by H A CULLEY
‘His eyes lit up at what he thought I was suggesting and I killed him with my eating knife as soon as we got there. I hid his body in the straw and left unseen. Fortunately most of the king’s entourage was camped outside the hall compound and so there was constant coming and going through the empty gate. I walked out of there with my master’s dry clothes and went to find him in the gesith’s camp. After that I behaved normally. When the king was discovered and the body servant couldn’t be found, suspicion fell on him. It wasn’t until we’d left that his body was found.
‘Back at Eoforwīc I resumed my duties serving the brat until King Æthelwold arrived and told the reeve that he was making a present of me to you. Of course, Godric kicked up a fuss and was given a clip round the ear for his pains. The morning I left I put a powerful emetic in his breakfast. Hopefully he’s still sitting on the latrine with crippling pains in his stomach; that is unless it’s killed him, of course.’
‘Well done, Bleddyn. It seems to me that you’re wasted as a servant. I’ll have to see if I can’t make more use of your obvious talents.’
The boy said nothing in reply but his handsome features lit up with a wolfish grin.
~~~
I hadn’t expected Oswine to accept Æthelwold’s coronation with good grace but he seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Then two years later, in the spring of 761 rumours started to circulate that he was mustering an army in the Eildon Hills to challenge the king.
It seemed a strange choice to me at first. The hills were south of the monastery at Melrose in Lothian, which could be counted on above all to support Æthelwold. From time immemorial the Lothian ealdormen had stuck together, back as far as when the area was known as Goddodin after the tribe of Britons who were the original inhabitants.
We soon found out that Oswine had been busy in Ireland ever since he’d failed to secure the throne. He’d landed in Cumbria with a small army of Irish mercenaries eager for plunder and had been backed by its ealdorman.
Then came disastrous news. Óengus had died and been succeeded by his brother Bridei as the third King of the Picts of that name. Óengus had ever been an honourable man, aside from taking advantage of that fool Oswulf, and had kept the peace throughout his long reign, even enlisting our support to conquer Strathclyde. Now his hot headed younger brother ruled all of Alba except for Dalriada, and we couldn’t expect help from that quarter.
As we assembled the fyrd and the ealdormen of Deira, Bernicia and Lothian marched to the rendezvous at Yeavering in the Cheviot Hills we heard that Bridei had joined Oswine. Now we had the armies of Pictland and Strathclyde to contend with in addition to that of Cumbria and the Irish mercenaries. I wondered how Cumbria and Strathclyde could be allies when they were in dispute over the coast of Galloway. Perhaps they had put aside their differences somehow? I needed to find out if that was indeed the case and, if so, why? It was a task for someone with both cunning and the ability to pass unnoticed. I knew of just the boy.
On instructions from Æthelwold, the ealdormen of Luncæstershire, Elmet and Eoforwīcshire had remained at home just in case Offa was tempted to take advantage of the situation. The remaining fourteen shires had managed to raise a force some three thousand strong, six hundred of whom were thegns or members of permanent warbands. Of these some two hundred were mounted. It was a sizeable army but we didn’t know how many men Oswine had.
When Bleddyn arrived I sent him off with a party of scouts under the command of Uurad and I waited impatiently for him to return.
‘It all went according to plan, lord,’ Uurad told Æthelwold and me as soon as he returned. ‘We chased the boy into the enemy encampment and then raced away as soon as they sent men to intercept us. It was a bit of a race but we managed to get away without any losses.’
‘How many men did they have?’ the king asked, more interested in Oswine’s strength than the fate of a servant.
‘We studied their camp for a while before the pretend chase and I counted a hundred and forty ponies and fifty horses, but that would have included some pack animals. The camp itself was divided into three sections, the largest one being that of the Picts and Strathclyde Britons. I would think there were something like two thousand of them. The Cumbrians were perhaps six or seven hundred strong and the section around Oswine’s tent contained about three hundred men.’
‘So it seems that we are evenly matched,’ Æthelwold mused. ‘I had hoped to have the advantage.’
‘You may still have, plus the element of surprise, if Bleddyn does what I asked him to.’
‘You put a lot of faith in an eleven year old boy, Seofon,’ he replied sceptically.
‘He gained you your throne, Cyning,’ I reminded him. ‘And he’s twelve now; he had a birthday last month.’
‘Eleven, twelve – he’s still a young boy. He may be able to slit a throat but getting to see the Ealdorman of Cumbria, let alone bribe him successfully, is a tall order.’
‘Well, if he fails all I’ve lost is a body servant to my sons.’
The boys would never forgive me, of course, I thought gloomily as I lay on the hard ground in my tent that night. The other problem was that I would never know if Bleddyn had managed to do what I’d asked until battle was joined.
~~~
I rode forward to examine the enemy position. Oswine had occupied the crest of a steep sided hill. In the small valley below it a stream ran through boggy ground. It was a good position and, to make matters worse for us, heavy rain was falling. This would make the hillside slippery and our archers would be of very limited use. Once bow strings got wet they stretched, even if treated with beeswax, and consequently lost power.
Æthelwold rode up to join me.
‘We’d lose too many men if we tried a frontal assault,’ he concluded gloomily.
‘Perhaps the other side of the hill might be an easier climb?’ I suggested. ‘If we line the army up here to distract them, I’ll go and have a look.’
He nodded and, taking six of my mounted warband with me, I rode through the hills and around the enemy position out of sight. I was conscious that Oswine might have scouts out and we went cautiously. There was no hurry; we weren’t going to attack that day and, hopefully, the rain would stop by tomorrow so that we could use our numerical advantage in terms of archers.
The going wasn’t easy and visibility in the heavy rain was poor but eventually we emerged onto a shallow saddle between two hills from where we could just make out the reverse slope of the hill which our foes occupied. A narrow river ran through the valley at the bottom of the hill and I could see their baggage train on the far bank. The slope itself was nearly as steep as it was on the other side, but a broad ridge linked their hilltop to the next one. If we could occupy the second hill, we could advance along the ridge and would only have a shallow ascent to cover during our attack. Admittedly this would be on a relatively narrow front but the topography would be the same for them.
We circled the hill out of sight so that I could examine the other side of the enemy’s hill but that too was steep sided. A plan began to form in my mind and we carried on to complete the circle and ride back to join the king.
That night we left a small party of boys and old men to tend the camp fires on top of our hill whilst the main body set off for a night march. This is not something that is easily achieved with a large body of men, especially if they need to move quietly. To reduce the risk of whole sections getting lost I took three groups of guides in turn and showed them the route that afternoon. When we set off we did so in groups of two hundred.
Thankfully we made it to the rendezvous having lost no more than a handful and without making any noise that might have alerted our foes. The rain had petered out during the previous evening and, although their clothing was still wet, at least the men could get some sleep before we attacked at dawn.
We were halfway across the ridge before the enemy realised what was happening. This was no terrain for horses to charge over – too r
estricted and too many boulders – and so Æthelwold led the attack on foot. I wasn’t with him. I went to attack and secure the enemy baggage train first and then waited for Oswine to try and escape.
I couldn’t see what was happening on top of the hill – the convex slope hid the battle from me – so I rode up to the top of the next hill. I could see that our men were pushing the enemy shield wall back whilst our archers sent volley after volley into their rear. More importantly a large group of the enemy were gathered at the back of the hill and were taking no part in the fighting. This had to be the Cumbrians. It looked as if Bleddyn’s mission had been successful.
Suddenly a rider broke away from the rear of the enemy formation and, accompanied by a few other horsemen, he rode up to the Cumbrians and what looked like a heated exchange broke out between the leaders of the two forces. One of them, either Oswine or one of his commanders I suspected, drew his sword but one of the Cumbrians standing beside their leader thrust his spear at the swordsman.
It was a poorly aimed blow and the swordsman deflected the spear with his shield. Unfortunately for him, the point ended up piercing the rump of his horse and the animal reared up in pain, depositing its rider on the ground.
The other riders tried to go to their leader’s aid but they were few and the Cumbrians were many. It was all over in a minute or two; the riders were all killed and their winded leader was hauled to his feet. As I watched he was forced to kneel and an axeman stepped forward to chop his head from his body. The head was fixed atop a spear and waved up and down. From where I watched I could make out faint cheering over the din of battle. I assumed, correctly as it turned out, that the head was that of Oswine.
Although only a few men owed fealty to Oswine personally, and many of them were now dead, he was the paymaster of the mercenaries and the ally of the Picts and Britons. Without him the only thing they were fighting for was their survival. It wasn’t long before the rout started and men fled for their lives. I watched carefully for the banner of Bridei, King of the Picts, and when I saw it amongst a group of riders, mostly on mountain ponies, heading north-west towards the crossing over the River Forth, I set off to intercept them.
I estimated that Bridei’s escort numbered no more than fifty, easily outnumbered by the hundred men I had with me. The problem was the terrain. Boulders and smaller rocks littered the ground, which the ponies were nimbler at negotiating, and we fell behind. However, once we were out of the hills and onto open pasture we began to gain on them. Bridei must have realised that we would catch him long before he could reach the bridge below Stirling and changed course, heading for a large area of woodland.
There was no road through the wood and so he would be forced to follow animal trails. I sent twenty men after him to keep up the pretence of pursuit whilst I headed around the trees, making for where I thought that the Picts would emerge.
I was a little out in my calculations and they appeared a little to the north of where I was waiting. However, we were only a few hundred yards apart now and ten minutes later we started to overhaul the back markers, spearing them and chopping them from their ponies as we went.
Suddenly the Picts turned to make a stand. They were outnumbered two to one but they put up a tough fight. Many of my men weren’t adept at fighting on horseback - they used them to travel quickly and then fought on foot – but I had trained some to charge and break a shield wall. Fighting against another mounted warrior was a different matter though. Fortunately the Picts were even more unused to mounted combat than we were.
My first opponent made a clumsy attempt to stab me with his spear and overbalanced when I moved my horse to the right to avoid it. He fell off to be trampled underfoot by those following. The next man was more careful. He held his spear across his body, aiming to knock me off my horse with the haft. I tried to bash it out of the way with my shield but it rode up and hit my helmet. For a moment I felt dizzy and lost concentration. Fortunately my galloping horse took me past my assailant and I had a moment to recover before the next man appeared in front of me. This time I threw my spear, not at him, but at his steed. It was only when the animal sank to its knees with my spear in its chest that I realised that it was a horse, not a pony. This Pict was a noble.
He leapt from his dying horse and, having dropped his spear, drew his sword. He deflected my own sword when I cut down at his head but I pulled on the reins so that my horse barged into him causing him to lose his balance. He sat down heavily and, by the time he’d regained his feet, I’d dismounted.
He’d also lost his shield so it should have been an unequal contest. By this time the rest of my men had galloped past in pursuit of the remaining Picts and the two of us were alone. He charged me and, making a succession of quick cuts and thrusts, he forced me back. If it hadn’t been for my shield I’ve have been killed, but the effort had tired him and his blows slowed.
Now it was my turn to press home the attack. I banged his sword aside with my shield and sword alternately, whilst making quick stabs at him when the opportunity presented itself. He got in one lucky blow to my shoulder and I felt the chainmail rings part. Thankfully the thick leather jerkin I wore under my byrnie prevented anything worse than a bad bruise.
I saw an opening and thrust the point of my sword at his left eye. He moved his head just in time but the blade knocked the ornate helmet from his head. Now I could see the face of the man I was fighting and realised with a shock that it was Bridei. I had only seen him once standing at the side of his brother Óengus, but his features and shock of red hair were unmistakeable.
With a snarl he leaped towards me, sword uplifted to strike down at my shoulder again. This time the leather wouldn’t stop the blow and he’d probably cut through and break the bone, or even give me a fatal wound.
It would take too long to get my shield across and my sword was out of position to block the cut in time so I did the only thing I could; I dropped to one knee so that his sword struck my back, where it harmlessly bounced off the chainmail. I drove my shoulder forwards and upwards, winding him, before dropping my sword and pulling out my seax. As he doubled over I thrust the point of the seax up behind his jaw through his mouth and into his brain. He was dead before he hit the dirt.
I was exhausted and, as the adrenalin drained from me, reaction set in and I experienced melancholia instead of the euphoria I had expected. By the time that my men returned, having killed the rest of the Picts, I had recovered sufficiently to join in their sense of triumph.
I returned with Bridei’s body draped over a pony to find Æthelwold; I couldn’t bring myself to order his head chopped off to join that of Oswine on the tip of a spear, the man had been a king after all. That night there was a feast, mainly consisting of roasted dead horse, to celebrate the victory so it was the next day before I could locate Bleddyn and find out what had happened.
‘No one challenged me when I walked into their camp,’ he told me as he sat inside my tent eating yet more horsemeat. ‘And I was lucky enough to get close to the big tent in the middle. I think it belonged to the King of the Picts; anyway two men were talking inside it and, with my ear pressed to the back of the tent I could hear what they were saying.
‘One man was protesting at some agreement the other had made with the Ealdorman of Cumbria. It appeared that he had agreed that he would formally cede the coastal strip in Galloway, which the Cumbrians had conquered some time ago, in return for their help to put Oswine on the throne.
‘The other man maintained that it belonged to Strathclyde. ‘And so it does.’ the other voice had said. ‘I agreed that Cumbria could keep it only to enlist their support. However, Oswine has promised that he will surrender all of Cumbria to me in return for my help once he is on the throne.’
‘That seemed to satisfy the other man and they went on to talk of other things. Of course, I realised that the Cumbrians had been betrayed, but I didn’t know at first how to get the information to their ealdorman.’
‘How did you manag
e that?’
‘I made my way over to the Cumbrians’ camp but there was a guard on the tent which I assumed was the ealdorman’s as it had a banner outside it. I waited until the middle of the night and then cut a slit in the back of the tent. There were two men asleep inside, one on the floor – presumably his body servant – and one on a palliasse.
‘The latter was snoring heavily and so I made my way over to the servant. I pricked his neck with the point of my dagger just enough to draw blood and I clamped my hand over his mouth. He woke and looked at me terrified. I told him to lie still as I gagged and bound him using his own clothes.’
He stopped for a moment as he chewed on a piece of particularly tough meat whilst I waited impatiently for him to continue.
‘I woke the ealdorman in the same way and told him what I’d overheard. I said I’d kill him if he moved or cried out, then removed my hand. He asked why he should believe a common little tyke like me, especially one who came like an assassin in the night, so I asked him why I’d risk my life to get the message to him. I explained that I worked for you and asked him why else the Picts and Britons of Strathclyde would support Oswine. What did they have to gain?’
‘Did that convince him?’
‘Not at first but the more I prodded him to explain why they were helping Oswine when they wanted the Galloway strip back, not ceded to Cumbria, the more I think he was convinced. Anyway, I’d done all that I could, so I made him promise not to sound the alarm and left by the same way I’d entered the tent.
‘I’d slipped into the encampment during the chaos of setting up, but now they had perimeter guards in place, so I went and slept under one of the baggage carts and waited for the battle to start so I could make my escape. The rest you know.’
~~~
There was one thing that continued to worry the Witan after the defeat and death of Oswine. Æthelwold Moll had been married years ago but his wife had died giving birth, along with the child. That meant that he had no heir. He was unwilling to marry again but eventually he gave in and became betrothed to Æthelfryth, daughter of the Ealdorman of Catterick, a young girl of fifteen. I could only imagine what she must have felt when she was told she was to marry a man of nearly fifty. I wondered if being queen was compensation enough. It might be to some girls, I supposed.
