Viking Enemy

by M J Porter

  In a hive of activity Leofwine had Oscetel arrange those men who would accompany him to Oxford, and those who would stay behind. He also had him organise small scouting parties to be sent to the North, South, East and West of his lands to inform whomever they met of the menace, and to ensure that no raiders had infiltrated so far just yet. As a final thought, he commanded that the Abbot at Deerhurst be informed. This done, he began the less than pleasant task of telling the rest of the household. The servants and his men were awaking slowly to what was assumed to be a typical day. In a few short words, Leofwine had the entire household bustling around, readying the men and the farm for whatever may come.

  Ǽthelflaed and the maid quickly took charge of Northman but not before Leofwine had thanked his small son and bid him be brave in his absence. Northman seemed to have understood most of what the Reeve had told them, and as Leofwine readied himself to leave, still before the sunrise, the boy’s voice reached his ears.

  “Mother, when the raiders come here, will I be allowed to fight them?”

  Leofwine grimaced at the words pouring from his child’s mouth. He didn’t want the boy to be thinking so, and yet at the same time he felt relieved that his son was ready to defend his family.

  Ǽthelflaed responded to his innocent question with only a slight tremble in her voice, “Only if the other men have all fallen, and it’s to be hoped by God’s grace that doesn’t happen.”

  Northman seemed content with the answer and walked away to play with his younger brother. Leofwine caught Ǽthelflaed’s sad eyes as she looked at her oldest child, so keen to be a warrior at such a tender age.

  “Did you not wish to have a sword and fight at his age?” he joked to calm her melancholy.

  She glared at him and then her face softened, “I suppose so, but still, it is hard to see your own child so hell-bent on following his father’s path.”

  “Come now. I only fight when I must. I don’t seek it out.”

  “I suppose not,” she sighed. “Travel carefully, and I will see you the day after tomorrow, I hope. Send word if it’ll be longer or I’ll worry.”

  “Of course,” he said, “but you’ll worry regardless.” He stepped closer to his slight wife and gathered her in his arms, kissing her passionately, and trying to ignore his flaring desire for her.

  “I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”

  ****

  For all the rush and haste that Ragnor had shown, when Leofwine arrived at Oxford, there was not the hive of activity he’d been expecting. Arriving mud-splattered, cold and hungry he was surprised by the utter sense of calm he was initially greeted with. Only when he sought out the King in his home did he find any source of confusion or panic.

  The King was angry and frustrated, his face bright red, as he listened to the advice that the men were offering him. He was attempting to determine where the raiders were and how many they numbered, but with each new report from a different messenger, the picture became more and more confused. Leofwine understood the King’s anger. According to the messengers, there could be anything from ten to a thousand men, in either one or ten different places. The only thing they agreed on was that they were near the lands of Ælfric, and it was Ælfric who now held the King’s ear.

  Tempering his frustration that he’d been stirred so abruptly to action when none other seemed to have been, Leofwine announced himself to his King. The King looked neither relieved nor angry to see Leofwine, although Athelstan flashed him a rare smile from his position seated next to the King, on a slightly raised wooden dais.

  “Ah, Leofwine, I see you have made all haste to get here quickly. I thank you. Did Ragnar fully inform you of the situation?”

  “He did, my Lord. I’ve come to hear your instructions, and I will call out the fyrd as you see fit, and ensure it is commanded well.”

  Æthelred smiled slightly at the words, the lines of worry temporarily leaving his face.

  “I know you will, Leofwine. You have my complete trust and I’ve your total support, but I don’t yet think it’s time to call out the fyrd of the old Hwiccan kingdom. However, as of now, I’d like you to extend your authority to all of the old Mercian lands, and that was really why I wanted to see you. You’ve performed your duties well in relation to the Hwiccan kingdom, and I need a man of your experience and steadfastness to hold all the old Mercian lands. They’ve borders with many of our foes and are open to easy attack in too many places. I’d meant to gift you with the added duties last year, but the arrival of Pallig drove the idea from my mind.”

  “I’ll write to my Reeves and inform them of my decision. There might be some resentment, but I imagine that when they’re faced with a shipload of raiders, they may be more receptive to you and your men. And perhaps you could offer some advice on how they can best defend their lands. The burhs are still most effective but might benefit from some repair work being carried out. The area has been without an ealdorman for some time. Please act as you see fit.”

  “With thanks, my Lord,” Leofwine stuttered, shocked by the turn of events.

  “Don’t thank me yet, Leofwine. You might well wish I’d not given you the title and the lands. Now, if you’d coordinate with Athelstan regarding where you’ll send your men, he can keep a note of who is where and why they’re there.”

  Leofwine bowed to acknowledge the King’s orders. As he did, he caught Ælfric glaring at him, his unhappiness at what must have been a new idea of the king’s blatantly showing on his face. Leofwine turned away from his King feeling a little uneasy. Ælfric already held a huge area for the King. He couldn’t imagine that Ælfric could effectively manage more, so why would he be unhappy with Leofwine’s elevation?

  The King had made it clear that it was a decision mitigated by military need. Ælfric had proved himself to be less than capable in that arena in the area he governed. Leofwine marvelled that he would want to show himself to be even more inefficient over a larger area, for surely that was what his bad temper portended.

  As Leofwine, Athelstan and Wulfstan poured over the rough maps they had for the Mercian lands, a steady stream of food and drink were delivered to them. Leofwine barely noticed what he ate, but appreciated feeling full and warm.

  The King kept up a steady barrage of orders for the men who were announced into his presence and when Leofwine left early the next morning he carried with him hope that they would defeat this new attack, no matter how large it was. For all his anger at the situation, the King did at the least appear keen to counteract the attack. Leofwine had never seen him so fired up.

  1001 – Part 2

  They rode home as if pursued by the raiders, and Leofwine was not even off his horse’s back when he began to issue commands to his household troop. He was clear in his mind as was Athelstan that the old lands of the Mercians needed to be monitored closely. Their enormous border with the lands of the Danelaw had, in the past, fallen easy prey to any who decided to throw in their lot with the raiders. Even with strong leadership from the previous ealdormen, who had for many years been related to the King, the incursions had been a cause of concern.

  Leofwine was part of that old family network, his father a noted member of a slowly dying family. Leofwine assumed, rightly or wrongly, that his position as ealdorman of the Hwicce was in part an accident of his birth. He might think the King had raised him from obscurity to his Witan, but his King had not thought the same.

  Ǽthelflaed, Wulfstan, Horic and Oscetel held a lengthy discussion that first night back as they considered the actions they needed to take. The King had gifted Leofwine with property and land to fulfil his role as the Hwiccan Ealdorman, but Leofwine had chosen early on to spend most of his time in his father’s house. The position on the periphery of the Mercian lands now made that seem untenable, and with a heavy heart he realised that they would need to spend more of their time in the central lands.

  Athelstan had named a number of residences where they could relocate most easily but still no decision could be m
ade as to which one would be best. In the end, the decision was made that they would set out for Lichfield, and then having assessed the situation they could stay or move on to another house.

  Ǽthelflaed was a flurry of activity as she tried to organise the household she was leaving while preparing for a house she’d not yet seen. Finn had been pressed into service by her as she made lists of things she needed and things she wanted. His scribing skills had been more than helpful, and Ǽthelflaed used them as often as she could. She’d even convinced him that he could help Northman learn his letters.

  Finn had been severely shaken when he’d first arrived. Like Wulfstan, he’d needed to be handled with care. His shell-shocked state had been born with patience, and he was now an active member of Leofwine’s ever-growing household. Leofwine knew that all he needed now was a priest and his household would be as elaborate as the King’s own.

  The King had also, by gifting him the Mercian people, increased the dues he owed to the King. It meant that as a matter of some urgency he needed to increase his household troop. His men had some ideas as to which youngsters their Lord could advance. Some of the squires would make good warriors, and so would some of the more adolescent boys who routinely joined in the training that his troop endured each day.

  Leofwine preferred to have a direct say in any arrangements, but for once he deputised to Wulfstan and Horic. The men knew his mind well, and as they’d be responsible for training and would be dependent upon their warrior skills, he thought it best they have the final say.

  It was decided that Horic and his wife would stay behind to run his house near Deerhurst and be on hand to dispatch messengers and troops to assist the King and the ealdormen in the southern lands. Horic was also tasked with keeping Leofwine informed of events he heard about, just in case messages directly from the King to Leofwine were disrupted. As they discovered the state of affairs within Mercia, Leofwine would act accordingly, possibly leaving others of his men in charge of swathes of areas, so that he could attempt to keep abreast of the situation.

  As darkness began to fall on his last day at the home of his birth, Leofwine felt himself grow a little melancholic. There had been no specific names mentioned but he felt confident that Swein of Denmark would be involved in the raiding parties. His threat to Leofwine and towards England had been clear in its intent, and even though the King thought that by keeping Pallig of Denmark close he was pleasing the Danish King, Leofwine was less sure.

  Horic had spoken of rumours of discord between the two men, for all that Swein was a relative by marriage of Pallig, and those rumours were not even current. Leofwine wondered if after nearly five years the two men had grown closer or further apart. He feared that they’d grown closer and that they’d decided that the best way to take England was by stealth from the inside out, as raiders distracted the King and his ealdormen from what was really happening in the Western Provinces where Pallig now ruled as Ealdorman.

  ****

  Lichfield was a distance of two days of slow and steady travel, allowing for his servants and his family to keep pace together. They spent the night away from home sleeping within the walls of the monastery at Coventry and then hastened on early the next day when the early morning activities of the monks disturbed the children from their exhausted slumbers.

  Tired and grumpy, the entire party set out on a blustery day, pulling their cloaks tight about them. Leofwine rode with Leofric wedged between him and his saddle, while Northman sometimes rode alone on a small, sturdy horse, and other times allowed Wulfstan to share with him. The joy of the journey had soon turned sour for both young boys, and they’d lapsed into a sulky silence until allowed to run havoc around Coventry monastery. Not even the stern looks of the monks had flattened their energy.

  Leofwine took in the view of the countryside as he travelled, and on occasion stopped to speak to the men and women who worked the fields. Often they were greeted with initial hostility – none of the hard-working farmers wished to see a small, armed troop marching through their land – but once Leofwine or one of his men had made introductions, the reception was far more positive. The people of the fertile farmlands were pleased to know that they’d not been forgotten by the King who in recent years had been more wont to send a Reeve to see to his business than one of the ealdormen.

  They reached Lichfield during the early evening and were quickly able to find the church, high on a hill and beside it a neat and tidy house where smoke billowed invitingly through the small roof slits for ventilation.

  A petite woman, finely dressed, stepped through the doorway and closed it tightly behind her, an attempt at a smile of welcome on her face, and Leofwine slipped from his horse, pulling Leofric down as well. The little lad, relieved to be free from the horse, ran around excitedly until his mother caught him up into her arms as she too dismounted.

  The woman stayed where she was, looking back a little uncertainly behind her as Leofwine stepped forward to greet her. She didn’t flinch at his lopsided face, but she stared openly and jumped back in shock when Hunter, at his side, stepped forward to examine her and sniffed her hand.

  “Well met, my Lord Leofwine. I’m Brunhild, wife of the Reeve. I’m afraid that he’s away on business,” her voice wavered as she spoke, her attention divided between the gigantic hound who terrified her and the well-armoured man who stood before her with all the menace contained in the story of his damaged face and war gear.

  It was evident from the way that she spoke that she wasn’t sorry for her husband’s absence, but it was difficult to tell whether she meant it from a personal perspective or whether it was intended as a slur against Leofwine. He smiled blandly at her, nodding once to acknowledge her words. She didn’t welcome him inside.

  “But you were clearly informed that we would be arriving? Otherwise how else would you know my name?”

  He spoke with a forced smile on his face as he watched her face process an assortment of emotions.

  “Well yes, my Lord, but only yesterday, and I’m afraid my husband was already away. Even if we’d not been informed, I’d know who you were anyway. There are few men who carry their disfigurement quite so openly as you,” her eyes darted uncertainly to where she could see the members of his household troop dismounting behind him as her voice trailed away, and she realised that she’d spoken a little too openly.

  “It’s no matter. Wherever he is, he’ll have been informed of my arrival, and I must apologise if you’ve been in any way inconvenienced by making room available for us within.”

  She flinched at his words and looked a little helpless. Leofwine was left thinking that his King may well have spoken only too truly when he said he should not thank him for the honour yet. It seemed that he couldn’t even talk his way past this woman to gain entry into the King’s house.

  Seeing that she wasn’t going to welcome them inside, he merely stepped past Brunhild to glance inside the building. A searing heat greeted him, not unwelcome on the chilly evening, but a shock all the same.

  The room was not unlike his home, only slightly smaller and more sparsely decorated. There was a huge roaring fire in the fire pit and a handful of men and servants were happily eating from a table laden with meats and bread.

  He stepped back to Brunhild,

  “I see that at least you’ve prepared a welcome feast for us?”

  “My Lord Leofwine,” she swallowed nervously, “the feast hasn’t been prepared for you, but of course, you’re welcome to partake. I’m not sure if we’ve enough for all of your party, though.”

  “Who is the feast for? There are few of you here, and yet the eating has already begun.”

  Again, she looked about uncertainly. Leofwine had already decided he didn’t like the nervous-looking woman. Whatever was going on here, his arrival was clearly unwelcome and unlooked for and that annoyed him. He’d come to do little but the King’s bidding. He’d have expected to be at least welcomed before the Reeve began trying to see him off his area of responsib
ility; this cold shoulder at the door was totally unacceptable.

  Behind him, Ǽthelflaed appeared with the children, the baby fussing to be fed. He felt uncertain, though, and before letting her enter, gestured for Oscetel to precede them inside. The man was accompanied by his squire, and was still fully armed from his time on the road. He’d heard most of the conversation between Leofwine and the woman, and inclined his head to her as he stepped past her into the building.

  Leofwine could hear him clomping around inside and a few harsh words were spoken, and then the noise of something scraping over the wooden floorboards. Oscetel returned with a beaming smile and bowed at the waist in welcome to his Lord. Leofwine suppressed his mirth at the play-acting of his man. He’d taken an intuitive grasp of the situation and was now acting the part of the host better than the actual host.

  He held out his hand for Ǽthelflaed, who glanced between the two men questioningly before stepping inside the house. Leofwine winked at her and then turned aside as his two boys and Hunter shot inside the house, almost knocking him from his feet.

  Brunhild held back her shock at events and allowed herself to be led inside by Leofwine. Once inside, Leofwine noted that the scuffling noise had been Oscetel forcibly removing the table of food to a more central location, close to the fire pit so that all who entered would find a spot to sit and a bite to eat. He sought out his man and found him having a clearly, forcibly polite conversation with two men, Brunhild’s housetroops he supposed, who objected to Leofwine’s abrupt arrival and who’d enjoyed too much mead.

  Ǽthelflaed was seated close to the fire feeding a fussy Ealdgyth, while his boys tumbled on the floor climbing over and around Hunter who took it all with good grace as she licked at a massive bone that someone had given to her. Leofwine’s men were slowly trailing in behind him, Wulfstan having given instructions on who could eat and who could stand guard. Leofwine had not expected to need to guard himself within his own future home; he would need to exert his influence here and earn the respect of people he’d not even considered wouldn’t be pleased to see him.