THE POWER AND THE GLORY: Kings of Northumbria Book 4

by H A CULLEY

  ‘Hmmm. How many horsemen do we have at the moment?’

  ‘About thirty plus your gesith, sixty in all. Catinus’ men returned to Bebbanburg with him.’

  ‘In retrospect it was mistake to let him go. Ah well; we’ll have to make do with what we’ve got. I want the horsemen to make for Elles’ Mere as quickly as they can and attack the men who are cutting down trees to make the ram and ladders. I don’t want to lose any of them needlessly, so they are to pick their targets carefully. My aim is to delay things until we can get there with the army. Now, who’s the best man to put in charge?’

  ‘I would have said Redwald but you surely don’t intend to leave yourself without a bodyguard?’

  Oswiu nodded. ‘Yes, this is more important. The leader of my gesith is resourceful and clever. You’d better send for him so we can brief him. Don’t worry about my protection, I’ll keep a few of my gesith with me. They and Ansgar will suffice.’

  ‘Are you sure? There are a lot of Mercians with our army. They were our enemies not so long ago; are you sure they might not take the opportunity to assassinate you.’

  ‘They may have been our foes in the past but they are leaderless. Besides they will want revenge on Cadafael for deserting them at the Winwaed.’

  ‘Penda and Peada may be dead and Ethelred a prisoner, but don’t forget Wulfhere is still at large.’

  ‘He’s taken refuge with Eorcenberht of Kent, who’s an ally. I don’t think I need worry about him.’

  ‘I think you’re mistaken. Eorcenberht is as slippery as an eel. I’ve heard a rumour that he’s betrothed his daughter Ermenilda to Wulfhere.’

  ‘A rumour? From where? I thought I could count on his support.’

  ‘James the Deacon. He heard it from the archbishop.’

  ‘A bit more than a rumour then. He should know.’

  Ceadda nodded and Oswiu sighed.

  ‘Well, I can’t worry about that now. We need to concentrate on removing the Welsh threat.’

  ~~~

  Catinus had fallen in love. He’d lost his virginity to a village girl when he was barely thirteen, before Oswiu had plucked him and his brother from obscurity as shepherd boys to be his guides though the black peat bogs of the High Peak. Since then he’d enjoyed sex with a succession of women, latterly with Sunngifu, the sister of his body servant, Leofric, but he’d not thought about settling down. Now he was in his late twenties, an age when many men had already been married for years and had sired several children.

  However, he wasn’t consciously seeking a wife at the time. He was happy enough as it was. There were plenty of willing girls around the fortress who were eager to share the bed of the handsome new custos. The fact that he had an olive-skinned complexion added to his allure compared to the pale Angles and Saxons.

  He had seen the girl who was to change his life when he went to visit the Thegn of Bebbanburg. He was lord of the vill that shared a name with the fortress and his villeins and slaves farmed the land to the west and south of it. Consequently they sold their excess produce to the garrison and both the thegn and his ceorls had grown prosperous over the years.

  The thegn, an elderly man called Gamanulf, had two sons. The elder helped him to manage the vill and would succeed him in due course; the younger was a member of Oswiu’s gesith. He also had a daughter called Leoflaed who had come as something as a surprise to her parents as she put in an appearance some ten years after their younger son. At the time that Catinus first saw her she was fourteen. She was lissom and moved with a grace that excited him sexually. He couldn’t help but wonder what she looked like under her clothes. In contrast to his slightly swarthy appearance and black hair, she was blonde with a peaches and cream complexion. Her face was not exactly pretty - except for her pert, upturned and rather small nose - instead it had character.

  Gamanulf knew that he should be thinking about her betrothal – indeed many fathers would have started to do so before this - but ever since his wife had died three years ago Leoflaed had looked after him and managed his hall. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, despite knowing that he was being unfair to her. Secretly he hoped that she would stay with him until he died. Of course, by then it might well be too late to find her a worthy husband. She wasn’t an heiress and, although she was very pretty, men who were in a position to choose wanted a nubile young girl to bed, not a grown woman. Her options later on in life would be to marry a ceorl who wanted to improve his status or become a nun.

  Catinus had first seen Leoflaed when she brought in some bread and mead when he, Gamanulf and his elder son were discussing hunting and fishing rights. Normally a slave would have served the refreshments but she wanted to see this man who the other girls kept giggling over. Catinus couldn’t take his eyes off her and she felt a strange lurch in her belly when she demurely cast a quick glance his way. She could tell that he was interested in her and she realised with a start that the feeling was mutual.

  She hurried out of the hall and leant against the wall breathing heavily. She knew that her father wanted her to stay with him but she was beginning to feel stifled. Life was slipping away and her resentment was growing. She told herself that Catinus’ interest was a fleeting fancy and that he wouldn’t want to marry her, but from that moment on she allowed herself to hope.

  She was therefore encouraged when Catinus came back two days later on the pretext of wanting to clarify a few points from their earlier discussion. This time when she entered he asked to be introduced. With a frown Gamanulf did so and she sank to her knees, glancing up at Catinus with a smile.

  ‘How old are you child?’ he asked her directly.

  This worried Gamanulf even more, and it annoyed him. Such a question should have been directed at him, not directly to his daughter.

  ‘Fourteen, my lord.’

  ‘Your daughter is very pretty, Gamanulf. She must take after her late mother,’ he said with a grin.

  That annoyed the old man even more.

  ‘Go back to your duties, Leoflaed,’ he told her gruffly.

  ‘Yes father.’

  But she gave Catinus a lingering glance over her shoulder as she left the hall.

  ‘Is she betrothed?’

  The new Custos of Bebbanburg was not a man to beat about the bush.

  ‘Um, er, no. I need her here. My wife is dead and she looks after me; I’m not looking for a husband for her,’ the thegn told him bluntly.

  His elder son, a man of Catinus’ age who was married with three children of his own, shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He tried hard not to upset his father but he’d told him some time ago that it was time that he found a husband for Leoflaed. His wife was impatient to move out of the cramped hut in which they lived and take over the running of the hall; but the old thegn knew that, if he allowed them to move in, his son and his wife would take charge and he’d become a doddering old grandfather sitting by the fire waiting to die. He was anxious to avoid that at all costs.

  A week later Catinus received a visit from the elder son. He gazed around him in awe as he entered, impressed by the hall at Bebbanburg. His father’s hall was no more than an overgrown hut. Where Catinus lived was imposing by comparison. Not only was it much bigger and taller, but its roof was supported by large, straight tree trunks all along its length. These were set some distance in from the outer walls so that they created two separate areas either side of the main hall. Part of these side areas had been partitioned off to provide separate sleeping quarters, Catinus’ being the largest. In Gamanulf’s hall everyone slept together. The only privacy for the thegn was provided by a tattered curtain around his corner of the communal space.

  He was also used to some rain coming in through the hole in the roof above the central hearth. Here there were two hearths and above them, instead of a simple hole, there were twin hatches, hinged at the apex of the roof, which could be closed by ropes when there was no fire and which, when opened to the horizontal, kept most of the rain out whilst still allowing the
smoke to escape. This hall also had windows at intervals along its length with shutters which let in the light whenever the weather was fine, and kept the rain and wind out when it wasn’t.

  Catinus greeted his visitor courteously but loudly to attract his attention and he stopped gawping at his surroundings. After the usual greetings he got down to business with no further preamble.

  ‘My father will never let Leoflaed marry whilst he lives. He’s frightened about what will happen to him if my wife moves into the hall to replace my sister. He’s right to worry too. She’s a bit of a shrew and she’ll make his life hell, as she does mine.’

  ‘Sounds to me as if it’ll be in all our interests if you replaced your wife with someone more biddable and pleasant. I make no secret of the fact that I want to get to know Leoflaed better, but I can’t do that very easily if Gamanulf opposes the match.’

  ‘I’ve tried to talk to my wife about becoming a nun but she attacked me like a screaming banshee as soon as I suggested it. I can’t think of any other way of getting rid of her.’

  ‘Have you applied to Bishop Finan to divorce her on the grounds of adultery?’

  ‘But she hasn’t committed adultery.’

  ‘No, but you could.’

  ‘She’d kill me!’

  ‘Then I can only suggest you go back to your wife and stand up to her. Are you a man or a frightened little boy? Oswiu won’t let you become thegn after your father if you don’t show a bit more backbone than this.’

  The man sighed. ‘You don’t know her.’

  ‘Then perhaps I should become acquainted. Bring her here tomorrow afternoon.’

  Gamanulf’s son appeared shortly after the midday meal accompanied by a truculent looking woman. They waited, impatiently on her part, whilst Catinus dealt with a dispute between the blacksmith and the chief huntsman over an unpaid bill. As the two left, one grumbling and the other smiling broadly, the custos greeted the couple with a welcoming smile.

  Two servants brought in a bench for the couple to sit on and Leofric served them bread and ale. He went to offer the refreshments to Catinus but he declined.

  ‘Thank you for coming. I think we need to talk privately.’

  He waved the others in the hall away and they withdrew out of earshot; all except the commander of the garrison, a man called Eadstan, who remained standing by his side.

  ‘Now, as you know, I intend to ask Thegn Gamanulf for Leoflaed’s hand. However, I understand that he is loath to lose her services as the mistress of his hall. Normally he would ask you two to move in and your wife would take over Leoflaed’s duties. For some reason Gamanulf isn’t prepared to allow that to happen.’

  Confronted by his unblinking regard the woman glared back at him for a minute; then her gaze faltered and she lowered her eyes to the floor.

  ‘Why do you think that is?’ he asked. The man looked panic stricken so he added, ‘I’m asking your wife.’

  ‘You have no right to ask me these questions,’ she retorted, glaring at him once more.

  ‘Perhaps not, legally speaking, but you are obstructing my desire to marry your husband’s sister. That makes it my business. Now I’m a warrior and warriors tend to see things in simple terms.’

  He paused and, still keeping his eyes fixed on the woman, he asked the man beside him a question.

  ‘Eadstan, what would you advise me to do in these circumstances?’

  ‘Well, I could make this shrew disappear one dark night, I suppose.’

  ‘You mean kill her and quietly dispose of the body? Yes, that’s one solution I suppose.’

  Both the man and his wife were now staring at him in horror.

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind if I can’t find another solution, thank you Eadstan. Very helpful. On the other hand there are less drastic solutions to our little problem. If you became a nun it would automatically release your husband from his marriage vows or, if he committed adultery it would be grounds for divorce.’

  He had fixed his eyes on the woman whilst he was speaking and she swallowed hard, having seemingly lost her belligerent attitude; indeed she was now looking a little fearful.

  ‘Which would you prefer?’ he asked with an insincere smile.

  The woman seemed unable to talk, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. Catinus sighed and then winked at the husband - who was still looking worried - when his wife wasn’t looking.

  ‘Come now; it’s a simple choice. Divorce, in which case you would be a free woman and your dowry would be returned to you, or become a nun. Of course, there is also the other option Eadstan mentioned.’

  ‘Free woman! He’s spent my dowry and I’d be left destitute!’

  Some of the fire had returned to her eyes.

  ‘You might be able to find a new husband, perhaps.’

  She gave him a withering look. Everyone knew her reputation; men would try and kill a maddened boar with their bare hands rather than marry her.

  ‘Very well, would you like to speak to Bishop Finan to see if he can find a monastery to accept you, perhaps the new one at Whitby?’

  She pursed her lips and was about to say something, but evidently changed her mind and merely nodded dumbly. She knew when she was beaten.

  ‘I’m sorry. I need to hear you say it.’

  ‘Yes, damn you to Hell. I’ll become a nun.’

  Catinus laughed. ‘I rather think that your husband is the one who has been in Hell for the past few years. Go and see the reeve. He’ll make the necessary travel arrangements.’

  When she left the man looked at him with a mixture of gratitude and awe.

  ‘Would you really have had her killed?’

  ‘If necessary, yes. Now, down to more practical matters. You’ll need a good slave to look after your children and to manage the thegn’s hall. Do you have someone in mind?’

  ‘There’s an old woman who’s the children’s nurse, but she has no experience of managing a hall.’

  ‘Good. I’ve a slave, a young girl, who’s been trained to look after my hall here. Her name is Sunngifu. When Leoflaed marries me she’ll want to look after my household herself. In any case, for reasons I won’t go into, it might be better if Sunngifu wasn’t here when she arrives. I’ll give her to you as part of Leoflaed’s dowry.’

  ~~~

  Cadafael was getting nervous. Elles’ Mere should have fallen quickly and he and his allies from Powys should have been well away from there by now. Instead the wretched place had resisted his assaults and now his men were being picked off in the woods when they went in search of timber for the siege ladders and the battering ram. Initially he’d suspected that Cadwalladr had followed him into Powys but the two men who’d been killed attacking one of his forage parties yesterday had been dressed like Angles or Saxons.

  To make matters worse he’d had an argument with his fellow king, Manwgan, who was getting impatient to move on and find more profitable pickings. Cadafael knew deep down that he was right, but he was an obstinate man and he took their failure to take this place personally. He’d just decided to launch an assault at dawn on the morrow and to withdraw if that failed when several of his chieftains arrived, clearly excited about something.

  ‘Oswiu’s army is less than five miles away,’ one of them burst out, omitting the usually form of greeting when coming into his king’s presence.

  ‘What? Why didn’t our scouts find them long before this?’

  ‘Because they’re frightened to go too far from the camp. Too many have disappeared,’ another chieftain told him bluntly.

  Cadafael glared at him and was about to utter an angry retort, but he stopped himself just in time. Recriminations would have to wait; the immediate problem was Oswiu.

  ‘Do we have any idea how many men he has?’

  Something between two and three thousand, they think.’

  ‘They think? Is that the best they can do? How many trained warriors and how many men of the fyrd?’

  ‘About half and half, or so they say.’


  Cadafael snorted impatiently whilst his fellow king, Manwgan, who had just joined him, looked nervous.

  ‘Perhaps we should retreat into the mountains?’ Manwgan suggested.

  ‘We have over three thousand warriors between us. Do you want to scuttle away like a timorous mouse or do you want to remove this so called Bretwalda of England? With Oswiu dead we can take back the land our ancestors lost to the Anglo-Saxons.’

  Manwgan drew himself up and glared at Cadafael.

  ‘My ancestors were kings of Powys when yours were poor shepherds,’ he reminded Cadafael. Take back what you just said or you can fight the Northumbrians and the Mercians on your own.’

  Cadafael bit his lip. He had a poor opinion of Manwgan, both as a king and as a warrior, but he needed his men; and he was in his territory.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said after a short silence. ‘Of course we are in this together and whatever we decide will be a joint decision. Where do you suggest that we fight Oswiu?’

  ‘The hill fort at Maserfield, the place that men are beginning to call Oswald’s Tree. Let’s make a martyr of Oswiu there as I did his brother.’

  Cadafael smiled inwardly. Manwgan was embroidering the truth somewhat. It was Penda who had defeated Oswald there fourteen years previously; the men of Powys had merely made up the numbers.

  ‘Yes, that would be fitting. Tell the men we are moving back to Maserfield,’ he told his chieftains.

  Manwgan nodded triumphantly. By getting Cadafael to accept his plan he felt that the battle was already won. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

  CHAPTER TWO – THE BATTLE SHIRKER

  656 AD

  Oswiu grunted in satisfaction when he heard that the Welsh had withdrawn to the hill fort near where his brother Oswald had been killed. There would be a poignancy in defeating Cadafael and Manwgan there. Now that they were committed and awaited his attack, he could afford to delay whilst the rest of his army assembled.