In Two Minds

by K T Findlay

  Lynette dissolved into tears.

  ‘Those two silly… Gundy said she’d heard something, and Sighard and I just told her to go back to sleep… she and Oscar must have sneaked out regardless… oh, if only we’d listened to her-’

  ‘If you had, you’d all be dead like your neighbours.’ consoled Wulfstan. ‘It could have been a lot worse. We’ve got Rowena and Freawaru out looking for them, and everyone else is on guard, looking for any stragglers. I’m sure you’ll have them back.’ fibbed Wulfstan. In fact he was anything but confident of their safe return.

  Sighard took his wife gently by the shoulders and led her back to their remaining children in the barn, where most of the women and children had gathered for safety until the all clear was given.

  Marwig looked out into the night.

  ‘A full moon is a double edged sword at times like these. Without it we could not have defended as we did, yet equally, they could not have attacked without it. Even so, they seemed to know exactly where they were going. I wonder how that came about?’

  ‘I can answer that.’ said Melody, who’d just come up to check if the water was ready for Scarlett. ‘The man Fulton killed was Alcott, Cuthbert’s other slave. He must have been working with the raiders and told them the layout of the place. Poor silly Alcott.’ she said sadly. ‘Always a gift for being in the wrong place at the wrong time…’

  ‘Do we know if anyone knows any of the other raiders?’ asked Wulfstan.

  Melody shook her head. ‘People are saying they were just an outlaw band.’

  ‘Outlaw bands don’t have horses of that quality, or if they do, they sell them quickly! Nor do they have that many swords. Perhaps they were an outlaw band, but I think they were working with someone else.’ said Marwig.

  ‘I agree.’ said Wulfstan. ‘In fact I’m sure I recognised the voice of the rider giving the orders, but I can’t quite place it.’

  Their deliberations were interrupted by loud cheering coming from the southern edge of the village.

  ‘I think you’ll want to see this.’ said Thomas in his ear.

  ‘Where the blazes have you been?’ snapped Wulfstan. ‘I needed you to chase the children and tell me what had happened to them!’

  ‘Come and look for yourself.’ laughed Thomas.

  They ran down the southern path past the guest huts where they met Berthilda astride Thunder, with Gundy in front, and Oscar behind. Two horses with baggage slung over them followed on lead ropes, and Rowena and Freawaru brought up the rear. The villagers were crowding around them all, laughing and crying in excitement.

  ‘Berthilda!’ cried Wulfstan. ‘Thank heavens you’re back! And Gundy and Oscar too! How marvellous! How did you do it?’

  Berthilda grinned happily. ‘I just rode faster than they did!’

  ‘You should have seen her!’ said Gundy, bubbling in excitement.

  ‘She knocked Radley clean off his horse to let me escape!’ added Oscar.

  ‘And then she fought the man that had me, and fought him, and fought him, and fought him till he was killed!’ shouted Gundy, not to be outdone.

  ‘Radley?’ asked Marwig. ‘Grimketil’s man?’

  ‘And the other one is Ward, Grimketil’s right hand.’ called out Rowena from the rear. ‘We recognised him.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Marwig. ‘It’s a big accusation to make, if we have to explain this at Court.’

  Berthilda eased off her mount.

  ‘You can check for yourself if you like. We brought the bodies back on their own horses.’

  The men were draped across their mounts, head down on the right hand side. Berthilda grabbed the hair of the one in front and twisted its head to allow Marwig to see.

  Marwig whistled softly. ‘That’s Ward alright. You three did well to take him. He’s an expert swordsman.’ he said looking at Rowena and Freawaru.

  Freawaru shook her head. ‘Nothing to do with Rowena and me. We just gave Berthilda a hand lifting the bodies onto the horses! She’d despatched the pair of them on her own before we got there.’

  Marwig’s jaw dropped in astonishment. ‘You killed both of them? On your own?’ he asked Berthilda.

  Berthilda hung her head modestly.

  ‘Radley hardly counts. I took him by surprise.’

  Gundy couldn’t restrain herself. ‘But you fought my man face to face! He went to get you, and you beat him!’

  ‘Gundy! Oscar! Where have you been?’ Lynette rushed up to Thunder and threw her arms around her children. ‘We’ve been worried sick!’

  ‘We’re fine mum.’ explained Oscar. ‘Berthilda saved us!’

  ‘You shouldn’t have been out at all!’ chided his mother. ‘You wait until your father gets hold of you!’

  Berthilda laughed. ‘They did really well Lynette. They stood up to these two creeps, and then escaped as soon as they had a chance. You should be proud of them!’

  Lynette turned to Wulfstan in confusion.

  ‘A bit of a fright to be sure Lynette, but Berthilda’s right. You’ve even more reason to be proud of your children than you usually do.’ he said. ‘But it’s a good idea to take them off to their father. You should all be together I think.’

  Lynette scooped her children off Thunder, and ushered them away, their excited chatter continuing unabated until they passed out of sight behind the hall.

  When the horses had been safely settled in their stable, and the humans were back around the fire, Marwig held out his hand to Berthilda.

  ‘I wonder, most marvellous lady, if I might have a look at your blade?’

  Berthilda looked to Wulfstan for confirmation.

  ‘There’s no point in trying to hide them now.’ said Thomas. ‘He saw them in action with Deena and Deana. The best we can do is try and get him to keep his mouth shut.’

  Wulfstan nodded, and Berthilda reluctantly handed over her sword.

  Marwig touched the edge, immediately cutting himself.

  ‘Ah!’ he expostulated. ‘Heavens that’s sharp! What an edge!’

  Then, holding it to catch the light from the flames he looked at the rest of the blade, and was astonished to find a complete absence of the beautiful markings he’d expected to find on a pattern welded weapon.

  ‘It’s a single piece of iron! And yet it must be incredibly brittle to hold an edge like that. How on earth do you fight with it and not break it?’ he asked.

  ‘Try a thrust into that fence post.’ said Wulfstan.

  Marwig stood up and gave a gentle thrust into the wood as he’d been asked. The blade flexed easily. A second more vigorous thrust followed, and then a third with all the force he could muster. The blade sprang back into shape undamaged.

  ‘Hell’s teeth.’ murmured Marwig. ‘What an astonishing blade! And so nimble and agile to use.’ he said, flourishing it through a number of moves. ‘Where did you get it?’

  ‘We made it.’ said Wulfstan simply.

  Marwig lowered the weapon and rested the tip carefully on his boot.

  ‘How?’ he asked.

  ‘Can you keep a secret?’ replied Wulfstan.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So can I!’ said Wulfstan, and the entire coterie burst into laughter.

  Marwig the diplomat, nodded in understanding, and returned the sword to Berthilda.

  ‘Thank you. I confess I do not want to hand it back! I have never encountered its equal, not even in the Kingdom of the Franks.’

  ‘We would have you keep our secret too please Marwig, until after the fight with Grimketil. I want the element of surprise.’ said Wulfstan. ‘Will you do that for us?’

  Marwig, a Queen’s man to his core, nodded his agreement. ‘Of course Your Highness. I shall tell no one.’

  ‘Then you shall have a blade of your own after the battle, as a token of my thanks.’ said Wulfstan.

  ‘I am not asking anything for my silence.’ said Marwig softly. ‘I give it freely.’

  Wulfstan rested his hand on Marwig’s arm.


  ‘That my friend, is why I am giving you the sword.’

  ✽✽✽

  Offa was holding court in London when the Archbishop made his appearance, with Cuthbert two steps behind him.

  ‘Ah, Archbishop. What can I do for you today?’ asked the King.

  ‘I’m afraid I come on a most disturbing matter Your Majesty, concerning your youngest son.’

  Offa lifted his right index finger slightly to indicate his acknowledgement.

  ‘Indeed?’

  ‘Yes Your Majesty. As you may remember, I personally selected the priest for Hengist’s manor, young Cuthbert here.’ said the Archbishop, indicating the offending article.

  ‘I do remember.’

  The Archbishop drew himself up to his full height. ‘Prince Wulfstan saw fit to publicly humiliate his priest, the very moment he arrived in the village, and not content with that, had him thrown out the following day with only a handcart to carry his possessions. Even worse, he wilfully deprived the Church of the tithe of one of the villagers. These are grave offences against the Church, and must be put right.’

  Offa steepled his fingers.

  ‘A handcart you say? And Cuthbert pushed it all the way to London, unaided?’

  Jaenberht nodded vigorously.

  ‘All the way Your Majesty, not just to London but to Canterbury! Even further! On his own! He had to complete his journey in bare feet when his shoes collapsed some days before he reached me. I personally saw the blood and callouses on his feet.’

  The King looked serious.

  ‘Goodness me! I am astonished to see him walk in here so easily. He seems to have recovered remarkably swiftly from such a travail.’

  Jaenberht played what he thought was to be his trump card.

  ‘A miraculous recovery Your Majesty! Truly has God looked well upon this son of the Church, a sign no doubt of the virtue of his case. I am afraid I must insist that Cuthbert is reinstated at the manor, and that the Prince be held to account, and forced to apologise in public for his actions!’

  The hall had fallen completely silent, all eyes upon the two men. Offa made no sound or movement for over a minute, and then a thin smile crept onto his face.

  ‘I wonder if you would consider it so miraculous, if a priest had walked no further than from the edge of town to the cathedral?’

  Jaenberht maintained his stony face. ‘But that is not the case here Your Majesty.’

  Offa’s smile deepened slightly.

  ‘You and I have received our news from different sources. My source tells me that Cuthbert had a servant, in all but name at least, who pushed the cart more than nine miles in every ten while Cuthbert walked unencumbered.’

  The Archbishop’s mouth opened and he began to remonstrate. Offa raised a hand.

  ‘To quote my son, I am not finished yet Archbishop. My source also tells me that Cuthbert wore his shoes all the way to the edge of Canterbury, where he removed them, hid them amongst his belongings, and then abandoned his servant in all but name, and made great play of piteously pushing his handcart barefoot to the cathedral, where he told you his tale.’

  Jaenberht was spluttering now.

  ‘Your Majesty! I do not know who your source is, but a priest’s word is the word of God and must be taken as such. You should not listen to the lies of men who denigrate the Church!’

  Offa carefully maintained his smile.

  ‘I am also told that Cuthbert was not denied the tithe. The villager in question had apparently lost all his grain, and most of his land in a flood, and so no longer had the tithe to give. Really, he should have been asked for no more than a tenth of what remained, or rather offered some poor relief from the Church. In any case, the Prince offered that the manor pay the man’s share if it could be proven that the obligation still stood. So the Church lost nothing.’

  The Archbishop’s face was creased with anger.

  ‘Your Majesty. I have known Cuthbert for some time now, and have no reason to doubt his word.’

  ‘And I have no reason to doubt my own source.’ replied the King. ‘Oh. I’m sorry. I meant sources.’

  Jaenberht looked his sternest.

  ‘Your Majesty, the word of a priest should always be taken over the word of a layman.’

  ‘Oh? Pray why?’ asked the King.

  ‘Because he does not just represent God, he must have been chosen by God, and therefore he is always in the right!’

  Offa steepled his fingers again.

  ‘Did you not have a case two months ago, where two of your priests had been fighting? Over a woman, gossip tells us, but that is neither here nor there to my argument. The point is that those two… gentlemen… of the Church, gave differing accounts as to the facts of the case.’

  His smile was positively angelic now.

  ‘They can’t both be right Archbishop. Therefore, we cannot say that whatever a priest says is the correct view of the world, because we have the example of your own people to prove that it is not. Priests can clearly lie, or at least be mistaken just as much as normal men. Don’t you agree?’

  A blush suffused Jaenberht’s face, but he had no counter. Offa looked past him to a visibly alarmed Cuthbert.

  ‘You do not appear to be quite so sure of yourself master priest, as you were when you first walked in. Why is that?’

  Cuthbert gasped.

  ‘I told the truth Your Majesty! I have only ever done my duty.’

  Offa steepled his fingers yet again, much to the Archbishop’s annoyance.

  ‘Well, your duty as you yourself saw it perhaps. I have enquired into this matter since it came to my attention. I can indeed find golden commendations on your behalf.’

  Cuthbert beamed.

  ‘But only from the Archbishop and his minions.’ continued the king. ‘I cannot find a single lay person with a good word as to your character. Not one!’ he said, his voice rising in false astonishment. ‘Now, how do you account for that, master priest?’

  Jaenberht intervened.

  ‘Your Majesty, when a parent chastises his child, the child is not always grateful for his correction.’

  ‘Point. Point.’ acknowledged Offa. ‘But if the entire family thinks the father is a monster, then the odds are that he actually is! However, we can resolve the dilemma as to your future, master priest. I have been made aware of a vacancy to the south east of Tamworth.’

  Jaenberht stiffened.

  ‘Your Majesty? Church appointments are my affair, not yours. With respect.’

  Offa airily waved his hand.

  ‘With respect, of course you meant with respect old friend. It’s only a suggestion on my part of course, but Thegn Grimketil’s village priest passed away from the bloody flux, as I believe the peasants call it, and he needs a replacement. Given the match between their characters, I would have thought Cuthbert would jump at the chance to join Grimketil?’

  ‘But your son!’ cried the exasperated Archbishop.

  ‘Has so far been proved to have done nothing unwise nor illegal, and until such proofs have been furnished, there is nothing to be done. Good day Archbishop, I wish you well in your peregrinations.’

  He waved his hand dismissively, and asked for the next supplicant to be brought in.

  Jaenberht stormed out of the hall, only just in control of his temper. When they’d reached a semi-private place, he rounded on his hapless priest.

  ‘Well?’ he demanded.

  Cuthbert held out his hands to the side, and looked agonised.

  ‘I told you the truth my Lord, as God is my witness.’

  Jaenberht glared at him.

  ‘Do not forget Cuthbert, that he is exactly that!’

  ✽✽✽

  The following day, Marwig was still concerned about getting the King and Queen to believe that Grimketil had been involved in any way with the raid.

  ‘Oh it’s quite easy.’ said Wulfstan. ‘We’ll hack the heads off and stick them in buckets to take to Court with us.’

  Marwi
g grimaced. ‘They probably won’t be all that recognisable when we get them there, and the smell in the meantime will be intolerable!’

  ‘Ah.’ said Wulfstan. ‘That’s where the alcohol comes back in. Come with me.’

  Wulfstan led Marwig to a hut just west of the kitchen, where a large horizontal copper pipe came out of the wall, before dropping down into a big water butt.

  ‘Come and look Marwig and I’ll explain how it works.’

  Inside the hut was an almost spherical copper cauldron, about four feet in diameter, with the copper pipe coming out of it and through the wall. Below the cauldron a fire was burning gently.

  Thomas put on a pair of gloves and pulled off a circular lid part way up the upper slopes of the cauldron and gestured Marwig to look inside.

  ‘We put beer in there, and gently raise the temperature. The steam comes out the top, goes through the chimney and into a copper tube that curls around the water butt outside. That turns the steam back into liquid again, and we get alcohol instead of beer.’

  ‘So you can drink it?’ asked a dubious Marwig.

  ‘Absolutely not!’ said Thomas emphatically into Wulfstan’s ear.

  ‘Not this stuff no.’ said Wulfstan. ‘It would kill you, or make you blind. Not a good idea.’

  Marwig stepped slightly away and looked at the boy suspiciously.

  ‘How do you know all this stuff? It looks like witchery to me!’

  In a flash Thomas was back in the body.

  ‘Thank heavens for that.’ sighed Wulfstan in relief. ‘I was getting well out of my depth!’

  Thomas remembered something. ‘Speaking of which, Melody has a golden glow around her-’

  ‘I know.’ said Wulfstan. ‘I was going to surprise you!’

  ‘Well you did! Do you know what it is yet?’

  ‘Nope. So far it’s just a glow.’

  ‘Okay.’ said Thomas, and picked up the conversation again with Marwig.

  ‘It’s not witchery! It’s what I told you before. It’s watching, and learning!’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Thomas picked up a cup and dipped it into a bucket of beer that was waiting to go into the still, and took a sip before offering it to Marwig.

  ‘Go on. It won’t hurt you.’ he said.