commanded an Arab unit in the Gulf for three years and was the military attaché in Beirut during the aftermath of the Lebanese Civil War.
After leaving the Army, he became the bursar of a large independent school for seventeen years before moving into marketing and fundraising in the educati
on sector. He has served on the board of two commercial companies and several national and local charities. He has also been involved in two major historical projects. He recently retired as the finance director and company secretary of IDPE and remains on its board of trustees.
He has three adult children and one granddaughter and lives with his wife and two Bernese Mountain Dogs between Holy Island and Berwick upon Tweed in Northumberland.