Blood Enemy

by Martin Lake

  ‘It is a mighty prize,’ he said cautiously. ‘Wessex has never gained a better.’

  ‘But is it ours to keep, Edgwulf?’ Alfred said. ‘This is what troubles me. Are we no better than the Danes if we keep it from the Mercians?’

  So, Æthelred’s jibe had hit home. Alfred always wished to do the right thing and be seen to do it. His decision to keep Lundenburh did not feel right and it tormented him. Edgwulf knew that he would need to advance his arguments with the greatest care.

  ‘Our taking the city from Guthrum has not come without price,’ he said. ‘The Danes might think it an act of treachery, a declaration of war. And the mere fact that we took that risk can only alert them to the importance we place upon the city. Even now Guthrum and his chieftains will be pondering anew the strategic value of the city. Pondering how our winning it has been a disaster for them and a godsend for us.’

  Alfred smiled to himself. They thought alike, he and his old friend. They planned ahead, weighed outcomes, gains and losses in the balance. Yet there was a difference. He had always to give thought to the largest picture. In the past, it had been to the survival of Wessex and the royal line. Now it was fast becoming the survival of the English race, Saxon, Angle and Jute.

  Edgwulf, on the other hand, gave his attention on how to achieve Alfred’s dreams. He looked every bit as far ahead but he focused on the detail, on the steps necessary to reach the end of the journey, on the perils and pitfalls along the road.

  Sometimes this would puncture the larger vision, or hinder it. But more often than not it would aid it. Alfred, therefore, always gave as much attention to his Horse-thegn’s views as to his own. It was not always comfortable but it was necessary.

  Now, he realised that he had spent so much time thinking about the effect that taking Lundenburh would have upon the Mercians he had neglected to consider the effect upon the Danes.

  He shook his head ruefully. Edgwulf’s comment had served to make the conundrum yet more difficult to solve.

  ‘Would it make much difference if we gave the city to the Mercians?’ he said. ‘If we let them garrison it with their own warriors.’

  ‘Not if they remained there steadfastly, perhaps.’

  ‘I see no reason why they wouldn’t.’

  Edgwulf did not reply for a moment. ‘I wonder what Ethelnoth would say to this. He might doubt that the Mercians would remain constant friends of Wessex. That they may even be tempted to give up the city as they did half their kingdom.’

  ‘Ethelnoth would wonder these things, I’m certain. Which is why I’m asking you and not him.’

  Edgwulf placed his hand upon Alfred’s shoulder. ‘And are you not asking him because you fear you won’t like what he will say? And yet, know in your heart that he speaks wisely?’

  Alfred sighed.

  ‘You are right,’ he said, his voice heavy with reluctance. ‘Lundenburh is too important to risk, too important to give to the Mercians. We must keep the city and place our own soldiers here for ever.

  ‘Yet I would have the Mercians’ friendship, Edgwulf. Weakened and dismembered though they are. Mercia was once the greatest of all English kingdoms. If it is our friend then we might yet triumph against the heathens. If it is our enemy, we may succumb.’

  ‘Then we must give them another prize,’ Edgwulf said. ‘We talked of Lundenwic.’

  Alfred scoffed. ‘That is worth so little it might seem a worse insult to offer it.’

  ‘Another city then, or perhaps Berkshire?’

  ‘A whole shire for one city?’ Alfred was incredulous.

  ‘Lundenburh is worth more, far more. The loss of Berkshire would trouble my sleep for one night or two, the loss of Lundenburh for the rest of my life.’

  Alfred stared at him in silence. This was an argument of immense weight. He had no words to counter it.

  ‘I’d rather not Berkshire,’ he muttered at last.

  ‘Me neither. But something of great value would be necessary.’

  ‘Yes. But what?’

  Edgwulf shook his head. To that question he had no answer.

  But Æthelred of the Mercians did.

  He came to Alfred the following morning.

  ‘I have consulted with my chieftains about the old city,’ he said. ‘We realise that you will not give it up to us.’ Here he gave a wry smile. ‘I cannot blame you, Alfred, for nor would I in your position.’

  Alfred poured him a cup of wine.

  ‘But Mercia demands something in return,’ Æthelred said. ‘Something to show your good faith. Something I can take back to my people and not have them condemn me as a fool and a dupe.’

  ‘I understand,’ Alfred said. ‘My advisers and I have been considering this as well.’ He paused, not wishing to indicate that the long hours of deliberation had produced nothing concrete to offer. ‘Have you any suggestions?’

  ‘Yes,’ Æthelred said. ‘I would have your daughter as my wife.’

  A fierce cold seized Alfred’s heart. His reaction was to shout no, never in a thousand years. But caution prevailed and he turned, seeking time, picked up his own cup and sat down.

  ‘You ask a lot,’ he managed to say at last.

  ‘You have Lundenburh.’

  ‘I took Lundenburh from the Danes.’

  Æthelred did not answer, merely sipped at his wine.

  ‘My eldest daughter?’ Alfred said at last.

  ‘Of course. Your middle daughter, I hear, has been dedicated to the church and your youngest is still a child.’

  Alfred gulped at his wine. ‘Aethelflaed is still a child.’

  Æthelred did not deign to answer this. It was a falsehood, and a desperate one.

  The silence grew intolerable.

  ‘I must consult with my advisers,’ Alfred said at last. And, perhaps, tell my daughter, he thought.

  Æthelred bowed and left.

  Alfred’s advisers were sharply divided on the point. Ethelnoth, Aethelflaed’s godfather, was firmly against it, Edgwulf more inclined to agree. Denewulf, the Bishop of Winchester sat on the fence, sniffing to see which way the wind blew. At the back of his mind he wondered whether to intervene by requesting that the girl become an abbess in his see.

  Alfred wondered whether to summon his council, the Witan, to discuss such an important matter. But such a move would suggest reluctance on his part, perhaps even contempt for Mercia. He dare not risk this.

  He agonised over Edgwulf’s warning of a few days before. Mercia as a friend might help Wessex triumph against the Danes. As an enemy, an ally of Guthrum, it could well destroy it.

  In the end, his heart cold and bitter as a frozen lake, Alfred said that he would agree to the marriage.

  ‘Thank you, my friends, for your words of honest counsel,’ he said. He dismissed them and sat alone for an hour. Finally he summoned a servant. ‘Send my daughter to me,’ he said.

  She came at once, her face full of cheer as it always was at seeing her father.

  But the moment she entered the room she saw something was terribly amiss.

  ‘What is it father?’ she asked. ‘What’s happened?’

  He pulled a chair close to his and bade her sit down.

  ‘I have important words to say to you,’ he said quietly.

  Something in his tone made her stomach clench in fear. ‘I’m listening,’ she said.

  ‘You are my daughter,’ he said, ‘the person I love most in all the world. I want your happiness above all things.’

  He paused and Aethelflaed died a little. Why would he talk about happiness unless he had to tell her something dreadful?

  ‘My mother?’ she asked.

  ‘Your mother is quite well,’ he answered.

  She sighed in relief but then her mind leapt to wonder what else might be wrong. Tears welled in her eyes. Was her father deadly ill? Was he going to die?

  ‘People such as us,’ he continued, ‘kings and their sons and daughters, have always to put their kingdom and their people before them
selves. Not for us the normal lives of ordinary people. Sometimes, for the greater good, we have to make sacrifices we do not wish to.’

  She held her breath and just managed to stop the tears from flowing.

  ‘A daughter of a king is a mighty treasure,’ her father continued. ‘She can win kingdoms with her grace as surely as her brothers can with a sword.’

  ‘You mean to marry me off?’ she said.

  He sighed, thankful that she had spoken the words he dreaded to say. He nodded.

  ‘And the man?’

  ‘Ealdorman Æthelred of Mercia.’

  She looked at him with scorn. ‘An ealdorman? I thought that at least I’d be worthy of a king.’

  She got to her feet, raging. ‘I thought you would say you wished me to marry the King of the Franks or the German Emperor. But an ealdorman? And not even a Saxon.’

  ‘He is the most powerful man in Mercia. We need his friendship.’

  ‘We need Guthrum’s friendship even more. And he, at least, is a king. Why don’t you just truss me up and send me to East Anglia to your Danish friend.’

  Alfred began to weep.

  ‘I do not wish this, believe me. You are the world to me, Aethelflaed, my most precious child. I do not wish you apart from me.’

  ‘Then don’t do it.’

  ‘I have to.’

  Silence settled on the room. The world seemed to have slowed, each moment like a dying creature.

  Then Aethelflaed spoke. ‘You’re swapping me for the city. You’re giving me to the Mercians because you don’t want to give them Lundenburh. A pile of stones is worth more to you than your own flesh and blood.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘No,’ she cried. ‘A thousand times no. I will not marry that dreadful man.’

  ‘It is my command,’ he said. ‘I am your father and your king.’

  ‘And I am the daughter of kings,’ she cried. ‘And I will not be bought and sold like a common harlot.’

  She strode out of the room. And then a thought came to her.

  ‘I’m going home,’ she called.

  He shook his head in confusion. Her home was where he is. And there lay the terrible, insoluble difficulty.

  A NEW TASK

  ‘I have a duty which you must not refuse,’ Edgwulf said.

  ‘I am eager to hear your command, lord,’ Ulf said.

  ‘You might not be so eager to fulfil it,’ Edgwulf said. ‘The King has decided to send alms to Rome. The gift of a fragment of the Cross has moved him mightily. He wants to give a kingly gift in return. He has decided to give ten chests of gold and silver to the Holy Father in Rome.’

  Ulf gasped at such an immense amount of treasure.

  ‘The party will be led by Ealdorman Sighelm of Kent and Bishop Athelstan. It will be guarded by fifty warriors including ten King’s-thegns. You are to be part of the force.’

  ‘But —’

  ‘No buts. I told you that this is a duty you must not refuse.’

  ‘‘I’m not refusing it, lord. But the King said that I was not to fight in a shield-wall. That I was no longer a King’s-thegn.’

  Edgwulf threw back his shoulders as if dislodging a heavy load.

  ‘With such a large guard there should be no necessity for battle,’ Edgwulf said. ‘And the King is adamant that you should go. If anything can calm you, banish the demons which torment you, then perhaps it can be found in Rome.’

  ‘But I won’t be one of his thegns?’

  Edgwulf shook his head. ‘You will keep the lands that have been given to you. But you will no longer hold them directly from the King but from Ealdorman, Ethelnoth.’

  Ulf closed his eyes. It felt like a sop, a coin thrown to a beggar, an act of pity.

  ‘Don’t be ungrateful, Ulf. It’s hard, I understand, but you will never be ceorl again, you will never want for anything. And who knows the crooked turns a man’s path may take.’

  ‘But I’ll never be a King’s-thegn again.’

  Edgwulf did not reply but Ulf knew that his silence was answer enough.

  ‘How can I go on this mission to Rome with honour, Horse-thegn?’ he asked. ‘I have been one a King’s-thegn for five years now, since I was a boy. Yet, now that I’m a man, I lose that status. What will people think of me? The others who journey with me?’

  Edgwulf placed his hand upon Ulf’s shoulder. ‘What you think of yourself is more important than what anyone else thinks, Ulf.’

  ‘More important than what the King thinks? Or what you do?’

  Edgwulf sighed. ‘Perhaps.’

  Ulf shook his head.

  ‘All I ever wanted to do was to serve the King,’ he said.

  ‘And you will be serving him still. By going to Rome.’

  Edgwulf’s tone suddenly grew harsh. ‘Or would you rather slink home to Athelney with your tail between your legs like a whipped cur?’

  He had decided that any other words would encourage Ulf to continue feeling sorry for himself.

  ‘No,’ Ulf snapped.

  ‘Good.’ Edgwulf looked him in the eye. ‘Don’t dare to give up on yourself. I haven’t done so.’

  He grinned suddenly and Ulf, despite himself, smiled back.

  ‘Now,’ Edgwulf continued, ‘Ealdorman Sighelm is in charge of the whole mission. There will be a horde of priests, clerks and hangers-on. He will have his work cut out for him without having to worry about the guards as well. So I’ve appointed your friend Holdwine to command them.’

  ‘That is excellent news,’ Ulf said after a moment. ‘And I shall be proud to follow him.’

  ‘Good. So don’t let me down. You know this was not what I wanted for you, Ulf. But it will be good experience for you none the less. Just make sure that you play your part in getting the treasure safe to Rome. And the Ealdorman and bishop, come to that. And make sure you get back here unscathed as soon as possible. There’s trouble in the wind, I can smell it. We’ll need you back with us as soon as possible.’

  Edgwulf strode away and then paused. ‘Perhaps you can help Holdwine choose the guards,’ he said. ‘It will be his first experience of command and any support you can give him will be helpful.’

  ‘But shouldn’t a King’s-thegn help him in this?’

  Edgwulf shook his head. ‘Don’t try my patience any more, Ulf. Just do what I ask you to.’

  Holdwine and Ulf spent the next few hours pondering who they wanted to come with them on the long journey. And then they spent the rest of the day trying to persuade them to come. A few wanted to, or said they did. But most who they approached were reluctant. Holdwine soon realised that asking would not be sufficient. He had to order men to come, using the authority of the King and Horse-thegn to back him up.

  Only five of the thegns that he approached agreed to come with any sign of willingness. One of them, to his relief, was Grimbold. The remaining five agreed to come with great reluctance and only because they knew that the King demanded it.

  ‘I think you should take Cuthred as well,’ Ulf said to Holdwine, next day.

  ‘The blacksmith?’ Holdwine said. ‘The man from Kent?’

  ‘Yes. He’s a good smith, expert with horses and handy in a fight.’

  ‘Won’t he be wanted back in his village?’

  Ulf shrugged. ‘It’s my village so my decision. The people there will have to find a new smith.’

  ‘A smith will be good on such a journey,’ Holdwine said.

  ‘That reminds me,’ Ulf said. ‘How long will it take to get to Rome.’

  Holdwine shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘But you’re in command. You should know.’

  Holdwine frowned. He had no more idea than Ulf did. But his friend was waiting for an answer.

  ‘Twenty days,’ he said at last, clutching the first number that came to mind.

  ‘That’s not too long then,’ Ulf said. ‘I feared it might be longer.’

  Holdwine sighed. ‘I hope I’m right,’ he muttered to himself
.

  There were over a hundred people in the party which set out for Rome. Fifty warriors, thirty priests and clerks and the rest a rag-bag of servants, camp-followers and those who persuaded Sighelm that they had something valuable to offer on the journey. He was normally easily persuaded.

  More people arrived with every passing day: villagers who wanted to flee their village, a few young men keen on adventure and others who saw the opportunity for mischief and good pickings.

  It took the party ten days to travel from Lunden to Dover.

  ‘Only ten more days before we reach Rome,’ Ulf said with a sigh of relief.

  ‘It was only a guess,’ Holdwine said with a grimace.

  ‘But you said twenty days.’ He clapped Holdwine on the shoulder. ‘I believe you. I’ve told all the others.’

  Ealdorman Sighelm approached.

  ‘We shall have to cross the channel in a dozen ships,’ he said. ‘I think it best if you divide your men amongst them. Put a couple of thegns in each ship, a few more in the one bearing the treasure.’

  Ulf detained him. ‘Would it not be better if we distributed the treasure chests among the ships. If the ship bearing the treasure were to sink or be taken by Vikings then our mission would be a failure.’

  Sighelm nodded. ‘Now I see why Edgwulf chose you to come with us. It is a good plan, Ulf.’

  He glanced at Holdwine who nodded in agreement.

  ‘Do as you think best,’ Sighelm said. ‘But make sure that you have trusted warriors to guard the treasure.’

  In the end Holdwine decided to take the treasure across in five ships, two chests in each. He allocated three of his thegns to each of these ships, distributing the others amongst the other half dozen ships. He also used his warriors to dissuade a score of the new arrivals from crossing with them. He kept four young men who looked as though they could be useful in a fight, a old woman who had already proved adept with healing herbs and one strange young man called Bryni who had fingers as sly as a cat. He felt he might be useful in foraging for food.

  It was a calm crossing although Cuthred and Holdwine seemed to compete with one another in the amount of spewing they could manage.

  Ulf who had been brought up in the wetlands of Somerset felt completely at ease on the water. He spent the whole crossing watching the waves foam against the hulls of the boats and listening to the cries of the seagulls. He had never seen such a huge stretch of water before and he was captivated by it. He was disappointed when they approached landfall on the coast of Francia.