The Great Heathen Army

by H A CULLEY

  The rain had passed over by dawn and the next day we headed south-east under a grey sky until we met the old Roman road known as the Fŏsweg. I decided that we needed to put out scouts before we travelled further and I chose myself and Leofflæd in the hope that, once we were away from the others we might be able to talk, although whether I could pluck up the courage to do so was another matter.

  We overtook a few carts as we travelled but there didn’t seem to be any traffic heading the other way. No doubt news of the Danes incursion into Mercia had already reached here.

  ‘Leofflæd,’ I began tentatively, ‘I’ve been meaning to have a word with you.’

  ‘Yes, well, now is not the time or place,’ she retorted. ‘We’re meant to be making sure that the road is safe for the others.’

  ‘I doubt very much whether the Danes have managed to get ahead of us,’ I replied sarcastically, immediately regretting it. This was not how I envisioned the conversation going.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap,’ I added a few moments later.

  ‘If it’s about the time I kissed you, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I can only apologise,’ she mumbled contritely.

  ‘Why? Why would you feel you have to apologise? It was the most wonderful moment of my life.’

  ‘It was?’ She sounded amazed. ‘I thought that you; well, that you didn’t feel the same way about me as I did about you.’

  ‘Why would I think that?’

  She thought about he answer to that, but the shrugged.

  ‘You’re young and, not to put too fine a point on it, naïve and inexperienced when it comes to women.’

  ‘So you feared that I would be filled with lust and just wanted to sow a few wild oats?’

  ‘Something like that. I didn’t want to lead you on just because I was in love with you. I know that you don’t feel the same and well, it could have been awkward.’

  ‘You’re in love with me?’

  ‘Yes. Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that; please forget that I did.’

  ‘But I feel the same way!’

  ‘No, you just think you do because I kissed you.’

  ‘No, I’ve had strong feelings for you ever since we met, and don’t say it’s just a crush. I know it’s a lot deeper than that. I can’t stop thinking about you and I want to be with you all the time. Every time I’ve got a problem, which is most of the time, I want to discuss it with you, and…’

  My voice trailed away as I realised that I was gushing.

  ‘You’re not joking? You really are in love with me?’

  ‘Get down off that horse and I’ll prove it to you,’ I said with a broad smile.

  ‘Whoa, down boy! Save it until we’re alone tonight.’

  My heart started beating much faster as she gave me an impish grin. Then the grin faded.

  ‘What about Jerrik?’ she asked unhappily.

  ‘Is he in love with you?’ I asked, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. He started by being a friend but I think he would like to take it a lot further than that.’

  ‘And have you encouraged him?’ I asked, uncomfortably aware of the jealousy in my voice.

  ‘No! Of course not,’ she replied, glaring at me. ‘I just don’t know how to let him down lightly. The last thing you or I need is someone who’s bitter and resentful; especially if others take sides.’

  I nodded. If I wasn’t careful we could end up tearing our little group apart.

  ‘Perhaps I could ask Alric to have a tactful word?’

  I realised then that my brother’s idea of getting Leofflæd to put him off wouldn’t be a good idea; but perhaps he could be the one to tell him that he was fishing in a pool where the only fish had already been hooked.

  Ϯϯϯ

  ‘Where are we going to spend the winter?’ Jerrik asked two nights later.

  We were now in southern Mercia and he had asked the one question that was on everyone’s mind. Alric must have raised the matter of Leofflæd and me tactfully because he had come up to us the previous evening and wished us both well. He did whisper a crude comment in my ear but I let it pass, grateful to know it wasn’t going to be an issue. When the others saw us holding hands and then heading off to her tent together we attracted a few more ribald suggestions, but everyone seemed genuinely pleased for us.

  ‘Well, I doubt if we’ll find a deserted fort this year,’ Wealhmær, one of the Bernician scouts, said gloomily.

  ‘But there’s nothing to stop us building one, or a fortified hall at least,’ I pointed out. ‘The question is where?’

  ‘Nobles are always short of money, aren’t they?’ Ecgberht asked. ‘Why don’t we buy some land? Then we’d have a permanent base.’

  ‘Or we could seek a powerful lord who’s looking for experienced warriors to add to his warband,’ Cináed suggested.

  ‘But that would mean losing our independence,’ Uurad, the other Pict, objected.

  ‘Perhaps the most important thing is to find somewhere safe to over-winter,’ Alric said. ‘Then we can look for a permanent base in the spring.’

  This seemed to meet with general agreement but we were still no nearer finding a place to spend the winter months.

  The next day we reached Coventre, a settlement which had sprung up around the monastery founded a hundred and sixty years ago by St Osburga, or so we were told in the tavern where seven of us stopped to buy ale whilst the rest set up camp.

  We no longer attracted as much attention as we were all that much older, but people were wary of well-armed young warriors. Four men wearing padded gambesons that had seen better days seemed to take a special interest in us and I saw one of them speak to a scruffy urchin. The man slipped him a coin and shortly afterwards the lad slipped out of the door.

  ‘Those four in the dirty gambesons have just sent for reinforcements, if I’m not mistaken,’ I whispered to the rest. ‘I think we should have a word with them to see what their problem is. Redwald, you and Cei keep watch outside and give a shout if you see anything suspicious.’

  We went over and surrounded the men sitting at the table in the corner. One went for his dagger but Uurad put a knife at his throat before he could draw it.

  ‘Now, now, men; no need to get excited. We are just curious why you sent for your friends as soon as you saw us.’

  ‘No, you’re mistaken. We’re just here enjoying a quiet drink,’ one of the other men blustered.

  ‘You had better watch your step, boy,’ another of the men said. ‘This is our territory. You’ve obviously got money, judging by your fine clothes and weapons. Just give us that pouch you’ve got at your waist and we’ll let you go.’

  ‘Do you think that just because we’re young that we’re wet behind the ears?’

  ‘Careful, lad. You may look pretty with your swords but we know how to use them.’

  ‘Really?’ Redwald asked with a grin. ‘Well then, tell me how many Danes have you killed?’

  ‘Danes?’ the man asked, surprised. ‘Don’t make me laugh. There are no Danes near here. They’re all in Northumbria.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘A week ago they arrived in Snotingaham.’

  ‘You’re lying!’ the fourth man said.

  ‘No, I’m just telling the truth. However, we don’t want any trouble so we’ll leave you to your drinking.’

  Just at that moment Cei appeared to say a dozen armed men were coming down the street. The last thing the tavern keeper wanted was a fight in his premises and so he ushered us out through the back door and we made our way back to the stables where we’d left our horses.

  I was fuming at being forced to leave without our ale, and for no good reason. Perhaps we should have stayed and showed them just how well we could fight, but there was no point. They didn’t look as if they had a silver penny between them.

  That night I reached a decision after talking to both Leofflæd and Alfric. We would leave Mercia and find som
ewhere in Wessex to buy a farmstead. At least there we should be safe from the Danes.

  How wrong I was.

  Chapter Nine

  Winter 867 / Spring 868

  It was late October before we found what we were looking for. By that time we had travelled as far south as Silcestre, a vill in Hamtunscīr, one of the shires of Wessex. We had avoided the larger settlements after the incident in Coventre and replenished our supplies by hunting and by buying vegetables and staples like flour from small settlements. Silcestre was one such settlement.

  We arrived there on a sunny but cold day. We rode through the fields in which weeds had been allowed to grow and pasture land in which long grass and wild flowers predoiminated. I was certain that it could support twice the amount of livestock grazing there at the moment.

  The settlement itself consisted of a hall surrounded by over two dozen huts and a small wooden church that had fallen into disrepair. It had evidently been a Roman camp at one stage, and an important one. The ditch had been filled in over time and the walls had fallen into disrepair. Some of the stone had been used as the foundations for the huts and to build the hall.

  As we approached the latter through what had once a gate into the fort people ran inside their huts, but not before I’d noted the poor quality of their clothing. Of course, some would be slaves but the rest would be ceorls – freemen who owned the neglected fields or rented them off the thegn. The whole place reeked of poverty and lack of care.

  I dismounted outside the hall and a portly man emerged with a boy of about twelve at his side who scowled at me.

  ‘Good day, are you the thegn?’ I asked with a smile.

  ‘The thegn is dead,’ the fat man replied tersely.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Who is the new thegn? You?’

  ‘No, I’m Dudda, the reeve. There is no heir. We’re waiting for King Æthelred to appoint a new thegn.’

  If the thegn had held his land directly from Æthelred, he would have been a king’s thegn; an important man and a member of the Witenaġemot – the high council of the kingdom.

  It appeared that the last thegn had been ill for some time before he died. Dudda, a name which meant round – most appropriate given his rather portly state – was evidently lazy and had let things slide.

  We bought most of what we needed but the settlement didn’t have a great deal to spare. I found that surprising as I was told that the vill consisted of eight hides: that is to say it could support eight families of ceorls.

  We wasted no more time and fifteen minutes later we were on the road to Wintanceaster where King Æthelred was normally to be found. The principle settlement of Wessex wasn’t as large as Lundenwic, but it was just as crowded and just as smelly.

  We were stopped at the entrance to the compound containing the king’s hall by a surly sentry dressed in a leather coat sewn with iron scales, wearing a helmet and armed with a spear.

  ‘Who are you, boy; what’s your business here?’ he demanded gruffly, looking me up and down.

  ‘My name is Jørren of Cilleham and I wish to discuss the purchase of Silcestre with the king,’ I replied.

  He looked at me dubiously and for a moment I thought that he was about to send me on my way, but evidently the way I was dressed made him think twice. He looked to his left where I could see two boys dressed in good quality blue woollen tunics and red trousers playing a game of cyningtaefl just inside the gatehouse. When the man shouted at them, the younger one got up from the table on which the board was set and came over.

  ‘Go and tell the steward that there’s a young noble here who wishes to see the king.’

  ‘But the king’s not here,’ the boy replied in a high treble.

  ‘You know that and I know that but the little lordling here evidently doesn’t.’ the man sneered.

  I moved my horse closer to the sentry so that he had to step backwards and leaned down from the saddle so that my face was a foot away from his.

  ‘Then I will see whoever is in charge,’ I hissed.

  ‘I’ll go and tell the steward that you want to see the Ætheling Ælfred, the king’s brother,’ the boy squeaked before disappearing.

  I backed my horse up and dismounted. Leofflæd did the same and I looked at her quizzically.

  ‘I’m coming with you; that is if you want me to be the Lady of Silcestre?’

  ‘Does that mean we are betrothed,’ I asked, slightly bemused by this turn of events.

  ‘Yes, I suppose it does,’ she said with a grin.

  ‘Don’t I get a say?’

  ‘No,’ she replied with an even broader grin.

  Just at that moment the boy returned and we divested ourselves of our weapons before being allowed into the compound. Leaving the rest of the warband to find fodder and water for the horses, we followed the boy over a series of duckboards laid over the mud, past a stone built church and up the steps that led into the hall. Although hall was hardly the way to describe the king’s accommodation. It was also built of stone and consisted of various chambers leading off a central passageway. At the end stood a pair of doors guarded by two more sentries.

  One of them opened the right hand door and our guide led us through it, standing to one side once inside. I had expected to be taken to see the steward, but instead the boy had shown us into the main hall which was crowded with people. I didn’t pay much attention to them or to my surroundings. My eyes were fixed on the raised dais at the end of the hall.

  Ælfred must have been about nineteen at the time but he was small and thin and looked as if he was two or three years younger. I would be sixteen the following spring but already I was taller and broader in the shoulders than he appeared to be. Then I noticed the woman sitting on a smaller throne beside him. I assumed that must be the Lady Wulfthryth, Æthelred’s wife. Beside her stood a boy of about nine who looked bored out of his mind.

  ‘Who is the boy?’ I asked our guide.

  ‘The Ætheling Æthelhelm, the king’s elder son. His younger brother is Æthelwold, but he’s only six so he’s spared having to attend the daily audiences. I will let the chamberlain know that you are here then I must get back to my post at the gate.’

  ‘What are you,’ I asked him as he was about to leave. ‘A messenger?’

  ‘No, I’m what is called a page, a member of the king’s household. I’m ten, but when I’m fourteen I’ll train to be a warrior and hope to become one of the king’s gesith.’

  The gesith were the king’s companions, all nobles or the sons of nobles, who acted as the king’s bodyguard.

  ‘So you’re a nobleman’s son?’

  ‘Yes, I’m the third son of the Ealdorman of Dorset. I don’t stand to inherit land so the choice is either the church, which doesn’t appeal at all, or become a warrior.’

  With that he disappeared back through the door and we were left standing there, not knowing what to do or what was expected of us.

  Eventually another boy, older this time but dressed in the same way as the boy who’d said he was a page, led us forward to the dais.

  ‘I’ll say your name and you kneel; wait for Lord Ælfred to tell you to rise and then state your grievance or plea, whatever you’ve come here for, as briefly as you can,’ he explained.

  By that time we’d arrived in front of the throne and he left us. I knelt and was conscious of Ecgberht kneeling beside me.

  ‘Please rise,’ Ælfred said in a kind voice, but one that sounded tired. ‘What is your plea?’

  ‘My name is Jørren, lord. My eldest brother is the Thegn of Cilleham. I understand that the vill of Silcestre is now in the king’s gift, the last thegn having died recently without an heir, and I would like to purchase it.’

  Ælfred looked amused and even Æthelhelm looked slightly less fed up.

  ‘And what will you use to purchase the vill? Is your brother so wealthy that he can buy it for you?’

  ‘No, lord. I have silver and even some gold and jewels of my own.’

 
The smile left his face and Ælfred now looked suspicious.

  ‘And how did you come by this treasure?’

  At that moment a man I hadn’t noticed before mounted the dais and whispered in the ӕtheling’s ear.

  ‘I’m told that you have an escort of a score of well-armed youths mounted on good horses. Are you brigands? Is that how you came by your wealth?’

  He seemed to notice Leofflæd for the first time.

  ‘Your warband even includes girls, so it seems,’ he added, looking slightly affronted.

  ‘Leofflæd is my betrothed, lord. We rescued her and her brother from the Danes at Lindocolina. My wealth, such as it is, comes from the Danes we have killed.’

  ‘What were you doing in Lindocolina?’

  ‘Seeking the Danes in order to rescue my other brother, who was captured by them at the Battle of Salteode.’ I paused, then added ‘in Cent.’

  ‘Yes, I know where Salteode is,’ he said testily. ‘And did you succeed?’

  ‘Yes, lord. He is with the others outside the gates of the royal compound.’

  The distrust evident on his face up to now disappeared; Ælfred now looked intrigued.

  ‘You must tell me more, but this is not the time or the place. There are others waiting their turn to be heard. Dine with me later and bring your brother and your betrothed. I want to know as much as possible about this Great Heathen Army.’

  ‘Then shall I bring Erik and Ulf as well, lord? They are members of my warband. You may be interested in what they have to say as they’re Danes, but ones who’ve been baptised as Christians.’

  ‘No!’ the Lady Wulfthryth almost shouted, speaking for the first time. ‘I will not eat with filthy Danes!’

  ‘Then you need not grace us with your presence, sister-in-law,’ Ælfred said frostily, earning him a glare from both Wulfthryth and her son, which Ælfred blithely ignored.

  ‘Come, lord,’ a voice said at my elbow. ‘No doubt you will both wish to bathe and change your clothes before you dine with Lord Ælfred,’ the man who had whispered in Ælfred’s ear said, guiding us away.