by Griff Hosker
Saxons Dawn
Book 1
in the Wolf Brethren series
By
Griff Hosker
Published by Griff Hosker 2013
Copyright © Griff Hosker First Edition
The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
Dedication
This is dedicated to you my readers. I am gratified that you continue to buy my books and, I hope enjoy them. I will continue to write them, if only because I enjoy creating the stories and the characters and, I hope, bringing history to life. A special thanks to Rich and Alison who are always the first to get my books. I appreciate your support and your comments. I am also grateful to my wife Eileen for her much needed proof reading.
Table of contents
Map Page 6
Chapter 1 Page 7
Chapter 2 Page 26
Chapter 3 Page 44
Chapter 4 Page 65
Chapter 5 Page 87
Chapter 6 Page 106
Chapter 7 Page 127
Chapter 8 Page 148
Chapter 9 Page 170
Chapter 10 Page 190
Chapter 11 Page 210
Chapter 12 Page 231
Chapter 13 Page 251
Chapter 14 Page 272
Chapter 15 Page 295
Chapter 16 Page 314
Chapter 17 Page 339
Chapter 18 Page 357
Glossary Page 370
Historical note Page 372
Other books Page 375
Britain in the late 6th Century
Chapter 1
Hen Ogledd 570
I was seven years old before I ever heard of either the Angles or the Saxons but their coming changed my life for ever. My name is Lann, and my people were the last of the Britons, the last of the people who lived alongside the Romans before the Angles, the Saxons and the Norse came and stole our land. Our life, before they came was simple and hard but bearable. We lived in the land which the Romans had called Britannia but they had left in the time before my grandfather. We had been told tales of their buildings and their warriors, but they were just a story, to be told at night when the wolves howled and we listened for the sound of raiders coming for slaves. They were told in the hope that one day they would come back and bring prosperity and security to this land once more. The wall, which the Romans had built, lay many day’s travel to the north. We lived in the land called Hen Ogledd. We were the last of the Britons or so my parents had been told by the king and his warriors when they had once travelled through our land. I had seen neither him nor his warriors, but my mother and father assured me that he lived still and fought against the slavers and the invaders.
My family lived in an old hill fort which came from before the time, even of the Romans. It was called Stanwyck and it had many ditches to protect it and high ramparts. A stream ran though it and we were comfortable there. There were many families who lived within its defences but we were not a community; we had little to do with the others. Each family kept to themselves. In times of strife the men and boys defended the walls but there was no leader and no clan. We kept a few animals and our diet was augmented by hunting and gathering. There were four in my family; my father was called Hogan. He was a quiet man but immensely strong. He had sired me when he was little more than a boy himself for he had been orphaned in a slave raid and had chanced upon my mother, Radha, who had also been left alone when the northerners raided. They were a well matched couple. My mother was called Radha for her red hair and my father swore that she had some of the Hibernian in her; she had a fiery temper. She was also something of a shaman and healer. It was said that she could read dreams. Others said that she was a witch, although they always said that when well out of hearing distance of both of my parents. She had given birth to me when she was but fourteen. We lived in a harsh world in those days. By dint of my father’s hard work he had served others and earned money enough to buy a few animals. He was also a powerful man with animals and could train them well.
So it was that as I grew I began to learn from the gentle man that was my father. He gave me a pup he trained so that I could look after the small flock of sheep we had gathered over the years. Many of the animals had been the ones who escaped the wild northerners and were without owners, others had been gained through trade and barter. When my brother Raibeart came along, three years after me, I was given the task of training him. We kept the sheep on the higher pastures in the summer which is where we spent most of our time. I learned, when guarding the flock, how to use a slingshot and hit the occasional rabbit. My father promised me that, when I was a little older and stronger, he would make me a bow and teach me how to use it. He was so powerful that he could pull back a yew bow which was almost as tall as he was. It meant we ate well for he was a good hunter. When we had a surplus we traded it with the others who shared our hill fort or with the traders who still trudged up and down the old Roman Road which ran nearby. They were our only contact with the rest of the world and it was from them that we learned of the coming of the Angles and the Saxons. We were told that they came from across the sea and they were fierce warriors. The traders left us in no doubt that they would come to our quiet backwater of Britannia. It was only a case of when. I saw the looks my parents exchanged and it worried me. I saw concern on their normally calm faces. If they were worried then the Angles were to be feared.
Raibeart and I had been out with the sheep and Wolf, my sheepdog. We drove them from the hills back to the willow pens my father and I had built. We had just put the last hurdle in place when Wolf put his ears down and began to bark; that meant only one thing, strangers. I took out my sling and looked towards the ramparts in the north. Others had emerged from their huts with sticks and farming tools. We were not a violent community but I knew that we would defend ourselves if attacked.
I saw the adults relax as they saw the frail woman and the thin, weeping child come through the entrance to the south. The rest of the people went back into their huts but my mother and father remained outside. They were both intelligent and thoughtful people. When visitors passed through, it was they who spent the longest time asking questions and they were both hospitable. Perhaps it was the fact that they had been left alone that made them so compassionate, I do not know. The woman and the thin, emaciated child made their way towards us.
“Welcome, I am Hogan and this is my wife Radha. You look as though you have travelled far.”
In answer she collapsed to the ground and the child fell upon her crying and hugging her still form. “Take her inside. Lann, fetch some fresh water from the stream.”
By the time I returned to the hut, with the pot filled with cool water, my parents had laid the woman on the furs by the fire. My father smiled as he took the water from me. “Look after the boy eh Lann? He looks terrified.”
We always had a pot of thin soup on the fire; somehow it never seemed to run out and my mother put some in a beaker and held it to the woman’s lips. I turned to the boy. “What is your name?” he stared at me in terror.
My father handed me a deer bone from a pot. There was a little meat still on it. “Give it to him. He,
too, looks hungry and then pour him some water.”
I handed the bone to him and he began to attack it as though he had not eaten in days. When I passed over the beaker he still retained hold of the bone. He reminded me of the dogs when they were given food and they protected it with their paws and growled at any who looked enviously at it.
“Come we will eat now. The woman is sleeping and the boy looks happier.”
Our fare was the same as the woman and the boy’s. We also had soup which we ate from crude pot bowls my mother had made from local clay. She could have bought some from the pot maker who lived not far away but it was cheaper to barter some meat for the use of her oven. Thanks to my father’s skill our diet was more varied than most.
We had finished when the woman stirred and the child raced to her side. “Thank you for your kindness. We have not eaten for some days.”
“You are welcome. Have you travelled far?”
With the boy nestled in her arm she told us her story. “I am Monca and this is my son, Aelle. I lived south of the old Roman fort with my husband and three sons. One day the Angles came and they killed my husband and my sons.” Her voice was flat and without emotion as though she had cried all the feelings out of her. “They killed every man and boy. I was then taken.” She looked at my brother and I and I saw the look exchanged between my parents. I did not know what it meant but they did for they drew closer together. She pulled her own child in tightly to her thin body. “This is the child I had with Scead.” She gave a shudder. “He was a cruel man and he liked to beat me. The river fever took him in the spring and I left with my son before the other Angles discovered it for I would have been taken by another.” She shuddered. “Were it not for Aelle, I would have killed myself. We heard that some of the older people lived near to the wall and we have walked all this way seeking people of my own kind and not the invader. You are the first that have shown kindness.” She hesitated, “Are you Christian?”
“No we worship the older gods and you?”
“No I also worship the gods of this land but Christians are said to show kindness to strangers.” She struggled to rise. “Thank you for your help.”
“Where will you go?”
The blank look on her face told them that she had no idea; she was just doing what she had done since fleeing the Angles. She was getting as far away as she could from the pain and the torture of regular beatings. Mother looked at father who nodded. “No, you shall stay with us. You will be safe here.”
Her eyes showed her gratitude as she burst into tears. My father was embarrassed by it all and he bustled about. “Lann, get the spare skins and lay them over there.”
And so our family was extended; we had two more mouths to feed. In the long run it saved my life and my brother’s as well as Aelle’s and we did get along. Monca was a hardworking woman and not without skills. She could make fine pots and my father made her a small oven which gave us more goods to trade, apart from the woollen garments my mother made and the dried meat hunted by my father.
We learned to understand the language the boy spoke and he learned ours. Monca was grateful to be speaking her own language again but she knew that the Angles would come again and she wanted us prepared. If we could speak their language then it just might help. Aelle was younger than me and older than Raibeart and he soon fitted in with us. With three of us looking after the flock he was an asset and the following winter my father made me the promised bow. “You will be able to leave your brothers watching the flock and you too can hunt as I do.” Aelle had become my brother as much as Monca had become my father’s second wife. Both women were with child at the same time and neither seemed to resent the other. I think it was my father’s nature that made it work. My mother and Monca seemed to get on really well and it was good to hear them laughing and giggling as they worked together.
In the long winter nights, as I worked on my bow and was shown how to make and fletch arrows, Monca told us more stories of the Angles. It appeared they had left their land when the gods of the sea reclaimed it and that there were many other tribes who lived in similar lands in the same position; all of them were looking for a new home. It was a depressing thought that these people were the first but not the last of the people who would invade us. She told us that many had mail shirts and helmets. They used shields and axes. Her description terrified me as I pictured giants who would kill us and then eat us. We wondered if the gods of the land had deserted us but my father told us that one day the Romans would return, as had been foretold by his grandfather, and they would right the wrongs of the Angles. Certainly we knew that the Romans had been powerful and their work could still be clearly seen across the land. If it was built of stone then it was Roman.
My father took me to one side, as spring began to peer from beneath the snow. “You and I must learn to become warriors Lann or these Angles will kill us and take your mother as they did with Monca.” He held the bow and the arrows in his huge hand. “These can kill men as well as animals. I do not want to fight these people but I will defend what we have.”
“Don’t we have a king?”
He shook his head. “There was one but we have not heard of him for some time. There are many chiefs who have warriors around them but none bother themselves with us. After the Romans left they took over the forts the Romans built and rule the land around them.” He pointed beyond the wattle and daub walls of our hut. “We live here because we can defend it but not against the warriors Monca describes.”
I thought of the Roman stone and I remembered somewhere close to the river. “When we went across the Roman bridge near to the Dunum, did we not see a Roman building?”
He smiled and ruffled my already unruly hair, “You remember well for we only visited there once. Aye there is a fort there but much of the stone was taken by men to build their own homes north of the river.”
”Did the Romans not leave weapons behind?” My father’s grandfather had served with the last Romans and I had heard tales of their weapons and armour. It sounded to me as though that might defeat the Angles when they came.
“I think, not. My grandfather had a sword but he used it to chop wood.” He scratched his beard. “He may have had a helmet somewhere and some mail but they were lost to the family when the slavers killed my father.”
The rest of the winter I spent making my arrows as straight as I could with feathers taken from our noisy geese. If I did not have a helmet, neither sword nor armour I would, at least, have the best bow I could and I would stop the Angles from killing my father and stealing my mother. When I took the two boys out on the fells that summer I became a harsh task master; I taught them how to use their slings well. I practised with my bow until I thought my arms would fall off. We killed many rabbits and squirrels. Our parents were pleased for it filled the pot but I had an ulterior motive, we would become the defenders of our family when the Angles came.
That summer we found more refugees fleeing west. These were families who knew that the invaders were close and wished to avoid the consequences. They did not stop but headed towards the Roman fortress in the west, where, it was rumoured, there was a king who offered protection. It had a magical name, Civitas Carvetiorum and was reputed to be the most magnificent palace in the whole of Britannia. The king was supposed to ride around on a white horse righting wrongs. My father was not convinced, “What would we do there? Would we have land as we do here? Better what we know than the unknown. I think they dream still of Artorius, the last Roman.”
My two sisters were born in the autumn. Their mothers and my father cooed and awed at them but to me and my brothers they were just noisy and irritating. The early morning screaming just drove me and my brothers out earlier. As we headed for the pastures I deviated from our normal route. Raibeart saw this but Aelle was still finding his way around the land. “This is not the route to the pastures?”
“No brother. It is the route to the river and there the grass is juicier at this time of year. We will fatten
them up and it is a shorter journey for us to take.”
He grudgingly agreed for it meant more time for our practice. Wolf could easily control the flock and the three of us knew that we had a very easy time of it. When we reached the river I left the two boys with strict orders to stay put. Aelle always acceded to my demands but Raibeart was flexing his muscles a little and questioning his older brother. He gave me a defiant look and was about to open his mouth when I slapped him across the side of the head. “That is before you even think of arguing!” Tears welled up in his eyes but he bit his lip and stormed off with Aelle in tow. “Mind what I said! Do not leave this place.” Confident that they would obey me I crossed the Roman Bridge. I could see from the weeds and grass growing on its surface that it had seen little traffic. I could see, on the other side, stood the stones and remains of the old Roman fort. I was disappointed for it looked as though they had demolished most of it before it was abandoned but I was determined to search anyway. I could see that they had destroyed anything in the fort which had been useful but I also saw places where the soil was in mounds, as though something had been buried. I found a charred piece of wood which had a pointed end and I began to dig away at the nearest pile. Once I got through the grass and weeds it became quite easy and I felt a thrill as my wood struck something solid. I was encouraged to dig harder. The wood was no longer helping me and so I took to using my hands to clear away the dirt. I found a wooden box. The top had started to rot but it was still quite solid. I made a hole down the side of the box and reached down. I found a leather handle and I pulled. I strained as hard as I could and I was about to give up when, suddenly, it sprang up and out at one end. I dragged it clear. There was no lock and I pulled at the top to open it. I have to admit that I was excited. What treasure would I find within? When the lid finally popped open I was disappointed. After I removed the sacks covering the contents I saw that it was filled with nails and shoes the Romans had used. My father had said they were called caligae and the Roman soldiers had used them.
