by H A CULLEY
He wished that he’d brought another chair for Lethlobar but his presence was unexpected and space was at a premium on the small pontos.
‘My king was saddened to hear of the sudden death of his friend King Guret. How did it come about?’ Catinus asked once refreshments had been served.
‘Who knows? The gods decide to strike a man down and there is nothing anyone can do about it.’
‘Gods? You are not a Christian then?’
‘The White Christ is no true god. I worship the gods of my ancestors and respect the druids, like any good Briton should.’ He glared at Catinus before continuing in Brythonic. ‘You are said to be a Briton, like me, but you have betrayed your people and your gods.’
‘There are many more Britons who believe in God and His Son Jesus Christ than there are pagans like you,’ he retorted angrily.
Mermin’s face burned with fanatical zeal.
‘My uncle, Eugein, followed the true faith. Guret betrayed his father and our people so he had to die. Now I’m king I’ll continue the work of Eugein and cleanse Strathclyde of scum like you.’
So saying, he jumped up from his chair, drawing his seax as he did so. He thrust it upwards intending it to enter Catinus’ chest below his rib cage and tear upwards into this heart. The latter was wearing a leather belt around his waist to which was attached his own seax. Otherwise he appeared to be unarmed. However, he was wearing a short chainmail byrnie under his tunic and the blade slid upwards damaging the expensive tunic beyond repair but leaving Catinus unharmed.
The blunt tip of the seax snagged in the material of the cloak and, before Mermin could withdraw it and try to cut his throat instead, Catinus struck the would-be assassin’s arm aside and punched him hard on the nose.
Everyone else standing in the tent was taken completely by surprise when Mermin attacked Catinus; all except Leofric. The boy had helped his master dress in the confines of the small cabin under the aft deck of the pontos. Catinus had told him that he didn’t trust Mermin and so the boy was half expecting the attack. When it came he pulled a small knife from the sheath at his waist and, choosing his moment carefully, he threw it with unerring accuracy. It struck the King of Strathclyde in the neck and blood spurted out of his carotid artery, splashing Catinus and those standing nearby. A coppery smell quickly pervaded the air in the close confines of the tent.
The king sunk to the floor as his life ebbed away. The stunned silence in the tent continued for a second before it was replaced by uproar. Swords were drawn and a carnage seemed inevitable when a commanding voice yelled ‘halt’ in Brythonic. Mermin’s followers paused uncertainly, warily watching the Northumbrians and the Irish until Catinus drew enough breath into his lungs to cry ‘hold’ in English and then in Gaelic.
Warily the two sides stood, swords drawn, watching each other until a large man stepped forward and kicked Mermin’s dead body. ‘Usurper,’ he said angrily and then spat on the corpse.
‘I’m Elfin, this piece of shit’s cousin. He poisoned my half-brother, Guret, and his men seized Dùn Breatainn. Before we knew it he’d declared himself king. We were too disorganised to oppose him but he wouldn’t have held the throne for long, even if you hadn’t come along. Nevertheless, I’m grateful.’
Behind him Mermin’s small escort had been seized and disarmed by the other nobles of Strathclyde who’d accompanied their late king.
‘These men will be tried as accomplices for the crime of regicide and will doubtless hang. However, we have a problem. Your servant is also guilty of regicide.’
‘But he was saving my life!’
‘Even so. You are a noble and you had a right to defend your life against Mermin’s unprovoked attack. The boy is a servant and must die for what he did.’
CHAPTER SIX – THE PLAGUE OF JUSTINIAN
658/9 AD
Catinus was dumbstruck for a moment, but then his anger grew.
‘Elfin, he’s my servant, not a native of Strathclyde. He was defending me, as was his duty. You have no right to try him for killing your cousin. If you accuse him of a crime, I will try him for it and I will make judgement, though I think you know what my verdict is likely to be.’
‘Be very careful, ealdorman. I am likely to be the next king now that Mermin is dead. You antagonise me at your peril.’
‘No, it’s you who need to tread carefully, Elfin. I came here with instructions to ascertain whether the new king will support the status quo. If not, I am to warn him that he risks war.’
He knew that he was treading on dangerous ground. His task was to sound out Mermin, and now presumably Elfin. Oswiu had mentioned applying pressure if Catinus failed to secure the new king’s recognition of Oswiu as his overlord, but that was for him to do, not his emissary.
Elfin looked grim for a moment, and then he relaxed.
‘You’ve got balls, Catinus, I’ll say that for you. I’m sure you’re clever enough to know that I need to establish my own position and unite Strathclyde behind me before I go looking for any trouble. Very well, I’ll allow you to deal with your servant as you see fit. Only those nobles who Mermin has already rewarded are likely to condemn me for letting his killer go. As to acknowledging Oswiu as Bretwalda, I’m content to do that provided he doesn’t try to interfere with my freedom to rule as I wish.’
‘I’m sure that will be acceptable. He has neither the time nor the inclination to get involved in the internal policies of the kingdoms of Caledonia. His only desire is to ensure that there is peace in the north.’
‘Good, now if you’ll excuse me I have to deal with a small problem. The fortress is held by Mermin’s men and I don’t suppose they will submit to me without a fight. The place is unassailable and well stocked with provisions.’
‘Won’t they surrender now that he is dead?’
‘No, Mermin has a brother and they may well transfer their allegiance to him in the hope that he will come to their relief.’
‘Would it be helpful if I and my men supported your attack?’
‘Of course. How many men do you have?’
‘It depends on whether Lethlobar will also help; I have twenty warriors and they’re well trained.’
‘Yes, I’ll support you,’ the latter replied with a nod, ‘but I’ll not throw my men’s lives away foolishly. We need a good plan of attack.’
Catinus thought for a moment. ‘What do the garrison do with their rubbish?’
~~~
Oswiu returned to Eoforwīc content that, for the moment at least, he had re-established peace on his southern border. He had never imagined that he would be able to keep Mercia subdued for ever. He just hoped that Wulfhere would prove to be more trustworthy that his father and elder brother had been.
Then his heart sank. Eoforwīc meant Eanflæd. She had stayed at Loidis for a while after he set out to confront Wulfhere but the last messenger he’d received from the clerks who dealt with the administration of the kingdom had told him that the queen had now returned. Her treatment of him ever since he had given Ælfflaed to the Church to be brought up as a nun had hurt him deeply. As the town came in sight he made a decision. He hoped that it might heal the rift between them but, even if it didn’t, it was something that he’d wanted to do for some time.
As soon as he arrived his wife started to pack to return to Loidis. When he heard this, Oswiu took a deep breath and went to her chamber.
‘I hear you are leaving again, my dear. That’s a shame; I was about to invite you to come with me to visit my cousin Hild at Whitby. You would, of course, also be able to see Ælfflaed.’
Eanflæd stared at him. Her immediate reaction had been to tell him that she wouldn’t go anywhere with him. However, she would dearly love to see her daughter again. She would be four now; no longer a baby but a small child. Her resolve weakened. The slight softening of her attitude towards Oswiu had been helped by the time she had spent in the company of Abbot Wilfrid at Loidis, where he was a frequent visitor, as he had urged her to become reconciled wit
h her husband.
Of course, the abbot’s motivation was to ingratiate himself with the king. He had already wheedled his way into a position of influence with Alchfrith of Deira and now the queen was rapidly coming under his spell. If he became the confidante of Oswiu, then perhaps he might persuade him to make him Bishop of Eoforwīc. At the moment the spiritual leader of all of Northumbria was Finan, who Wilfrid despised. Wilfrid had been educated at Cantwareburg, in Rome and in Frankia and he fervently believed that the Celtic Church was an anathema. He was determined to replace it with the Roman Church, at least in Northumbria.
Eanflæd thought of all that Wilfrid had said to her. He had convinced her that hating her husband for dedicating their child to the Church was wrong. It had been an act of piety and her reaction had been the work of Satan. She had difficulty in accepting this but gradually she had come to accept what he said was true and she had been selfish.
When she saw the piteous look on Oswiu’s face, her heart melted. He was such a strong man and yet here he was looking weak and vulnerable. She would never forget what he’d done but she decided that she had to try to forgive him. She nodded in acquiescence.
‘I would like that, husband. Thank you.’
Repairing the rift between them would take time, but they had taken the first steps down that road.
~~~
Offa lay in his coffin before the altar in the church at Melrose. His death had been unexpected but not suspicious. During the midday meal, such as it was, he had clutched at his heart and collapsed. Within a few minutes he’d stopped breathing.
His prior, Eata, was the obvious choice as his replacement. In recent months Offa had handed more and more of the administration of the monastery over to him and spent his days in quiet meditation. However, although the election of the abbot was the prerogative of the monks, it was prudent to obtain the approval of the bishop and the king before Eata could be sure of his appointment.
The messenger returned from Lindisfarne with Finan’s agreement fairly quickly. That of the king took longer. The monk sent to him went to Eoforwīc first, only to be told that the king and queen had gone to Whitby. It was therefore over a month before he returned to Whitby but he was not alone. He was accompanied by Cuthbert.
‘Welcome, Cuthbert. I’d didn’t expect to see you again, unless it was in the company of the king.’
‘Greeting Father Abbot. Your messenger carries a letter from Oswiu but I know the contents. He approves your appointment and commends my unworthy self to you as a supplicant who wishes to return to monastic life.’
‘You, unworthy? False modesty doesn’t become you, Cuthbert. I welcome you back as a monk most wholeheartedly. Are you sure that you wish to enter Melrose? For someone of your abilities and high birth wouldn’t Lindisfarne suit you better?’
‘I have no desire to use either my status or connections for personal advantage. I have had enough of this world and wish only to prepare for the next.’
‘I see. That’s a pity. I am looking for a guest-master and you would be ideally suited to the task.’
‘Are the duties onerous? I wouldn’t have thought that you would have to host too many high-born visitors.’
‘You would be surprised. Many who are travelling from the south of Northumbria to Goddodin or to one of the kingdoms in Caledonia come this way. Melrose doesn’t attract many high born novices and so my monks are in awe of their betters. Consequently they hesitate to insist that they follow our rules whilst they are here. You would have no such problem.’
‘What do these visitors do that upsets you, Father Abbot?’
‘Drunkenness and debauchery. Some have brought whores with them to entertain them at night and there have been fights between men in their cups, even two deaths.’
‘And this is commonplace?’
‘Well, no. But far too often for me to accept it.’
‘I wasn’t seeking an appointment as an officer of the monastery, but neither will I stand by and witness that sort of behaviour. If I can prevent it, then I accept.’
His first test came a week later when a thegn from near Dùn Èideann arrived with his two sons, the new wife of one of his sons, five of their friends and four servants. Night had fallen and the gates had been closed when the porter came to find him to tell him of the party’s arrival. He added that the thegn was none too pleased when he was told he’d have to wait whilst the guest-master was fetched.
‘Welcome to Melrose.’
Cuthbert smiled at the party as they rode into the muddy area in front of the guest hut. The monk in charge of the stables and two boys came running up to take the horses as soon as the servants had unloaded what they would need for the night. The thegn didn’t reply to Cuthbert’s greeting but stalked up to him and prodded him in the chest.
‘What do you mean by it, eh? We’re tired, hungry and in no mood to have to wait for some snivelling monk to decide to open the gates.’
‘Don’t prod me with your finger, thegn, if you know what’s good for you. You are the abbot’s guests and you’ll behave appropriately or find somewhere else to spend the night.’
‘Why, you impudent oaf! Do you know who I am?’
‘If I remember correctly, your name is Iestyn and you hold a small vill between Dùn Barra and Dùn Èideann.’
The man took a step back as his two sons came to join him.
‘How do you know that?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Because you are one of my father’s vassals. My name is Cuthbert, Eorl Kenric’s eldest son. You came to Dùn Barra to settle a claim in the eorl’s court when I was about ten. You lost and you took it badly. No doubt that’s why you stuck in my mind. You were arrogant then and you haven’t changed.’
‘Cuthbert? The eorl’s son? But I thought you were in the king’s gesith?’
‘I was; now I’m here as the guest-master. I’m afraid that your son’s wife and her slave will have to sleep in a separate hut. I’ll show them the way. This hut is yours for tonight; there’s no other travellers staying. As to food, I’m afraid we have eaten but I’ll get someone to bring you bread, cheese and water.’
‘I’m not being parted from my wife!’ the elder son suddenly spat out. ‘We were only married two days ago.’
‘Of course you may enjoy your marital rights, but not in the confines of this monastery. Do you wish to leave again?’
‘Drop it, boy. You’ve the rest of your life to hump your pretty little wife.’
‘But father…’
‘But nothing! Do as you’re told. Thank you Brother Cuthbert. Be sure to remember me to your father when you next see him.’
‘I will. I’ll bid you good-night and show the lady over to her hut.’
He had a feeling that the horny young bridegroom would try and follow him to his wife’s hut to visit her during the night, so he took a circuitous route in the hope that the young man would have difficulty in finding it. At least he’d done his best to maintain the proprieties.
The stupid young man didn’t have the sense to return to the guest hut before dawn and emerged from the women’s hut just as the monks were making their way towards the church for Prime, the first service of the day. Even worse, his bride followed her husband out of the hut to give him a lingering kiss. The passing monks muttered angrily amongst themselves and one of them went over to remonstrate with the man.
He didn’t get very far before the young man punched him hard in the face and he fell over backwards with a broken and bloody nose. Cuthbert strode over to him and told the young man to stay where he was before sending for the infirmarian to deal with the injured monk. Then he grabbed the thegn’s son and marched him over to the guest hut. He tried to break away but Cuthbert twisted his arm so far up his back that he howled in agony and his whole body was forced upwards. He had to walk on the balls of his feet for a few yards before the irate guest-master relented and let him walk normally.
Meanwhile the man’s wife screamed at Cuthbert to release her husban
d but an angry crowd of monks surrounded her and prevented her from following them until Eata appeared to find out what the commotion was about.
‘You may return and join the rest of your party, girl, but you will behave in a demure and appropriate manner until you leave these precincts. Someone please tell Brother Cuthbert that I would like to see him as soon as he is free. The rest of you should make your way into church where Matins is about to commence.’
The occupants of the guest hut were awake and preparing to walk over to join the monks to break their fast after the short service. The guest-master soon disabused them of that idea.
‘I’m sorry that your son couldn’t keep his cock in his trousers last night, Iestyn. To make matters worse he kissed his wife in a lewd manner in front of the monks and nearly caused a riot. When one of them remonstrated with him he struck the monk, breaking his nose. I would be grateful if you’d leave immediately. You will not be welcome here again.’
‘I apologise on my son’s behalf, brother. I hope that you won’t feel the need to report this?’
‘I don’t run to my father with every bit of tittle-tattle, if that’s what you’re worried about. I cannot say, however, what line Father Abbot will take. His hospitality has been abused and one of the monks he is responsible for has been assaulted.’
‘Perhaps if my son made confession and did penance for his sin?’
‘I suggest you don’t delay your departure any longer. We endeavour to forgive those who trespass against us but not all of us are as successful as we might be. It would be better if you weren’t here when Matins ends.’
At that moment the wife appeared and sulkily mounted her horse. Cuthbert watched the dejected party depart but he wasn’t convinced that the thegn’s apparent contriteness was genuine. He thanked the monk who came to tell him of the abbot’s summons and followed him back to the church.
