‘On the contrary,’ Fidelma said, also rising to her feet. ‘There is much to keep us here.’
She could see Gwnda attempting to control his temper. Just as he was about to articulate his anger there came a shouting outside the door and a moment later it burst open. A youth with wide frightened eyes came into the room with a rush, saw them and skidded to a hold, gasping for breath.
‘A raid!’ he managed to get out after a moment. ‘A raid! Saxon warships.’
‘What do you say?’ gasped Gwnda, staring at the young man. ‘Saxons raiding? Where?’
Eadulf groaned inwardly as he rose to his feet.
‘Can you be more specific?’ Fidelma demanded sharply of the youth. ‘Where are these Saxon warships?’
The young man was agitated and did not reply until Gwnda took him by the arm.
‘Speak, lad!’ he thundered. ‘Where are the Saxons landing?’
‘My father is the cowherd Taloc, my lord. His cattle graze on the pastures at Carregwasted, a few kilometres to the north. You must know it — the old point, overlooking the bay.’
‘Yes, yes. I know it. How many Saxon ships?’ demanded Gwnda impatiently.
‘We were tending the herd beyond when my young sister came running to tell us that a strange ship had entered the bay-’
‘Are you saying there is only one Saxon warship?’ intervened Fidelma.
‘One’s enough,’ cut in Gwnda quickly. ‘Go on, lad. How many warriors? Where are they now?’
The youth looked from one to another in bewilderment, and decided to continue. ‘We went to look at it. My father said it was a Saxon ship, because of the markings on it. He said there was something strange about it.’
‘Something strange about the markings? What?’ interrupted Eadulf.
‘Forget the markings. What happened then?’ urged Gwnda.
‘Some small boats put out from the Saxon ship and came to the rocky beach below. About a score of Saxon warriors with battleaxes and round shields came ashore at the point. .’
Gwnda groaned loudly. ‘I know the place. There is an easy path up from there. They mean to raid us, and I can only raise half a dozen able-bodied men. We will have to abandon the township; take shelter in the woods.’
Fidelma leant forward towards the youth. ‘Did you see them preparing to come up from the beach?’
The young man shook his head. ‘My father shouted to my sister and mother to take what valuables they could carry and hurry towards the forest shelter where they might hide. He went back to the herd to try to get them to safety while he ordered me to come and warn the township.’
Gwnda stood helplessly. ‘We do not have enough warriors to defend the township,’ he groaned. ‘We must evacuate immediately!’
‘Better that we first attempt to discover their intentions before you send your people into a panicked flight,’ suggested Fidelma.
‘Intentions?’ Gwnda laughed sourly. ‘They are Saxons. What other intentions have they but to rape, pillage and burn. They are barbarians!’
Eadulf flushed. ‘Not all my people are barbarians.’ His voice was tight with anger.
‘I suppose you mean to tell me that your countrymen are here to trade peacefully with us?’ Gwnda sneered.
Eadulf took a threatening step forward. Then he halted, controlling the impulse. ‘We do not know why they are here. Nor will we find out if you run away or attack them.’
‘Have we not learnt from the raid at Llanpadern? Or do you reject the evidence? I suppose you think I should go to the point and politely ask them what they want?’
‘It might be an easier option than what you are suggesting, ’ Eadulf replied without thinking.
‘But not a prudent one,’ Fidelma said, rising and laying a hand on his arm, for she saw that Eadulf’s temper was getting the better of him. She knew that his pent-up anger was caused by the guilt he had been made to feel about his Saxon heritage.
‘If there is no man among the people of Llanwnda to go and meet with these Saxons, then I shall go myself. I shall find out what they want,’ he said.
Gwnda stared at him in surprise for a moment and then he chuckled softly. ‘Of course, you are one of them. You will go to them to save your own neck.’
Fidelma let out an angry hiss and stepped in front of Eadulf, more to protect Gwnda from her companion’s physical rage than to protect Eadulf.
‘That is unworthy of you, Gwnda. Brother Eadulf is a man whom I trust with my life and the lives of everyone in this place.’ She hesitated and turned to Eadulf. ‘It is a good idea that we try to parley with them, whoever they are, or at least get close enough to see what their intentions are.’
Eadulf was still simmering at the insult. ‘I did not make the offer to go from self-interest,’ he growled. ‘But I shall go.’
‘We shall go,’ corrected Fidelma with a smile.
Eadulf shook his head firmly. ‘I go alone. Gwnda is partially right. They are less likely to harm a fellow Saxon if their intention is warlike.’
‘Perhaps,’ Fidelma admitted reluctantly. She could understand his argument. ‘But I will come as far as I can and-’
‘Time is pressing,’ interrupted Gwnda. ‘I shall give the order for the township to be evacuated into the forests. I cannot wait for you to see what these barbarians are about.’
‘You must do as you think fit, Gwnda.’ Fidelma turned to the youth. ‘Boy, point us in the direction of this landing place.’
The youth pointed northwards. ‘Keep going along the northern track until you come to the sea. It is only a kilometre or two, directly to the north. You cannot miss the bay.’
Fidelma and Eadulf went to the stables and saddled their horses. As they left the township, Gwnda had already begun to sound an alarm bell. The place had become a scene of frenetic activity as people ran here and there collecting their children and belongings. Fidelma called to Eadulf: ‘As soon as we come within sight of them, I’ll hang back and you go on. But, for the sake of all you hold dear, Eadulf, please be careful.’
Eadulf gave a quick smile. ‘I do not mean to throw my life away to make a point to that cretin Gwnda.’
‘If you can make contact with these Saxons, try to find out if they were the same ship that was sighted where the brethren from Llanpadern were found and what they know of that raid.’
After that, they followed the path northwards in silence. Beyond an isolated copse, they came within sight of the sea. But it was not the view which halted them. It was a curious rhythmic sound; a musical chant, but not exactly so. There was something almost menacing about it. Eadulf signalled to Fidelma to draw rein and pointed to the shelter of the trees.
‘They are coming,’ he announced quietly. ‘That’s a Saxon war chant. Stay hidden. If anything happens. . well, ride as if the furies of hell were on your heels.’
Fidelma raised her hand in acknowledgment, turned her horse and walked it in among the cover of the trees.
Eadulf waited until she was well hidden and then began to walk his horse towards the curious percussion-like noise. As he came round the corner of a rise he saw below him what to an untrained eye would look like a strange serpent moving slowly along the path, the sun reflecting off odd scales running along the sides of the monster. To an eye which had beheld the sight before it was a double column of men, large round shields giving protection on both sides so that little could be seen of the warriors who held them. He could make out their horned metal helmets and the double-bladed battleaxes held ready.
The column marched in unison, leather boots stamping the ground. And, with a regular monotony, the arms holding the axes would be raised heavenward before striking the weapons down on the metal shield rims so that the noise was a fierce drum beat, hypnotic, unrelenting. In the pause before the next beat came the cry ‘úp the eorl! úp Eanfrith!’ and then the remorseless bang of axe on shield again. It was unnerving and it was designed to be so. Eadulf was no stranger to the sight of Saxon warriors marching in a battle phal
anx and issuing the war-cry calculated to terrify their enemies.
Abruptly the column halted and was silent.
Someone must have seen Eadulf on his horse and given the order. He hoped that no one in the column of warriors was armed with a bow and would decide to use it before he came within shouting range. He guided his horse slowly down towards the waiting column.
‘Welcome, brothers!’ he called, halting about five yards away from the head of it. ‘What do you seek in this land?’
The column stood in silence and then a Saxon voice answered him.
‘Who are you who speaks our tongue?’
‘I am Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham in the land of the South Folk.’
‘A Christian?’ The voice was still suspicious.
‘I am.’
‘We are Hwicce!’ came the cold response.
Eadulf felt a coldness go through him. Here were the very people he had told Fidelma about. Saxons whose fighting prowess was legendary and who still clung to the old faith, worshipping Woden the Allfather, chief of the raven clan.
‘I have heard of the Hwicce.’ Eadulf managed a smile. ‘The Hwicce are renowned among all the kingdoms of the Saxons, Angles and Jutes. But the Hwicce I have heard of are brave and generous warriors who are courteous to strangers — even to Christian brothers in strange lands.’
There was a moment’s silence and someone muttered something and then there was a shout of laughter. Eadulf tried not to show his unease.
‘You have a way with words, Eadulf the Christian,’ came the voice. ‘Tell us what you are doing here.’
Eadulf decided to be sparing with the truth. ‘I am travelling with a companion to the kingdom of Kent, to Canterbury. A storm drove my ship ashore here a few days ago.’
‘And you, a Saxon, have encountered no animosity from these Welisc?’ demanded the voice in surprise.
‘I have encountered many expressions of dislike but I have survived. But they are Christian in this land and do not kill without good reason.’
‘Being Saxon is often considered reason enough. Doubtless, your Christian ways make these dogs spare you, Eadulf,’ the voice replied. ‘Tell me, do you know where the Welisc warriors are? Are we likely to be attacked?’
Eadulf thought quickly. Which would be more effective? The truth or some lie claiming that warriors were nearby? He felt it better to be truthful.
‘There are no warriors nearby, Hwicce. This is a land of peaceful shepherds and herders of cattle.’
‘Will you take an oath on that? Swear by the sword of Woden?’
Eadulf shook his head. ‘An oath on the sword of Woden would be meaningless to me. I will swear on the cross of my Christ, though.’
‘Good enough. Do you so swear?’
‘I do. There are no large bands of Welisc warriors within a morning’s ride of us. I swear this by the Holy Cross!’
The column of warriors broke up at a word of command. The shields came down and the phalanx dissolved and Eadulf came face to face with the person whom he had been addressing. The man set down his war shield and took off his helmet. To Eadulf’s surprise, the speaker was a blond-haired youth, certainly not far advanced into his twenties. He had a handsome face, highlighted by deepset eyes so grey as to be almost violet in colour. He was tall, muscular and looked like a man to whom the profession of warrior came naturally. Eadulf took an instant liking to his open, youthful features.
‘Well met in this land of the Welisc, Eadulf the Christian,’ the young man grinned. ‘I am the Eorl Osric, thane to Eanfrith, king of the Hwicce.’
Eadulf dismounted from his horse and took a few steps towards the eorl. ‘Then well met, Osric of the Hwicce. Pax tecum!’
Osric grinned again. ‘I have no Latin, Eadulf. Speak in good Saxon. I am not Christian. The gods of my forefathers are good enough for me.’
‘I was going to ask you for a quid pro quo, but as you speak no Latin, I shall translate. Something for something. I have told you there are no Welisc warriors here. Now you tell me something.’
Osric chuckled. ‘Were you a merchant before you joined this curious brotherhood of Christ, my friend?’
‘I was hereditary gerefa of my people,’ Eadulf assured him.
‘A lawgiver. I might have known,’ replied the young thane with a wry grimace. ‘Then we shall cease to bargain. What is it that you wish to know?’
‘What are you doing on this shore? Do you mean to harm the people living here?’
Osric pointed to the woods beyond. ‘We are here to cut down the tallest tree we can find.’
It was a totally unexpected reply and Eadulf’s face showed it.
Osric was still chuckling. ‘My gerefa friend,’ he said, ‘it is quite true. Our ship has been demasted and we managed to make it into a bay beyond that point.’ He waved a hand over his shoulder. ‘We need to get a new mast. But as this is the land of Welisc we came prepared to fight for it.’
‘And that was why you were shouting your war-cry?’
‘We thought that it might frighten people off long enough for our purpose.’
He turned and snapped an order which sent his men racing towards the nearby wood searching for a tall tree.
One of the men, obviously the chief carpenter, pointed to a tall, fairly thin oak. Two axemen came forward and set to work with a will, the smack of their metal blades into wood echoing across the landscape. They did not waste time. The work was done quickly and efficiently.
‘Was it your ship that was anchored down the coast some days ago?’ asked Eadulf.
Osric turned to him with an amused grin. ‘Another question? I thought your Latin merchant’s term was question for question?’
‘If you want to ask me questions, I’ll be happy to answer them,’ Eadulf offered, feeling suddenly comfortable with the young man. Hwicce or no, pagan or no, these were his own people and he felt at ease with them.
‘Well, you are right. We have been up and down this coast during this last week or so. We have been chasing a Welisc ship.’
‘Did you by any chance raid the Welisc religious community near here. . to the south?’
Osric shook his head firmly. ‘We had better things to do.’
Eadulf was surprised by the answer. ‘You did not?’ he pressed.
‘Why do you ask? Do the Welisc claim that they were raided by us?’
‘Some do. A Saxon ship was observed moored in a cove in that direction some days ago.’ He indicated the position with his hand.
‘That was my ship, the Wave-Breaker,’ agreed Osric.
‘Not far from where you anchored, Osric, there was a religious community called Llanpadern. The Father Superior was hanged and the community were taken. Several of the brethren were found slain on the foreshore and some Hwicce weapons were found nearby.’
‘I was not responsible,’ insisted Osric.
Eadulf decided to be bolder. ‘There was also a body of a stranger found at the religious place.’
Osric’s eyes narrowed. ‘I have a feeling, my gerefa friend, that you are going to tell me that this body is significant.’
‘It was the body of an Hwicce.’
Osric regarded him with a serious expression. ‘Describe the body to me.’
Eadulf did so, and the young thane let out a long, low sigh. ‘It was the body of Thaec.’
‘Who is Thaec?’
‘One of my crew. The night that we anchored in the bay you have described, he went ashore with another man. They both spoke the language of these Welisc and offered to attempt to pick up some intelligence. Only one man, Saexbald, came back.’ Osric suddenly glanced around at his warriors. ‘Saexbald! Come here!’
A tall warrior detached himself from the group and came running forward.
‘Saexbald, tell the gerefa here what happened on the night you went ashore with Thaec.’
The warrior turned to Eadulf. ‘We had scouted along the shore when, without warning, a group of Welisc horsemen came on us. We fought but Thaec was
swiftly overpowered, even though he did his best to get himself killed rather than be taken as captive. I was separated from him in the fight and forced to abandon him. I only just managed to get back to the safety of the ship.’
‘Thaec is dead,’ Osric told the man.
‘May he have met his death with sword in hand and the name of Woden on his lips,’ the warrior intoned.
‘Did you know who these Welisc were?’ asked Eadulf.
‘Warriors, no doubt. They fought well.’
‘Did you hear any names shouted by them during the encounter?’
‘Names? No. The only shouting I heard was. . actually it was strange, come to think of it. One of the Welisc warriors seems to have been stung.’
‘Stung?’ queried Eadulf.
‘There was some shouting about a wasp.’
A slow smile of satisfaction spread over Eadulf’s face.
There was a resounding crash as the tree was felled. Almost immediately, the warriors started to strip the branches and the bark, using their powerful axes. Osric signalled the tall warrior, Saexbald, to return to his comrades.
‘Did they torture poor Thaec before he died?’ he asked.
‘He was not tortured. It seems that he was stabbed in the chest with a sword.’
Osric rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Do you think he died fighting?’
‘I am sure of it. I also know that he sorely wounded his assailant.’
‘It would be good to tell his parents that their son died with sword in hand and the name of Woden on his lips, so that he could be gathered up into the Hall of Heroes where the immortals live.’
Eadulf looked disapproving. ‘I cannot subscribe to pagan beliefs.’
‘A man of principle, gerefa? Yes, I suppose you are. But did you see or hear anything which would contradict the story?’
‘Nothing. But why would he have been taken to the community and killed?’
‘Are you trying to tell me that the Welisc religious would not have killed him?’
‘They would not have harmed him unless in self-defence. It was the Welisc warriors who captured him who killed him.’
‘I know nothing of this religious community. We anchored in the bay because it was nightfall and we did not know these waters.’
Smoke in the Wind sf-11 Page 23