Northman Part 1

by M J Porter

  The reports from yesterday had even hinted that some of the shelters might be being made more permanent. The sound of axes on wood had reached the ears of the scouting party, and almost everyone was ready to accept that the Raiders were preparing themselves for the winter months. It was nearly Michaelmas. The weather was turning chilly, the morning damp, and this persistent rain was churning the hard packed earth to mud and covering everything in a layer of filth.

  The king’s sons were as sullen as the rest of the encampment, Edmund now back with his brother following his enforced captivity with Thorkell, and Northman was at a loss as to what would happen now. Would the king allow them to break camp and return to warmer winter quarters, or would they stay here, all winter long, ensuring that Thorkell and his men didn’t get out from Oxford?

  His father had paid a brief visit to the camp only seven days ago. He’d brought with him details of the king’s countrywide penance, and the request that they all take part. The men’s morale had raised a little at the thought that the king was still thinking of a way to defeat the Raiders. But news from further down the Thames was showing that Thorkell’s rougher men were making lightning quick raids across the lands and people were in danger if they left the safety of their homes and fortified farms.

  The harvest was in, the gates of all the burhs had been closed and were only opened when a representative of the king arrived. To all intents and purposes, an expectancy pervaded the land. Just about accepting that Thorkell wouldn’t attack now, no one was quite willing to drop all arms and hold firm against the coming winter storms. There was the possibility that the month after Michaelmas would be fair, and if it was, Thorkell could escape or attack.

  The fyrds had gathered in the separate ealdormanies, but soon even their service would come to an end, and then everywhere would be unprotected unless the Reeves and Royal officials kept their personal household troops on high alert.

  Beside him, Olaf snorted in his sleep, and a grim smile spread across Northman’s face. His friend had taken to the enforced inactivity by reverting to sleep for almost the entire day. Northman had been teasing him for his bear-like qualities, but Olaf wasn’t concerned. He was a growing boy and the day passed far quicker if he slept through most of it, and then stayed up late playing small games with the other men. Northman wished, not for the first time, that he could sleep.

  Later that day a messenger arrived from the king and a whisper of interest lifted the spirits in the camp for the time being. The king had decided that the small army camped at Oxford should be replaced. The men had cheered with some joy at the thought of warm beds and warm food, but Athelstan looked sour when Northman went to seek him out later that evening.

  “Northman,” he spoke dully, as he entered the tent.

  “Athelstan, what ails you?” Northman responded.

  “Bloody Eadric.”

  “What’s he done now? Northman asked, his heart sinking. He’d almost managed to forget all about his foster father.

  “Somehow, he’s managed to convince the king that his men should come and take our place here. What tricks does he have planned now?” Athelstan moaned, annoyed and dismayed in equal measure.

  “Surely he’s just trying to win the trust of the king?”

  “Ah Northman, I wish I could share your positive spin on things. I can’t help thinking that if we let Eadric anywhere near these Raiders, he’ll cause harm. Again. I’ve not forgotten, although my father seems to have done so, that it was Eadric’s brother who depleted our ships only a few months ago. If not for him, our men would not have been so disillusioned that they dispersed home as soon as they could. If the ship-army fyrd had just stayed on alert for a day or two more, they would have stopped Thorkell and we wouldn’t have spent two months scratching our arses, watching him eat our food.”

  Northman couldn’t deny the logic of the athelings reasoning, and yet, his thoughts had turned inwards to himself. What would he do if Eadric demanded him back? He’d become used to being one of the household troop, looking to Athelstan and Edmund as his Lords, knowing that his father respected him for his acceptance of his impending manhood now that he was needed for greater things than listening to Eadric’s half-cooked schemes.

  Belatedly, Northman realised that Athelstan was looking at him,

  “Apologies my Lord, I was thinking of Eadric. What did you ask?”

  Athelstan gave him a look of understanding,

  “I was asking what you’d do when we return to the king, now that Eadric is no longer under house arrest.”

  “I was thinking the same, and being honest, I’m not sure. I’d prefer to stay amongst your men.”

  “I’m sure you would, but whether that will be possible or not I’m unsure. I suggest you come with us, provided we don’t hear from either your father or Eadric in the meantime, bed down with us for the winter. I’ll be returning to my hall, train with us and then we’ll see what the new year brings.”

  Grateful to the atheling for being as concerned with his future as he was, Northman returned to find Olaf waking from another daylong sleep. He was grinning and full of joy to be leaving, but Northman was uneasy. Now that Athelstan had pointed out to him the probable intent behind Eadric’s actions, he shared his unease. And with that discomfort came the belief that, if he was to truly be his father’s son and a loyal man to the king, he should offer to remain here with Eadric. The thought made his gut clench, and bile choke him.

  Chapter 22

  AD1009 - Northman – Wantage, Near Oxford

  As it transpired, Eadric had no more forgotten about his foster-son, than Northman could forget his father was Leofwine, the famous half-blind Ealdorman of the Hwicce, the one-time personal enemy of the mighty king of Denmark and now almost friend. Even before they’d packed up their camp, causing a flurry of activity at Oxford itself, where Thorkell’s men watched them with the beady eyes of hawks, a small force arrived at the campsite with instructions from Eadric.

  Feeling deflated, and also pleased that the decision had been taken from him and that he must keep an eye on Eadric, Northman sought out Athelstan. The atheling was apologetic, but Northman had no time for that.

  “My Lord, I’ll do my best to learn all that Eadric has planned. We’re to go to the king’s palace at Wantage and ride out each day to check on Thorkell and his men. If you arrange for men loyal to yourself to cross my path, I’ll pass on what knowledge I can.”

  Athelstan’s eyes blazed with fire at the thought of his spy within Eadric’s camp, and quickly he called five of his most trusted warriors to him. He explained what would happen, and the household troops gave Northman admiring glances.

  “We’ll attempt to cross paths with you at least once a week,” the leader of the small group advised him. “There’s a small farm not far from here, and they’ll happily rent us their barn and a place to sleep for the winter if we pay them handsomely enough. Not to mention, they’ll welcome having their war band with them. But, we’ll try not to compromise you at all. Once Eadric spies one of us, another will take their place. If we exhaust our small band, we’ll send for others.”

  A little bounce in his step, Northman hastily said his goodbyes to Athelstan and Edmund, sad he’d not see them anytime soon, but pleased to have thought his way out of his self-inflicted predicament.

  Eadric hadn’t sent just anyone to get him, but his youngest brother, Æthelweard. Northman didn’t have any feelings of love or loathing for the man, but knew he shared many of his older brothers characteristics; a little mean, a little belittling, and more than a lot of attitude and self-belief. His time as a hostage with Thorkell had not improved him at all.

  Olaf had groaned at the news, but once Northman had whispered of their intentions, he too cheered, and greeted the band of ten men amicably enough. And to their credit, they waited until they were out of sight of Athelstan and his men before they began chiding and berating the boys for abandoning their Lord and foster-father. As the reality of what was happening
sank in, Northman felt his anger and grief at his casual handing over as a virtual hostage for his father’s good behaviour surge through his body. He held the rage deep and close to his chest. He was going to need it if he was to survive another winter with the scheming Eadric.

  Wantage was one of the king’s finest halls and a mark of utmost respect and concern that he now let Eadric take control over it. Eadric only marked Northman’s arrival by a small rise of his head from where he ate at the top of the king’s hall. The bruises and rapidly swelling eye that marred his face were clear indications that his brother had carried out his wishes as he’d hoped.

  Spitting blood and anger, Northman found himself a small space to call his own and cursed his inability to fight off ten men at once. Olaf was unscarred; clearly, he didn’t share Eadric’s anger, for which he apologised so often that Northman grew short-tempered with him and demanded he be left alone.

  Hungry, but warm for the first time in days, and with the stable structure of the wooden hall around his head, Northman slept deeply and soundly until he was rudely woken by a kick to the face in the morning. Waking in pain and hunger, Northman leapt from his bed, grabbing the chest of the man who woke him so.

  Not caring when he recognised Eadric’s brother, Brihtric, he growled,

  “Leave me alone you piece of shit, or I’ll have no choice but to pay you back for my face. A little more respect in future.”

  At his feet, Olaf had gasped with fear and shock, rudely awoken by the altercation. But Brihtric only laughed in his face when Northman gradually reduced his hold on his tunic.

  “You and who?” he asked mockingly. “You’re a little child, no more than that, and we’ll treat you as such. Now get dressed. You’re on the first recon.”

  Northman let his anger cool, and turned away from Brihtric without apologising. It was about time they started to treat him as more than a child, and for all the arrogant words that had burst from Brihtric’s mouth, Northman had felt him shake a little in fear at his violent response, and he knew that Brihtric knew it as well. Smirking, and ignoring his pounding head, Northman dressed and strode outside into the early morning. Tomorrow the countrywide penance would begin, but he doubted he’d be allowed to join in. Just another petty way that Eadric, who’d not even spoken to him yet, would punish him.

  A small team of twenty men milled around outside, and Northman noticed that Eadric was intent on leading this foray himself. His heart sank at the idea. Clearly, he did have greater things on his mind than just watching Thorkell, for why else would he lead something as insignificant as a reconnaissance trip?

  “Northman,” he called arrogantly, “you’ll ride with me. You know this land well, and I’d welcome your advice.”

  Cursing his bad luck, Northman mounted his waiting horse and walked him over to Eadric. He sat smugly atop his horse, his disgrace with the king a thing of the past, just as Eadric had forgiven Brihtric.

  “You’ve grown boy,” he said without preamble, and Northman felt his resolve falter again. How in just three words had the man offended so much?

  “It’s been many months since I last saw you,” Northman responded, clinging to the truth to stay civil. “I’ve been training with the household troops on a more than daily basis, and my physique has improved significantly.”

  “Hum,” Eadric responded vaguely. He was evidently disappointed that Northman had reacted so calmly. “And now you’ll make use of your knowledge to assist me in keeping a careful watch on Thorkell.”

  “Gladly, my Lord. We were making daily forays around Oxford. We will be doing the same?”

  “It’s doubtful. I don’t have the resources at my disposal that the king does. But once a week should be enough once the weather turns.”

  Biting back his horror that Thorkell was to be allowed so much leeway, he wondered why Eadric had agreed to babysit Thorkell if he had so few men. Concentrating on ensuring his horse’s tack was correctly fitted, he didn’t give Eadric the satisfaction of knowing how dismayed he was. If Thorkell watched Eadric carefully enough, he’d know how often they were checked on, and when the best time was to make good his escape. In effect, he’d be able to gain nearly a week’s worth of grace without any trouble. He and his men could get almost anywhere in England with a week between their escape and it being noticed.

  “And of course, once the weather turns, you’ll be able to make the forays on your own, with some of my men, of course. So pay attention and look well, boy.”

  So dismissed, Northman ambled back towards where Olaf was grumbling into his saddle. He did little more than roll his eyes in annoyance but Olaf understood all too well. The constraints of being back with Eadric were onerous.

  The return journey to Oxford was accomplished more quickly than the day before. They arrived to discover the embers of the fires of the encampment barely cold. Northman took some consolation in the knowledge that Swein wouldn’t yet have had time to do anything but note the withdrawal of the troops. He’d now need to bide his time and discover what the English king had in store for him. He glanced into the distance where he knew Athelstan’s men would have made their winter hideaway, but he saw nothing to suggest anyone was remotely close; no smoke from a fire marred the skyline.

  The flames from Oxford itself smouldered spasmodically in the damp day, as they neared it, Eadric deciding on the route, despite his words to Northman to the contrary. Sitting on a small rise, he glanced out at Oxford, with a strained expression on his face. Northman wondered what he thought about but received his answer in an unexpected way.

  With a grin of delight, Eadric kicked his horse into action and tore across the land towards the gates of Oxford. Beside him, ten of his men followed him and Northman realised that this had been pre-planned. But what did he hope to achieve?

  More sedately, and with concern, the rest of the small force followed their Lord towards the gates of Oxford, Northman not once taking his eye from the firmly closed gates. He had a terrible feeling that he knew what was going to happen next.

  Before they caught up with Eadric, the gates of Oxford came fully open, and an answering force of no more than twenty men erupted forth. They were mounted on beautiful horses, and Northman recognised Thorkell, Cnut and Hemming amongst their number.

  Incautious now, he raced to catch Eadric. He wanted to hear every single word of this exchange so that he could work out if it had been planned or if Eadric was just trying to make his mark.

  He arrived to angry exchanges between Thorkell and Eadric aided by Hemming. He didn’t know what they argued about, but Cnut was smirking, his contempt for Eadric written into his very stance.

  “…gone, and we will be here, watching you instead. My men will make more mobile camps, a little smaller, but no less threatening.”

  Thorkell waited for the words to be translated, even though he seemed to understand many of them anyway, his eyes rising to where he knew the camp had lain before that day.

  “And is this just a courtesy call?” Hemming inquired when he’d finished speaking to Thorkell.

  “An opportunity to get to meet you that is all.” Eadric simpered, “I’ve heard much about you from Cnut.”

  Cnut spluttered with amusement at the lie Eadric spoke, but made no other move to deny it.

  Thorkell took the time to look at Cnut, who shrugged the comment aside but something made a little more sense to Thorkell then, and he moved towards Eadric with a more menacing stance.

  Eadric backed his horse off a little when Thorkell came too close to him, and spoke to Hemming, while his eyes remained on the mighty warrior. From his position, Northman couldn’t see Eadric’s face, but he imagined it sheened in sweat.

  And then something happened, only Northman again didn’t see what, and a grin spread across Thorkell’s face, and he quickly turned his horse and headed back inside Oxford. Confused, Northman tried to replay the events in his head, but could discern nothing that Eadric had done to cause that reaction.

  A smile
on his face, Eadric turned away from the closed gates and proceeded to circuit Oxford. The whole time, Northman wondered what had happened and what import it might have. But he didn’t receive any answers.

  They returned to Wantage, and daily life resumed as it had done before the disaster with the ship-army. As Eadric had advised him, a weekly foray out to Oxford, even when the snows came, was all that was required of him. That, and enduring the daily verbal beatings from Eadric and his men.

  Despite his fears, he was able to partake in the king’s penance, when as if for three days, the kingdom came to a standstill. The words of prayer were the only ones that passed most lips, and only the barest of foods. Northman prayed earnestly for those few days hopeful that this tactic would work, fearful that it wouldn’t. As with many of the men, he realised that he’d not know if it had been successful or not until the beginning of the summer season.

  As winter advanced he kept a close eye on Eadric, and sent word when he could to Athelstan’s men, but other than that first meeting with Thorkell, Eadric never again left the hall, or at least, not as far as Northman knew. He did have a niggling fear that on the days he went to Oxford Eadric was himself going elsewhere, but he never gained any proof, not until the weather turned for the better and he realised what a fool he’d been not to understand his intent and send word via Athelstan’s men near Oxford. And then, it was all too little, too late.

  Chapter 23

  AD1010 – Northman – Early Summer