THE BLOOD OF THE IUTES
The Song of Octa, Book One
James Calbraith
Copyright © 2020 James Calbraith
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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THE STORY SO FAR
In the year 410 AD, the magistrates of Britannia voted to banish Roman officials and leave the Roman Empire. Years of civil strife and peasant rebellions followed, resulting in the Roman governor, Ambrosius, fleeing to the West, and a man called Wortigern taking over the rule of the eastern part of the island as Dux of all Britannia.
In 425 AD, the Iutes, a German tribe from the East, beyond the Narrow Sea, seeking refuge from a war encroaching upon their land, fled to Britannia. Dux Wortigern settled them on the small island of Tanet under their warchief, Drihten Hengist. One of the Iutes, a child of unknown name, fell overboard during the crossing and was taken in as foster-son by one of Dux Wortigern’s closest comrades-in-arms, Pascent of Ariminum, who named the child Ash.
Under Master Pascent’s care, much like his foster-brother, Fastidius, Ash was taught how to fight, how to read and write Latin, politics, diplomacy, the history and geography of the Empire. A rebellious soul, his first act of mutiny was defying his Master and eloping with the local girl, Eadgith. Though both were forgiven, Eadgith was banished from the villa, and Ash was sent to Londin, to prepare for baptism. It was there that he met his fellow Iutes for the first time, and discovered his roots — though not, yet, his true identity.
After playing a crucial role in helping settle the Iutes on the Briton mainland, and defeating an army of forest bandits led by warchief Aelle, Ash was given a seat in the Londin Council, at the right hand of Dux Wortigern; at that time, he fell in love with Drihten Hengist’s niece, Rhedwyn — and earned himself jealous hatred of Dux Wortigern’s only surviving son, Wortimer.
Now in his twenties, Ash found himself at the centre of events that changed Britannia forever. After helping foil Wortimer’s first coup against his father, he supported Dux Wortigern in his struggle against Bishop Germanus, who arrived from Gaul ostensibly to stem the last vestiges of Pelagian heresy, but in reality, to undermine Dux Wortigern’s rule and help his enemies come to power. Faced with excommunication, Dux Wortigern called for a Council of Bishops of Britannia; far from bowing to Germanus’s power, however, the Dux used the Council to announce his turning to the faith of the pagan Iutes and, to cement his alliance with Drihten Hengist, the marriage of Rhedwyn and Ash.
None of his plans, however, came to fruition. Ash, recovering from a wound suffered during a hunt, remembered his past: he was Rhedwyn’s brother; he was Aeric, son of warchief Eobba, and their union was, unwittingly, an incestuous one. Worse still for Wortigern, Wortimer and the Bishops allied against him and overthrew him for the second time, banishing the Dux and his supporters into the West.
Captured by the new Dux, Rhedwyn was forced to bear Wortimer’s children, while Ash was tortured and nearly killed, before his fellow Iutes helped him escape. Under Wortimer’s regime, the Britons waged war on all heathens, and while Ash led a resistance inside Londin, outside the city Briton armies destroyed Iute villages and forced the tribe back onto the island of Tanet. At long last, in 452 AD, Ash and Rhedwyn defeated Wortimer: Rhedwyn poisoned the Dux, but died herself giving birth to her daughter, Myrtle. Leaderless, the combined Briton armies were defeated in the great Battle of Eobbasfleot by an alliance of Iutes and Saxons, now led by the same Aelle whom Ash helped defeat many years earlier.
While in Londin, Ash reunited with his first love, Eadgith, and discovered he had a son, Octa, abducted by Wortimer’s men. After the victory of Eobbasfleot, Octa returned to his mother and was sent to be tutored by Fastidius, by now the Bishop of Londin. Eadgith was given the rule of a small Iutish colony on the island of Wecta; however, the colony was soon attacked by a rebellious cousin of Drihten Hengist, Haesta — secretly allied with Aelle and his Saxons. Ash, sent to investigate, managed to repel Haesta’s assaults, but not before Eadgith died in his arms.
Faced with the growing threats to the tribe’s future, Ash — now known by his birth name, Aeric — saw no other option but to overthrow Drihten Hengist, disband the slow and ineffective gathering of the tribal elders, and declare himself king — Rex Aeric I of the Iutes. He also brought his son Octa back from Londin, to prepare him to one day inherit the king’s circlet...
NORTHERN GAUL, C. 450 AD
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Britannia
Aelle: Rex of the Saxons
Aeric I: Rex of the Iutes
Betula: Gesith, commander of King Aeric’s household guards
Fastidius: Bishop of Londin, brother of King Aeric
Haesta: rebel chieftain of the Haestingas clan
Octa: aetheling of Iutes, son of King Aeric
Hrothwulf: chieftain of the clan settled on the River Limenea
Ursula, Audulf, Gille and Bana: companions of Octa
Frankia
Basina: Hildrik’s betrothed, Thuringian princess
Clodeswinthe: wife of King Meroweg, Queen of the Salian Franks
Hildebert: chieftain of the River Franks tribe
Hildrik: aetheling of the Salian Franks, son of Meroweg
Ingomer: Meroweg’s brother, chieftain and merchant
Meroweg: Rex of the Salian Franks
Sigemer: Meroweg’s brother-in-law, chieftain of Camarac
Odo: former cavalry Decurion, now a merchant in Bononia
Weldelf: chieftain of a clan of River Franks
Seawine, Odilia, Oxa, Haeth, Nodhbert, Huda: Iutes captured by Frankish pirates
Gaul and Rome
Aegidius Syagrius: legatus of Imperator Maiorianus
Agrippinus: magister militum of Gaul under Imperator Avitus
Arbogast: Dux of Trever
Asher: Rav, leader of the Iudaeus community in Coln
Avitus: previous Imperator of Rome
Falco: Praetor of Icorig
Maiorianus: Imperator of Rome
Odowakr of Skiria: barbarian warlord
Paulus: Praetor of Ake
Pinnosa: Comes of Coln
GLOSSARY
Caldarium: hot room of the Roman bath
Carcer: a prison
Ceol: narrow, ocean-going Saxon ship
Centuria: troop of (about) hundred infantry
Centurion: officer in Roman infantry
Circus: chariot-racing stadium
Comes, pl. Comites: administrator of a pagus, subordinate to the Dux
Curia: administrative building in a Roman city
Decurion: officer in Roman cavalry
Domus: the main structure of a villa
Drihten: war chief of a Saxon or Iutish tribe. Drohten in Frankish.
Dux: overall commander in war times; in peace time — administrator of a province
Equites: Roman cavalry
Fulcum: Roman shield wall formation
&nbs
p; Fyrd: army made up of all warriors of the tribe
Gesith: companion of the Drihten, chief of the Hiréd
Hiréd: band of elite warriors of Drihten’s household
Hlaford, Hlaefdige: Lord and Lady in Saxon tongue. Herr and Frua in Frankish
Insula: a block of streets in a Roman city
Liburna: Roman warship
Mansio: staging post
Pagus, pl. Pagi: administrative unit, smaller than a province
Praefect: Roman military commander
Praetor: high administrative or military official
Praetorium: seat of the Praetor
Pugio: small Roman dagger
Rex: king of a barbarian tribe
Seax: Saxon short sword
Scop: Saxon poet and bard
Spatha: Roman long sword
Stofa: Saxon bath hut
Villa: Roman agricultural property
Tengri: chief god of the Huns
Vigiles: town guards and firemen
Villa: Roman agricultural estate
Wealh, pl. wealas: “the others”, Britons in Saxon tongue. Walh, walhas in Frankish
Witan: gathering of the Elders
PLACE NAMES
Ake: Aachen, Germany
Andreda: Weald Forest
Anderitum: Pevensey, East Sussex
Arduenna: Ardennes
Arelate: Arles, France
Ariminum: Wallington, Surrey
Bagac: Bagacum, Bavay, France
Bononia: Boulogne-sur-Mer, France
Camarac: Cambrai, France
Cantiaca/Cantia: Kent
Coln, Britannia: Colchester, Essex
Coln, Germania: Cologne, Germany
Dorowern: Dorovernum, Canterbury, Kent
Dubris: Dover, France
Eobbasfleot: Ebbsfleet, Kent
Epatiac: Portus Aepatiacum, near Etaples, France
Icorig: Icorigium, Junkerath, Germany
Kelb: River Kyll
Leman: Portus Lemanis, Lympne, Kent
Limenea: River Limen, Kent
Londin: Londinium, London
Lugdunum: Lyons, France
Medu: River Medway
Mettis: Metz, France
Mogontiac: Mainz, Germany
Mosa: River Meuse
Mosella: River Moselle
New Port: Novus Portus, Portslade, Sussex
Remi: Reims, France
Rhenum: River Rhine
Robriwis: Dorobrivis, Rochester, Kent
Rutubi: Rutupiae, Richborough, Kent
Saffron Valley: Croydon, London
Tamesa: River Thames
Tanet: Isle of Thanet, Kent
Tolbiac: Zulpich, Germany
Tornac: Tornacum, Tournai, Belgium
Traiect: Maastricht, Netherlands
Trever: Trier, Germany
PART 1: CANTIACA 458 AD
CHAPTER I
THE LAY OF BANA
I force myself up the steep, soggy dune slope; the damp, almost oozing sand swallows my feet with every step. When I reach the summit, my thighs are burning, my knees are buckling, my chest feels as if clamped by an ever-tightening chain. A leather satchel bumps at my side, heavy with bread and a flask of ale. A dense lattice of shallow scratches, from the myriad of tiny thorns of gorse and bramble I had to push through to cut the route short, covers my arms. Dark spots dance between my eyes.
I bend down, leaning against my legs, gasping. I hear my pursuers close behind me, running up the dune. My prey is far ahead, but I still have a chance to draw closer before we get to the seashore. I just need to catch my breath first. I have been running for nearly a mile, uphill and downhill, through tall, sharp grass, greasy mud and wet sand. I feel exhausted… and it’s only the beginning.
I hear hurried footsteps approaching. I don’t need to look; I know that pace. I take a deep breath and brace myself for the inevitable.
Ursula runs up and slaps me on the bottom with full force. I wince. She laughs.
“What’s wrong, Octa? Ran out of breath already?”
“I was giving you a chance to catch up!” I reply, and rush downhill while she’s still laughing. I leave her behind, but I have to slow down when we’re on flat ground again, and by the time we reach the boats, we’re running head to head.
I’m quicker to push the boat into the waves of a quickly ebbing tide, but I’m having trouble with the oar, and soon she moves ahead by a boat length. Audulf is nowhere to be seen — has he reached the other side, already?
I’m not too worried. There’s plenty of time to race ahead. We’ve got two miles of the narrow channel to cross until we reach Tanet, and I’m a better rower than she is. I look ahead and see one more boat before us, halfway across the strait. It must be Gille. The small, Frisian boy is the fastest runner of us all, and would have been the first to reach the sea, but he’s weak with the oars, and Audulf must have overtaken him in the water. It doesn’t look like I can catch up to either of them before the island, but I’m going to give it my damn best try.
I soon reach Ursula, our boats so close I could reach out and grab the long, thin braid of black hair flowing down her back. She grunts and picks up the pace, but it does her no good. With a wave and a grin, I pass her by. She wobbles her boat, trying to push me off course. I pull at the oars and push ahead.
My father would be pleased with us. He insists that anyone who wants to be a Iute warrior needs to be able to swim and row a boat; possibly because he himself was never good at either. He has feared water ever since childhood, when he almost drowned in a sea storm. I don’t believe I have the makings of a warrior — I always imagined myself as a priest or a scholar, like my uncle — but I like the thrill of the challenge, especially if I can share it with my friends.
“Damn you, Octa! I’ll get you in the swamp!” Ursula cries between gasps.
“Looking forward to it!” I cry back. The burning in my shoulders reminds me it’s still a long way to go — we’re not even halfway across the channel — so I slow down a bit, to conserve strength for the last stretch of the race.
With the final push of the oars, the boat grinds on the gravel. Audulf’s and Gille’s boats are already here. There’s no chance for me to outrun Audulf now; second place is the best I can hope for. I leap out into the shallow water, wade onto the shingle beach. It’s an even worse surface than the sand on the other side. I shuffle more than run, before finally reaching the steps carved into the low, white cliff that bounds the island from the south.
In leaps and pulls, I climb to the top. I drop to my hands and knees and glance back down — Ursula just reached the bottom; I give myself a few seconds to calm the fiery stabbing in my chest before picking myself up again. I see Gille — a few hundred paces ahead, along the remains of the old palisade. He’s moving slowly; he must be exhausted after crossing the channel. I launch into one last dash; he hears me, looks back and scowls, but has no strength left to go any faster.
I run past him and reach the opening in the palisade, and finally see the target of our race: a great stone, standing upright, carved with red runes all around the edge, and with magical symbols and weaving figures in the centre. Audulf is already here, of course; he’s leaning against the standing stone, chewing on a reed. I reach the stone, tap it with my hand and fall, face-first, into the soft, foul-smelling mud.
It’s hard to believe that, not so long ago, this fly-infested, swamp-soaked, mud-pit of an island was home to an entire tribe of Iutes, a few thousand of my kindred, squashed together, waiting, refugees from the land across the sea, threatened by war, at the mercy of their Briton hosts. Nowadays, the island is mostly empty, except for a few fishing villages on the outskirts and some shepherds raising their flock on the seaweed left scattered on the beach by the tides. The palisade marks the spot where the Iutes once had what counted for the capital of their island “kingdom” — a mead hall, surrounded by what must have been a tightly packed village of cottages built from the ships in which they ar
rived in Britannia, the only timber available on the island. Now all that remains is the rune stone, recently carved — and a fresh grave at its foot: the last resting place of Hengist, the first and last Drihten, all-chieftain of the Iutes in Britannia.
I sense a stomping in the mud and open my eyes to see Ursula’s bare feet next to my face. I lift myself on my elbow. Gille is the fourth to reach the rune stone — he must have given up as soon as I overtook him. Now, there’s only one of us left still in the race.
“Has anyone seen Bana?” I ask.
Ursula, wincing with ache from strained muscles, hobbles up to the opening of the palisade and looks out.
“He’s still not here.”
I frown and sit up. I open my satchel, take out the ale flask and take a long swig. It was cool and clear when I started the race; by now it’s a warm sludge. I bite a piece of bread. Audulf takes out a sausage from his bag, tears it in two and gives a half to me and Ursula.
“It’s been too long,” worries Gille. “What if something happened?”
We were supposed to spend the whole afternoon on the island; after the race, practice some wrestling and swim in the sea — clearer and wilder on Tanet’s eastern shore than in the muddy channel between it and the mainland; but for this, I need all of my friends together, and so, with a heavy sigh, I stand up.
“Let’s have a look,” I say. “Maybe he’s lost the oars. Again.”
I first see Bana’s boat, still there on the beach where we left it, and breathe out in relief — at least the boy didn’t drown in the channel. Moments later, I see Bana himself; he’s not alone.
The Blood of the Iutes: The Song of Octa Book 1 (The Song of Britain 4) Page 1