by C. R. May
Gudmund gave a shrug of indifference as the Danes disappeared from view. ‘It would seem that I have made enemies of violent men,’ he smiled. ‘And all before breakfast.’
12
Battle horns wailed and Hemming and Eadward turned their faces to the North, grins parting beards as the first of the outriders cantered into view. Taking the ford in an arc of silvered spray, the pair watched with glee as the riders put back their heels and galloped towards the town. As the defenders clashed spears against shield rims and called their acclamations the scouts divided, sweeping to both sides of Skansen in thunderous columns of muscle, leather and steel.
Moments later the war horn sounded again, and the people of the town tumbled excitedly from their halls to peer northwards as the head of a mighty war host emerged from the tree line and came on.
Free of the tree cover, Eadward gave his companion a dig in the ribs as the white boar war flag of Geatland was teased out in a cats paw of wind. ‘That’s a sight I would have liked to have seen a few days ago!’ They shared a laugh as Hemming picked out the figure of King Heardred, his steel clad figure gleaming like the Morning Star at the head of the riders. The scouts had completed their encirclement, and the English pair watched as the horsemen rode this way and that, scenting for danger like wolfhounds at the hunt.
The roadway led directly through Skansen and Hemming spoke excitedly as the king approached. ‘Come on, let’s get down there.’
The town had been steadily filling with armed men all morning as the men of the Geat levy rushed in to bolster the defences, and they crowded the vantage points, yelling themselves hoarse at the sight. The path dog-legged down to the road, and the Engles jogged down as the ground shook and the sound of hoofbeats resounded. As they emerged at the roadside Gudmund came from the southern end of town, the thegn throwing the pair a happy smile which mixed pride with relief. Even if Ubba’s force had been outnumbered, they all knew that several shiploads of huscarls would have made short work of an army composed mainly of a rag-tag collection of farmers, fishermen and shepherds if the Danes had chosen attack over ignominious retreat.
The standards were close now as the king approached, the gaudy banners, red, green and blue glimpsed as a flash of colour among the muted browns of the settlement as they flashed past. Suddenly, the tall figure of the king was before them and the trio bent the knee as Heardred curbed his mount and guided the great war horse across. A pair of boots appeared on the ground before him and Hemming felt strong hands grip his shoulders and haul him to his feet. ‘Thrush Hemming!’ the king exclaimed, as the warriors clustered about their king beamed happily. ‘You have brought us new enemies!’ He glanced back across his shoulder, and a ripple of laughter swept Heardred’s bodyguard as he added a comment with a smirk. ‘Just what we needed.’
A far smaller figure threw himself from the back of his horse, and Hemming blinked with surprise as the boy, magnificent in scale armour and boar helm, shot him a question. ‘Hemming, your lord is taken, yet you stand before me.’ Weohstan fixed him with an accusing stare. ‘Explain how that can be?’
King Heardred held out a hand to still his charge, before turning to Eadward and Gudmund. ‘On your feet, it’s unbecoming for men of worth to grovel in the dirt.’ The pair rose and Hemming watched as the warm smile on the king’s face fell away to be replaced by the fearful countenance of a king. ‘Gudmund, how long have these Danes been gone?’
The thegn pulled himself erect as he replied. ‘Three hours, lord.’
‘You let them go, despite the fact that they had attacked and taken a kinsman of mine?’
Gudmund cleared his throat before he replied, but the reply was steady when it came nonetheless. ‘With the situation in Swedeland and the arrival of our new guests from there, I thought it best to rid your kingdom of them as soon as possible, lord.’
Hemming watched with interest as the king raised his brow in surprise. After sweeping the trio with his gaze, Heardred turned back to the men of his hearth troop: ‘Ranulph!’
The big warrior raised his chin. ‘Yes, lord?’
‘Take two hundred riders and the men from Geatwic. Ensure that these Danes have left my lands.’
‘And if they haven’t, lord?’
‘Kill them.’
As wicked grins spread across the faces of the mounted men and they hauled at the reins and clattered away, Heardred indicated that the trio follow him up to the hall with a jerk of his head. The king strode up the path as they filed in his wake, the look on his face enough to wipe the smiles from any onlookers as they scrambled aside. Weohstan was a pace behind the king, and Hemming’s spirits sank a little lower each time that Eofer’s son shot him an accusing look over his shoulder. The little group reached the small paved compound, and Heardred pointed to the spearmen flanking the doorway as he approached and snapped out an order. ‘You two; clear the hall and then get back to your posts. Nobody is to enter, for any reason.’
The guards blanched and scurried inside as Heardred led them in. Gudmund’s own wolfhounds rose in greeting but quickly sensed the mood, slinking away as the king indicated that they all sit. As the thralls and kitchen hands were ushered out by the guards Heardred paced the floor, chewing his lip with impatience until the big doors thudded closed and the unfortunate trio awaited the storm which was so obviously about to break upon them.
The king turned back, the intensity of his gaze pinning them like a fox beneath a hound. ‘Gudmund,’ he spat. ‘Before we look for a rope and a stout bough, let me make sure that I understand what happened here today. You had the men who took my foster-brother within my grasp, but you decided to let them go.’
The mention of the possibility of a hanging had clearly shocked the thegn and the Engles shifted uncomfortably as Gudmund swallowed before replying with less steadiness than before. ‘Yes, lord, I did.’
‘Prince Hrothmund has told me of the circumstances of Eofer’s capture. It is his opinion, one which I share, there was nothing that the men who were there could possibly have done to save him.’ Heardred’s gaze swept from Weohstan to Hemming and Eadward, and the English pair felt a sense of relief that the young Dane had spoken in their support as the king turned his face back to Eofer’s son. ‘So, we are in agreement Weohstan, that your countrymen have not forsaken their honour?’ The boy’s lips tightened into a line, and he gave a curt nod as he was forced to accept his uncle’s judgement. ‘Good, that’s one problem solved then, but that doesn’t help you,’ he said, returning his gaze to his unfortunate thegn. ‘Did it not occur to you that I could have arranged for these men to be exchanged for Eofer?’
Gudmund straightened, and Hemming watched with admiration as the young Geat composed himself. Clearly confident that his decision had been the right one, the man had decided that if he was to fall, he would do so with dignity. ‘I felt that it was the best course of action to take to safeguard your kingdom, lord,’ he explained as Heardred raised his brow in surprise.
‘Oh, you did,’ the king gasped. ‘Perhaps you could explain a little more fully, so that we could all understand your reasoning?’
Gudmund was clearly warming to the task, and the air of confidence which he had displayed that morning faced by a Danish war band was returning to his voice as he saw that his king was willing to hear him out. ‘I reasoned that, although there is a very strong possibility that war with Daneland will come sooner than we would like, it was to our advantage to delay that clash for as long as possible. When I spoke to this Ubba silk beard and his men, it quickly became apparent that they had no inkling that their homeland had been attacked by the English. If they had known, they would not have been asking me if they could hire boats to take them home, they would have taken them and gone, killing the Englishmen here and any Geats who stood in their way.’
Heardred was clearly calming as his thegn continued with his explanation.
‘It would only have taken one word out of place, some fool to goad a Dane with this knowledge, for the s
ecret to be out. The whole population here knows about the fighting in Daneland,’ Gudmund said as he risked a smile. ‘The fishermen down by the sound are out every day, lord. They meet other ships, traders and the like, all the time. There’s not much that happens in The Cat Gate that we don’t get to hear about down here. By packing them off, back the way they had come as quickly as I could, I reasoned that I could help the English king in his war on our common foe by depriving the Danes of some of their finest warriors for another week or so before they discovered the truth.’ Gudmund looked apologetic as he continued. ‘We have yet to recover from the losses we incurred in Frisland last summer, lord, and what with the recent developments in Swedeland…’ His voice trailed away and Heardred flicked a questioning look at Hemming and Eadward. ‘You have been told?’
Gudmund interjected and risked a nervy smile. ‘I didn’t know how much to tell them, lord. We did have rather a lot to be getting on with.’
King Heardred exhaled and nodded as he began to understand the thegn’s line of thought. ‘You were right, you acted in the best interests of my kingdom.’ He pulled a weary smile as the anger began to drain away. ‘I will forego the lynching.’
As the tension lessened and they all began to relax, Heardred rubbed his face wearily before explaining Gudmund’s reference to Swedeland to the mystified Englishmen. ‘The Danish prince that you have so generously gifted me is not the first to reach my hall looking for protection, I have already extended that help to the Swedish princes Eanmund and Eadgils, the sons of King Ohthere. You are obviously unaware,’ he said looking at the Engles, ‘that King Ohthere of the Swedes has been assassinated by Danes, apparently acting on behalf of Ohthere’s brother Onela who has seized the kingship.
Hemming and Eadward exchanged a look of shock. ‘Why would the Danes kill their own king and the king of Swedes at the same time?’
‘The machinations of a woman,’ Heardred explained. ‘Yrse, the wife of Onela and therefore the new queen of Swedes is not only a Dane by birth but the mother of Hrothulf, Daneland’s shiny new king. Believe me,’ Heardred snorted, ‘I know her well. I spent the winter as a guest of the pair a few years ago when I was an exile. Nothing is beyond her.’ The young king looked downcast as he exchanged a look with Gudmund. ‘It seems that we are becoming ringed by powerful enemies just as our friends move away. I fear dark days await Geatish folk.’
Hemming shaded his eyes from the brilliance of the setting sun, as the little ship was rowed steadily towards them across a sea as smooth as milk. A swirl of gannets plummeted to spear the waters of the sound, rising with their catch in a silvered spout as the raucous calls of their flock filled the air.
It was good to see the little scegth again after so many months, despite the absence of his lord. He looked about as the emotion of the moment threatened to overwhelm him again, inhaling deeply as he fought back the tears. Despite the judgement of the others, it was his responsibility that they were lordless men; he should never have taken to the river before his lord. Eardwræcca, a lordless exile, to be wrecked. It was not without reason that men thought it the bitterest word in the English tongue.
‘So,’ Osbeorn said, ‘his cousin is his mother?’
‘No,’ Hemming sighed with a look of frustration, ‘this Queen Yrsa is King Hrothulf’s sister.’
‘So not his mother, then?’
‘Yes, she is, that’s the point. King Halga, Hrothulf's father, married her not knowing that she was his daughter.’
‘Because of the ravaging of the shepherdess when he was raiding in Saxland?’
‘Right. So when the Saxon queen told her the truth out of spite, Yrse left Halga and got herself married off to Onela the Swede, leaving behind her son…’ Hemming let the question hang in the air and raised a brow at his friend who was still clearly struggling with the complexities of royal bed hopping.
Osbeorn gave a hesitant reply, obviously still far from certain: ‘Hroth…ulf?’
Hemming’s face lit up and he stabbed out a finger. ‘Yes! So she sits brooding in Swedeland, biding her time, scheming and plotting until her son comes of age, and then, bang! Strikes back like an adder.’
Osbeorn beamed. ‘Like an adder.’
Hemming settled back with a sigh of relief, but his shoulders began to slump as he recognised the now familiar look of incomprehension cloud his friend’s features.
‘So, who was the shepherdess?’
The big duguth could sense Sæward’s amusement at his side and, desperately seeking an excuse to escape this explanation without end, he raised his head and looked down the ship. ‘Edwin and Bassa are at the ham again,’ he said with his best false frown. ‘It will all be gone soon if they don’t leave it alone.’ The remark had the desired effect, and Osbeorn was jumping the thwarts before he knew that he had moved. ‘Oi, you two; leave that alone and get back to your ropes.’
Hemming turned to the steersman and they exchanged a grin. Sæward was the first to speak, the happiness at the reunion with his hearth mates shining in his eyes. ‘The gods know, I have missed you boys. You have to say though,’ he added with a frown of his own, ‘none of these king-worthy families make it easy for normal folk to follow what’s going on. It’s all Hroth this and Hroth that, they all sound the same.’
Hemming snorted his agreement, thankful that he was finally free of the subject; he had enough on his mind as it was. Hauling himself to his feet he crossed the steering platform, gripping the wale as he stared out across the wind shredded waves. The shadows were lengthening as the sun dipped, and Hemming allowed his gaze to wander, out past the spear-like outline of the little Skua’s own mast to the Geat warship which was accompanying them south. It was a furlong off to bæcbord, its monster capped prow rising and falling as it breasted the swell. Eadward grinned and waved from his place at the stern, as the ship’s own steersman hauled the steering oar and guided her inshore. Soon they would part company, King Heardred’s hand-picked war band adding steel to the English scipthegn and his crew as they stormed ashore to recover the Hwælspere from Danish captivity. Hemming snorted as he pictured the faces of Ubba and his men when they finally reemerged, travel worn and empty handed from the forest path, and saw their ships burned, the ship guard slaughtered. They would know then, if they had not yet already realised the truth; they had been deceived. The flames of war had come to the land of the Scyldings. Daneland bestrode the sea lanes, both lock and key to the Beltic Sea and the rich trade route to Byzantium and beyond, growing rich on traders’ taxes and the tributes collected from lesser folk. Maybe the king’s life itself was in danger while they had been chasing shadows in Scania, the kingdom shredded, torn apart like smoke on the wind?
He idly fingered the unfamiliar brooch at his shoulder as he teased apart the weft and weave of his plan, such as it was. Circular like those of the Danes, the central hole and shallow engraving marked it out as distinctively Jutish in origin. The ploy was, he had to admit to himself, a desperate gamble, but these were desperate times.
Sæward was leaning outboard as he wrestled the paddle blade, peering around the billowing sail as the sandy cliffs of Daneland drew a line on the horizon. ‘Not long now,’ he said as he fixed Hemming with a look. ‘Going over the plan?’ He threw him a sympathetic smile and Hemming had to laugh, despite the seriousness of the situation. ‘So,’ Sæward continued, with a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘Let me see if I have misunderstood any part of this loki cunning scheme. I drop you and the boys on a remote beach. You then go and find horses and search Daneland,’ he said, raising a brow, ‘a country undergoing the torments of a rampaging ship army…our ship army…hoping to stumble upon Eofer. Once you do, you spring him from captivity and set off, evading the armed might of the Danish leding who are all running around like their arses are on fire because, well,’ he shrugged, ‘there is a ship army of Engles torching their farms in the South. That done, you head off to meet up with our lads…er...somewhere.’ As Hemming pulled a pained expression, Sæward gave
him a hearty clap on the shoulder. ‘Yeah,’ he nodded, ‘what could go wrong?’
13
The moon peeked from the clouds, bathing the clearing in its steely light. Eofer shifted, rolling his neck to make it appear to any onlookers that he was waking from sleep. At his side Swinna raised his chin to the sky, speaking softly as the cloud, its edges rimmed silver, moved back to extinguish the glow. ‘That should be it for a while,’ he breathed, ‘there is a big bank of cloud moving across from the West.’
Eofer tensed as the dog shifted in its sleep, the chain which held it grating as it stretched its legs and yet another squeak of wind escaped. Within moments the foul smelling air had wafted across to the pair and Eofer squeezed his eyes together, blenching as he waited for the fug to clear. He risked a murmured question to the man at his side, despite the danger of waking the dog. ‘Is that sharp enough yet? Some things deserve a grisly death.’
Swinna’s smile flashed as the last sliver of the moon was swallowed by the brume. Raising the shard he flicked the pad of his thumb over the wicked point with a wink and a smile of satisfaction.
Back within the welcome embrace of the shadows, Eofer began to work the paling gently back and forth, loosening the nail a little more with each and every tug. Within a few more twists the wide head of the pin stood proud of the surface, and the thegn worked his fingernails beneath it to wriggle it free. Sure that it was loose enough to remove in a moment, he pushed the nail back a touch to hold the plank in place for now.
A gentle nudge was all that was required for Swinna to shuffle up, his shoulder supporting the beam as Eofer hauled himself to his feet and walked across the compound. One of the patrolling Danes pulled up, lowering his spear, but Eofer ignored the young lad as he loosened his trews, pulled himself free and began to piss. Eofer caught the Dane’s eye and raised a brow as he splashed into the dust, and the boy pulled a face, looking away in embarrassment as he resumed his beat.
