BRETWALDA

by H A CULLEY

  Then Oswiu, Guret and their three hundred horsemen splashed across the Caldew. Although neither Britons nor Anglo-Saxons normally fought on horseback, Oswiu knew how effective the tactic had been in Ireland. The horsemen rode up to the rear of the Mercians and one half of the Welsh and threw their spears. Over a hundred men were killed or seriously wounded. More importantly the sudden attack by a mass of mounted warriors caused panic.

  Oswiu withdrew his horsemen and they dismounted before advancing on foot. Now the two halves of the Mercian/Welsh army were trapped between two armies each three hundred strong on the outside and over six hundred in the centre. Although the latter had suffered about a hundred casualties, the invaders had already lost well over two hundred and more were dying all the time. They were surrounded and outnumbered; more importantly they were totally demoralised.

  Suddenly about thirty horsemen appeared from the centre of the Welsh camp and cut their way through the mass of men, killing Welsh, Mercians, and Oswiu’s men indiscriminately. Many of the horsemen were cut down but six managed to ride clear. Unfortunately for Oswiu, one of them was King Cadafael.

  After the cowardly flight of their king, the heart went out of the Welsh and they started surrendering. The Mercians, however, fought on and so the battle continued, surrendering Welsh men being cut down along with the last of the Mercians. The last one to die was Aldin. He had fought on despite the loss of one hand and numerous wounds to his arms and legs. Oswiu chopped his head from his body himself.

  By the time that the body count had been done the sun was sinking in the west. One hundred and fifty of those who had fought for Oswiu had died and another thirty were too badly wounded to ever fight again. All one hundred Mercians had perished and another three hundred and fifty Welsh had also died or been killed as being too badly wounded to be sold into slavery.

  ‘I want you to collect up the heads of every Mercian who died here today, Œthelwald, and pile them in a cart.’

  ‘What will you do with them?’

  ‘Send them south to Legacæstir, the nearest Mercian centre, with a message pinned to them requesting that they be sent on to Penda. The carter can leave them outside the gates at night, otherwise he’d be killed in revenge, no doubt.’

  ‘Well done, by the way, you fought well today.’

  ‘Don’t tell me my father would have been proud of me,’ he sneered. ‘He never was when he was alive.’

  ‘Accept a compliment in the spirit in which it was given, Œthelwald. I have no ulterior motive, other than to give praise where it is due.’

  Oswiu left two hundred of the slaves with the Eorl of Rheged as compensation for the pillaging of the country and gave another hundred to Guret as thanks for his help. The other three hundred were destined to be sold to pay his nobles and his men. It was how a successful king kept his people loyal.

  ~~~

  Catinus was in two minds about becoming a novice on Lindisfarne. He wanted to train as a warrior but, at the same time, he didn’t want to be parted from Conomultus – and he was too young for military training as yet. In the end he decided that they should both become novices, at least until they were a little older – and bigger.

  Britons tended to be smaller than the Anglo-Saxons and the two boys were no exception. They both had black hair whereas the other novices had lighter hair, ranging from fair through to brown. They therefore stood out from their fellows. They entered the hut that they would be sharing with twelve other novices carrying their new habits when they were immediately accosted.

  ‘We don’t want dirty Britons sharing with us, you stink! You can sleep outside.’

  The boy who spoke was fourteen, the same age as Catinus. He pulled the new habits from their arms and threw them out of the hut. It was a mistake.

  Instead of going outside to retrieve the garments before they got soaked in the heavy rain that had just started, Catinus punched the bigger boy hard on the nose. The boy, whose name was Seward, staggered backwards and cannoned into one of the other novices. Blood streamed from his squashed nose and tears from his eyes; for a moment he couldn’t see. Before he could recover Catinus hit him again with both hands in quick succession: once in the chest and once in the stomach. Seward doubled over gasping for breath and Catinus brought his knee up, smashing it into the other boy’s chin.

  Seward would have been in agony from a broken jaw but he was mercifully unconscious. Catinus went to kick the comatose boy but Conomultis pulled him back. Most of the other novices stood there in a state of shock but one came forward with a grin and shook Catinus’ hand.

  ‘Well done. He had it coming. I wish I had the courage to do that myself but he threatened to beat my cousin to a pulp if I opposed him. I’m Alweo, by the way, and this is Wigmund.’

  The small boy by his side nodded his head and then gave Catinus a shy grin. Fighting was strictly forbidden in the monastery, though occasionally Seward hit other boys who didn’t do what he told them. No-one had stood up to him before and, after a brief period of stunned silence, the others started to cheer.

  The noise attracted the Master of Novices, a monk in his thirties called Wiglac, who arrived just as the boys had lifted Seward and dumped him onto his bed, which consisted of a pile of straw covered by a rough woollen blanket.

  ‘What’s happened here?’ Wiglac asked. ‘Is Seward alright? Why is his face covered in blood?’

  His questions were greeted by silence but it didn’t last long.

  ‘He insulted me and my brother and tried to throw us back out into the rain. He said he wouldn’t share his hut with a couple of stinking Britons,’ Catinus said defiantly.

  ‘Oh dear.’

  Wiglac was quite out of his depth. Unlike some monks in charge of novices he believed in the power of reason, rather than using the rod. He had usually managed to resolve differences between his charges by calmly asking them to explain to him what the problem was and brokering a reconciliation. He was aware that Seward was a bully and he had spoken to him about it. The boy had promised to behave but he hadn’t changed. Secretly Wiglac was delighted that someone had taken Seward down several pegs, but he couldn’t condone violence, of course.

  ‘I’m sorry, Catinus. I’ll have to report this to Bishop Aidan. We don’t tolerate that sort of behaviour here.’

  ‘Good! I wasn’t certain I wanted to come here in the first place.’

  ‘Don’t take that tone with me. I’m Master of the Novices and deserve your respect!’

  ‘Why? Seward was obviously intimidating the rest of these boys, judging by their reaction when I knocked him out, and you’ve done nothing about it. I don’t think that’s the conduct of someone who deserves respect.’

  ‘He’s right,’ Alweo said, coming to stand beside him. ‘You must have known what a bully he was.’

  Wiglac stared at the two of them open-mouthed. The newcomer, who was in danger of being expelled from Lindisfarne, had the cheek to berate him and now Alweo, who he had always liked, was taking the wretched Briton’s side against him. He didn’t like confrontation but he was very conscious of his own dignity. He grabbed Catinus by the ear and started to drag him from the hut, intending to take him to Aidan. He didn’t get very far. Conomultus stood in the doorway, barring the exit and Alweo joined him.

  ‘Let go of my brother now,’ he demanded in his high boy’s voice. It would have been comical if it wasn’t for the look of sheer determination on his face.

  ‘Get out of my way, you little bastard. You too Alweo.’

  Wiglac was not a man given to swearing - or to losing his temper, but he was dangerously close to losing control.

  ‘Good evening, Brother Wiglac. I came to see how my two new novices are settling in.’

  Aidan had suddenly appeared behind Conomultus and Alweo. He gently put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and whispered in his ear, ‘I think you can both stand aside now. ’

  The boys did as they were bid and Wiglac now saw to his horror that the king was standing beside Aidan.<
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  ‘What seems to have happened here? What’s wrong with that boy?’ he asked gesturing towards the unconscious Seward’s bloody face.

  ‘Nothing for you to worry about, Cyning; just a little disciplinary problem. I fear that this new novice and his brother are troublemakers. They seem to have corrupted Alweo too,’ the master of novices whined.

  Wiglac had immediately let go of Catinus’ ear when Aidan had spoken. The boy rubbed it, looking at him resentfully, something that Oswiu noticed.

  ‘Aidan, I’ll leave you to sort this,’ he said tactfully, but the expression on his face betrayed the fact that he was far from pleased.

  ‘Brother, may I have a word?’

  Wiglac nodded uncomfortably and followed Aidan out into the rain. Completely ignoring the downpour, Aidan turned when they were out of earshot and faced the unhappy monk.

  ‘Am I correct in assuming that Seward tried to intimidate Catinus and Conomultus in some way and that they stood up to him?’

  ‘I believe that something of the kind happened, yes, but Catinus seems to have attacked Seward and hurt him quite badly. Then Alweo joined them in opposing me when I tried to deal with the situation.’

  ‘So I assume that you imposed discipline straightaway and have sent for the infirmarian to tend to Seward?’

  ‘Yes, well, no. I’ll send one of the novices to find him straight away.’

  At that moment a loud wail reminiscent of a stuck pig could be heard from the hut.

  ‘I think that would be sensible. It sounds as if Seward is recovering consciousness. Then come and see me in my hut, and bring Catinus and Alweo with you. I suggest you don’t try and drag them by the ears though.’

  ‘Well, I assume you got to the bottom of the altercation in the novices hut?’ Oswiu asked Aidan quietly during the simple supper of cheese and bread that evening.

  ‘It seems that Seward tried to intimidate your two fiery little Britons as soon as they entered the hut and, to put it bluntly, Catinus beat him up, breaking both his nose and his jaw in the process. The infirmarian has bound his head until the jaw mends which means that he will have to drink and consume thin soup through a reed for now. Alweo confirmed that Seward had been bullying the rest of the novices for ages so I have little sympathy for him.’

  Oswiu sighed. ‘I suppose you want to send the two Britons back to me? Though I’m not sure what I’m going to do with them. Perhaps Ceadda was right. I should have disposed of them when they’d stopped being of use.’

  ‘You would never repay loyalty and valuable service with betrayal, and that’s what it would be. No, I think Catinus and Alweo will make fine warriors when they’re older. Perhaps Conomultus and Wigmund are too gentle for that; they are probably more suited to life as a monk. As to their immediate future, they can stay here until they can read and write.’

  ‘Will you flog Catinus?’

  ‘No, he and Alweo can look after Seward until his jaw mends. However, I’ll have to replace Wiglac. He should have sorted out Seward’s unacceptable behaviour long before this. Masters of Novices tend to be too strict or too lenient; Wiglac was the latter and he didn’t have the moral courage to tackle Seward. I suspect that he might even have been frightened of him.’

  ‘And Seward?’

  ‘Oh, I think he’s learned his lesson. If not, I’m sure that Catinus and Alweo will remind him. The two seem to have become friends but how long that will last I’m not sure. I’ve made Alweo senior novice and I do wonder how good a follower Catinus will prove to be. He strikes me as more of a leader. I just hope that Alweo doesn’t turn out to be like Seward. He can be arrogant at times.’

  ‘Perhaps but, if anyone, it’s Conomultus I’d worry about if I were you. He lives in his brother’s shadow too much and is too reliant on him. I suspect the same may be true of Wigmund and Alweo.’

  ~~~

  The rain had stopped by the next morning and Oswald’s funeral was conducted in the open in bright sunshine. The whole community was there for the internment, even Seward with his swollen nose and bound up face. He kept giving Catinus nasty looks but the other boy just smiled back at him. Of course, that just made the other boy even angrier. Oswiu believed that the struggle between them was far from over, but he had other more pressing concerns. Hopefully Alweo would manage to keep the peace.

  Afterwards Oswiu stayed to pray by his brother’s grave for a long time. The two had always been close, especially when they were younger, and Oswiu missed him. However, now he wore the crown of Bernicia and he needed to concentrate on what Penda was up to.

  The next day he set off for the south of his domain.

  ~~~

  ‘You’re certain of this?’

  Oswiu was talking quietly to one of Hengist’s nobles in the hall of one of his thegns whose vill lay on the north bank of the River Tees - the border between Bernicia and Deira. The man had come to seek him out and had stayed quietly amongst the crowd in the hall until he managed to get close to Oswiu.

  ‘My king is certain, yes. The information came from someone in the warband of King Peada who is in Hengist’s pay.’

  Oswiu was struck by the idea. He could understand the usefulness of a spy in the camp of the enemy, but he had no idea how one might go about recruiting or inserting someone like that. He would have to ask Hengist how he managed it the next time he saw him, although he didn’t know when that might be as Hengist of Lindsay formally acknowledged Oswine of Deira as his overlord.

  ‘If Oswine has agreed to this arrangement with Penda, do we know when he is due to launch this raid?’

  ‘No, it appears that Penda may be waiting for more information about your strength and the disposition of your forces.’

  ‘But that would mean that I have a traitor amongst my own men.’

  ‘So it would seem. Who knows of your plans in advance?’

  ‘Very few. Ceadda, of course, but I’d trust him with my life. Bishop Aidan, the eorls who I intend to visit, and my inner council.’

  ‘Then I would look closely at the latter if I were you, Cyning.’

  ‘Thank Hengist for his timely warning. However, there is little I can do until I know what Penda plans.’

  ‘I’m sure that King Hengist will send a messenger as soon as he knows more, but my guess would be next spring.’

  ‘Yes, mine also.’

  After the man had left to return to Lindsey, Oswiu’s thoughts turned to his inner council. Some men could be bought, as he knew from experience. Penda had managed to bribe the Custos of Bebbanburg for information years ago. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that it had to be Œthelwald. His nephew had little cause to love him and, when he’d returned from Ulster in a huff after an argument with Eochaid, he’d been persuaded to include him on his council as a way of keeping him under supervision. Well, it seemed that hadn’t worked too well if he was managing to communicate with his enemies. He wondered whether he was in touch with Oswine as well.

  He could understand Oswine being wary of him, and even wanting him dethroned as he saw him as a threat to his position as King of Deira, but plotting with Penda was something he would never have suspected. It just proved what a naïve fool he was.

  Œthelwald was a different matter. He was still held in high regard by some, mainly those who didn’t know him, because he was Oswald’s only son. There were even those who had suggested that he should be made King of Rheged as Oswiu’s vassal to compensate him for not being chosen as King of Bernicia. This unmerited popularity made it difficult for Oswiu to deal with him as he would wish.

  He returned to Bebbanburg for the winter wondering what perils the year 644 would bring. However, when he got there he found a very pleasant surprise awaiting him. Not only had Utta managed to negotiate his betrothal to Eanflæd but he had brought the girl back with him, chaperoned by her uncle, Eormenred, the King of Kent’s younger brother.

  As soon as he saw the girl he fell in love. She was fifteen and extremely beautiful. He couldn’t
wait to wed and bed her. However, Utta tried to dampen his passion somewhat.

  ‘She doesn’t know you, Cyning, and she is wary of you. She is very young, half your age in fact, and has grown up hearing fearful tales of you and Oswald. Not surprising really as her father killed yours and took his crown. You have been portrayed as someone to be feared; a vengeful enemy to be precise. And then there is the complication in the eyes of the Church that you are first cousins. I think you need to take things slowly.’

  Oswiu was a virile man who had been without a woman for too long. He could, of course, have had any number of willing bed mates since his last wife died, but he was also a devout Christian and he believed that fornication outside marriage was a sin. He had never really forgiven himself for taking Fianna as his lover when she was a year younger than Eanflæd was now.

  He was therefore angry with Utta for pouring cold water over his lust. Later though, when he had had time to think, he could see that his chaplain was being prudent. Eanflæd wasn’t just shy in his presence, she was like a trapped bird being stalked by a cat. He sighed. They needed to get to know each other and he would have to win her love the hard way, by courting her.

  He started by taking her to visit Lindisfarne. He needed to get Aidan’s dispensation to marry his cousin in any case. Naturally Eormenred came too and Oswiu discovered that the young prince and he had a lot in common. Of course, it helped that the prince, who was only eighteen, admired both the late Oswald and Oswiu and kept asking about their time in Dalriada and Ulster as young warriors.

  Normally women weren’t allowed inside the monastery but Aidan made an exception for Eanflæd, though she wasn’t allowed to sleep there. They therefore stayed with the thegn on the mainland opposite the island. Oswiu saw the novices being taught by their new master and had to hide a smile when he saw that Seward still had a bandage around his head, though the bruising had disappeared from his face and his nose was back to normal, if a little bent.