BRETWALDA

by H A CULLEY

  ‘I don’t agree. Our commitment to Oswiu was to besiege Talorc in Stirling.’

  ‘But, if we do that, we leave ourselves vulnerable to attack by the Picts outside the fortress. If Talorc sallies forth whilst we are engaged with the Drest’s men, we’ll be trapped between two armies.’

  ‘We’ve given Drest a bloody nose and together we outnumber him several times over. His men won’t be in a hurry to fight us again if we strike now. Talorc will stay bottled up where he’s safe.’

  ‘You don’t know that. It’s too big a gamble to take.’

  ‘Scared are we?’ Domangart sneered at the younger man, whose hand went to his sword hilt as he began to lose his temper.

  Just at that moment a sentry popped his head inside the tent.

  ‘There’s a messenger to see you, King Domangart.’

  Both men relaxed as a young man entered the tent. He bowed to Guret before addressing his king.

  ‘Brenin, my father has sent me to tell you that a large contingent of warriors is approaching from the north east.’

  Domangart recognised the eldest son of one of his chieftains who he had sent to watch that approach.

  ‘How many men and how far away are they?’

  ‘Probably ten miles and my father’s scouts thought that there were probably a thousand warriors. They appear to be half naked and many of them have either painted their faces blue or have white spiked hair.’

  ‘Sounds like a warband of Picts from Cait,’ muttered Guret. ‘I don’t like the sound of this.’

  ‘We have over two thousand men between us. I thought that would be sufficient, but we’ll be outnumbered if the Picts combine against us.’

  ‘I wish I knew where Oswiu is and whether Talorgan has recaptured Dùn Dè.’

  ‘Perhaps if we send a message to Drest to inform him that Talorgan has returned that might take him and his warband out of the equation,’ Domengart suggested.

  ‘But that risks Drest re-appearing suddenly in Prydenn just when Talorgan might be about to succeed.’

  ‘I’m certain that he and Oswiu will be able to take care of him, and it means that we can then leave one of our armies here to contain Talorc whilst the other marches to block the approach of this relief force.’

  ‘We don’t know that’s what it is yet,’ Guret objected.

  The messenger had stood quietly by the entrance during the conversation between the two kings.

  ‘May I make a suggestion?’ he asked diffidently.

  ‘No!’ Domengart barked just as Guret said ‘go ahead, what’s on your mind?’

  The two glared at each other before the King of Dalriada shrugged.

  ‘Go on then, let’s hear it; but it better be good.’

  ‘Send me as an emissary to find out if it is indeed King Bran of Cait and what he wants here. At best you’ll have more information and at worst it will delay their arrival a little.’

  ‘They’ll have you for breakfast and return your head on a platter,’ Domengart scoffed.

  ‘It’s a risk I’m prepared to take, Brenin.’

  ‘You’re a brave lad. What’s your name?’

  ‘Bridei, Brenin.’

  ‘Well, good luck Bridei.’

  ~~~

  Ricbert was the first to spot the approaching fleet. He was a ship’s boy aboard the Sword of Jesus, Oswiu’s birlinn, and he had drawn the short straw to act as lookout. He was sitting with one arm around the mast and his legs dangling from the yard from which the mainsail hung. He moved in response to the wild lurching of his perch as the ship ploughed its way through the choppy seas off the coast of Pobla. The motley collection of ships carrying the combined force of warriors from Bernicia, Goddodin and Rheged was about to turn into the Firth of Forth when he saw the other fleet sailing towards them.

  ‘Ships ahead, lots of them,’ he called down.

  ‘How many, Ricbert, what sort and is there any emblem on their sails?’

  ‘Over a dozen, I’d say, Cyning. Mainly large currachs with a couple of birlinns and three knarrs. No device; they’re rowing against the wind. No, wait. The knarrs are under sail but they’re tacking and I can’t see the front of the sails yet. Right. Two of them don’t have a device but the third has a black sail with some sort of symbol on it.’

  ‘Does it look like a horizontal crescent with a stylised V superimposed on it?’

  ‘Yes, that’s it,’ Ricbert cried excitedly.’

  ‘That’s Drest’s symbol,’ Oswiu muttered to himself, then he turned to his shipmaster.

  ‘Dunstan, signal the other birlinns to form an attack line. Two birlinns are to stay in the rear of us to sweep up any of the enemy who get past the line.’

  As Oswiu’s warships moved into formation across the northern exit from the forth, Drest’s fleet started to edge to the south to try and outflank them. It was a waste of time and effort as Oswui’s ships merely changed course to intercept them. Drest’s best tactic would have been to split his fleet up. There was plenty of sea room and some of his ships would inevitably have escaped. As it was Oswiu’s and another large warship headed for Drest’s two smaller birlinns and the rest of his fleet prepared to ram the plethora of currachs.

  The stout wooden prows of the birlinns crushed the light frame of the currachs over which waterproofed skins had been stretched and six of them were destroyed, leaving their crews floundering in the water. Three managed to escape but two of these received the same treatment as the other currachs from the birlinns following the main fleet. Only one managed to escape but one of the birlinns set off in pursuit, lowering its sail and unshipping its oars as it turned.

  It was a heavier craft but it was powered by twenty four oars instead of the currach’s eight; and its rowers were fresh. They soon began to gain on the other ship and their quarry quickly realised that they couldn’t escape. Rather than be sunk, they ceased rowing and surrendered.

  Meanwhile Ricbert had a bird’s eye view as the Sword of Jesus crashed alongside one of the two Pictish birlinns. The enemy rowers managed to ship their oars before they were smashed but they were still sitting unarmed on their benches as the grappling irons snaked out and Oswiu’s men lashed the two ships together.

  He watched as Oswiu and his gesith jumped down into the smaller ship and started to fight their way towards the stern where the steersman, several warriors and a man dressed in a scarlet tunic, yellow trews and a blue cloak stood. The colourfully dressed man wore a sword but he made no attempt to draw it. As Oswiu’s men slaughtered the Picts the man started to pace up and down yelling at his men. At first Ricbert thought it was words of encouragement, but then he realised, without understanding a word he said, that he was cursing the failure of his crew to defeat the attackers.

  The boy tore his eyes away from the fight below him and glanced over at the other Pictish birlinn. It was now sandwiched between two Bernician warships and the outcome of that encounter was never in any doubt. He looked back just in time to see Oswiu and three of his men dispatching the last of the warriors guarding the brightly dressed man. As Oswiu advanced towards him, he pulled his sword from its scabbard but, instead of defending himself, he threw it down on the deck.

  It was all over. Oswiu had destroyed Drest’s fleet but the bulk of his warband had escaped on the three knarrs. Oswiu prayed that his nephew had managed to weed out those loyal to Drest and would be ready to defeat the warriors on the three knarrs. It might help that the popinjay he’d captured turned out to be Drest himself.

  In the event the three knarrs didn’t go anywhere near Prydenn. Many of Drest’s warriors were mercenaries from Cait and the Orcades and that’s where they returned.

  ~~~

  Bridei waited three miles north-east of Stirling with six mounted warriors that his father had sent as an escort. He’d tried to convince his son not to go ahead with what he regarded as utter folly but the boy wouldn’t be dissuaded. He was convinced that his son had as much chance of persuading Bran not to go to the aid of Talorc as h
e had of learning to fly. After all, several of the dead and badly wounded left behind after Drest’s army had withdrawn had been Picts from Cait. Even if they were being paid by Drest, they wouldn’t have been so stupid as to fight for another king if Bran hadn’t given permission.

  The first of the army from Cait appeared over a rise in a disorganised mass that filled the space between the trees and undergrowth that lined the muddy track. They stopped uncertainly when they spotted the seven stationary horsemen until a man mounted on a small pony rode forward from somewhere behind them accompanied by several other riders similarly mounted.

  The men who rode towards Bridei wore a simple piece of cloth wrapped around their loins and thrown over one shoulder. A short sword in an elaborately decorated scabbard hung from a wide leather belt around the leader’s waist and the steel helmet he wore on his head displayed four eagle feathers on the crest. Incongruously, compared to the simplicity of the woollen plaid, the calf length leather boots he wore on his feet were made of the finest leather and had been elaborately hand-tooled.

  The dozen other men who rode behind him looked to be in two distinct groups. Five were dressed similarly to their leader but wore either two or three feathers on the crest of their helmets or, in two cases, stuck through the side of a leather cap. The other half dozen were either naked or wore a scrap of cloth around their waists. None wore a helmet but several wore a woollen cap. They were armed with a long dagger, a spear and a targe – a small round shield. Evidently they were the leader’s gesith.

  ‘What do you want, boy? Get out of my way before my men kill you and make your skull into my drinking cup,’ the leader barked.

  ‘Do I have the honour of addressing King Bran of Cait?’ Bridei asked politely, seemingly unfazed by the man’s threat.

  ‘Perhaps. Who wants to know?’

  ‘I come as the emissary of the Kings of Dalriada and Strathclyde and of King Talorgan of Prydenn.’

  He had added Talorgan’s name to make it seem to Bran as if he represented a fellow Pict.

  ‘Don’t you mean the lickspittle of Oswiu of Bernicia, who has the nerve to call himself Bretwalda of the North?’

  ‘The title of bretwalda was awarded to him by the three kings I’ve mentioned and by Fergus of Ardewr and Maelgwn of Penntir.’

  Again he was stretching the truth somewhat. Fergus had agreed to help by raiding Pobla and Maelgwn had remained neutral; it was some way from accepting Oswiu as Bretwalda and therefore their superior.

  ‘The last I heard Drest was King of Prydenn and both Fergus and Maelgwn acknowledged Talorc as our high king.’

  ‘Things change, Brenin.’

  Bran no longer seemed so certain of himself. He had crossed into the south-western part of Ardewr in order to reach Talorc’s Kingdom of Hyddir and to return he’d either have to traverse that part of Ardewr again or enter part of Dalriada. Both supported Talorgan. He began to feel a little vulnerable.

  ‘Very well. We will camp here for now. Return to your masters and say that I want to meet my fellow Pictish kings here in order to resolve this business. Needless to say, Oswiu, Guret and Domengart, being invaders, are not invited.’

  Bridei couldn’t believe his luck. Despite the dire warnings of his father and the scepticism of Domengart, he’d succeeded in delaying Bran. Now all he needed was for Oswiu to arrive with his army. As it would take some time for the other Pictish kings to arrive, he was certain that by then Drest would have been ousted, not knowing that had already happened. Perhaps now there was a chance for a negotiated peace, and it was all thanks to him. Not bad for someone who was only seventeen.

  ~~~

  Despite the protests of both Talorc and Bran, Oswiu was invited to attend the meeting of the seven Pictish kings, as were Guret and Domangart. As Oswiu pointed out, this wasn’t just about who ruled what in the land of the Picts; it concerned the whole region.

  The first bone of contention was over who should preside. Talorgan, Fergus, Guret, Maelgwn and Domengart supported Oswiu whilst the other four kings opted for Talorc. However, when Oswiu pointed out that Talorc was forsworn by failing to abide by his arrangement with Talorgan, all but the King of Pobla withdrew their support.

  ‘To my mind the matter is simple,’ Oswiu began, ‘Talorgan’s grandmother was the matriarch of the ruling house of Prydenn. With the death of her son, Edwin, the heir became Talorgan. So when she died Talorgan inherited. Talorc as high king didn’t accept that and drove Talorgan out, placing himself on the throne. Many young Picts felt that this was dishonourable and joined Talorgan’s army which invaded Prydenn. Talorc retreated and agreed a treaty with Talorgan whereby he took his rightful place as King of Prydenn. Talorc then broke the treaty and placed his cousin Drest on the throne. Talorgan has now recovered his kingdom and Drest is my prisoner. Is that a fair summary?’

  ‘No, it is my prerogative as high king to resolve disputes between rival claimants to one of the seven kingdoms,’ Talorc stated as if that was an end to the matter.

  ‘That may be true, but there was no dispute and no rival claimants,’ Oswiu countered. ‘You acted to put one of your family with no connection to Prydenn on the throne there. It was merely a ploy to strengthen your domination of all the Picts. No doubt in time you plan to unite all the Picts under your rule.’

  ‘That’s a lie!’ Talorc blustered. ‘Talorgan seized Prydenn by force. I was defending its inhabitants by exiling him and putting a fair and just ruler in his place.’

  ‘If Drest was so fair and just why did he need mercenaries in his warband to control his subjects? Why did the fyrd rise up to support Talorgan and help him take the fortress at Dùn Dè? Why have his loyal people petitioned me to hand Drest over to them so that they can execute him? Is this how subjects normally regard a fair and just ruler?’

  Talorc seemed lost for words and merely glared at Oswiu.

  ‘Is this true?’ Bran asked.

  Taking Talorc’s continued silence as acquiescence, Bran then formally withdrew his support for Talorc as high king. That was enough for Oswiu to table a motion depriving Talorc of the high kingship. Only one Pictish king objected, but as he was Talorc’s cousin that was only to be expected.

  Bran then proposed Talorgan as the new high king, but insisted that Talorc be allowed to remain as King of Hyddir.

  ‘I agree, but on one condition.’ Fergus said. ‘Oswiu should be given possession of Stirling. It cannot remain in Talorc’s control, otherwise he’ll use it as a base to cause discontent in the kingdoms around it.’

  ‘But that’s my capital; it’s been in the ownership of my family for generations,’ Talorc bellowed in outrage.

  ‘Just be thankful that you’ve been left in possession of anything,’ Oswiu told him quietly.

  ‘What about Drest?’ Talorc asked after a pause.

  ‘When you vacate Stirling and hand it over to Talorgan so that he can hold it on my behalf, I’ll release Drest into your custody; but first you must swear to live peaceably with your neighbours.’

  Grumbling, Talorc so swore but Oswiu didn’t set much store by his word. He’d broken it in the past and the Bretwalda of the North had no doubt that he’d do it again.

  CHAPTER NINE – WAR CLOUDS GATHER

  648/9 AD

  ‘Bretwalda of the North?’ Penda said incredulously.

  ‘So I understand,’ his son Wulfhere replied.

  ‘How did you hear this?’

  ‘From a master of a merchantmen who’d arrived at Legacæstir from Caer Luel. He said that Talorc has been deposed as High King of the Picts and Oswiu’ nephew, Talorgan, now rules in his place. Oswiu is now Bretwalda of the Picts, Strathclyde and Dalriada in addition to his own kingdom.’

  ‘I wager it won’t be long before he challenges Oswine for the throne of Deira as well. He already appears to have Lindsey in his pocket. We need to curb his power before he gets strong enough to challenge me for leadership of the south.’

  ‘What will you do? The damned insurrection th
roughout Wessex ties us up down here. You can hardly set off to confront Oswiu at the moment.’

  ‘No, I’m going to have to reach a compromise with Cenwalh. I’m fairly certain that he’ll be prepared to accept me as his overlord if it means he can return as King of Wessex. If not; well, I’m sure I don’t have to spell it out to you.’

  Wulfhere thought that killing Cenwalh was the better option in any case. The man had no sons, no brothers left alive and only distant cousins to succeed him. With Cenwalh dead Wessex would be divided into factions and would no longer pose any sort of threat to Mercian supremacy. However, Penda was averse to having an anarchic realm on his borders; he preferred one he could control.

  Penda gave more thought to the problem over the next few week and eventually he decided to send his eldest son, Peada, to negotiate with Cenwalh. Peada started by negotiating a safe conduct so that he could travel into Suffolk to meet both Anna of East Anglia and Cenwalh. Even with Anna’s permission he still took a warband of one hundred warriors with him in addition to his personal gesith. Understandably Anna was wary of such a show of strength and mustered his own warband as a precaution. It was not an auspicious start.

  ~~~

  Oswiu travelled back to Bebbanburg by sea but, keen as he was to return to the arms of Eanflæd, he decided to stop at Lindisfarne en route. Aidan displayed his usual pleasure at seeing his old friend but Oswiu could tell that there was something wrong.

  Aidan was now in his mid-forties but he moved with the agility of someone ten or more years older. The privations he had undergone whilst travelling and preaching, coupled with his austere life style which resulted in him not eating enough to keep his body healthy, were taking their toll. Oswiu in contrast was the picture of rude health at thirty six.

  ‘You look as if you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.’

  ‘Not the world, just Prydenn,’ Aidan replied.