by H A CULLEY
Thinking of Colman made him annoyed for another reason. It was stupid to locate the bishop of such an enormous part of England on a remote island in the far north-east. The bishop should be located at Eoforwīc, where the king was normally based. He knew that he would make a far better bishop than Colman too. The man was an ignoramus, theologically speaking, who had spent all his life in Celtic monasteries. He didn’t even speak English very well and, although he knew Latin, he had never learned Greek.
By comparison, Wilfrid had studied at Cantwareburg, at prestigious abbeys in Frankia and in Rome. There were few scholars who were his equal; even Deusdedit, the Archbishop of Cantwareburg was a nonentity by comparison. He was the first native-born Saxon holder of the archbishopric and that was about his only claim to fame. The Roman Church had lost ground during his time and Wilfrid despised him in consequence.
‘Now is your opportunity, Cyning, whilst your father is away in Caledonia,’ he told Alchfrith. ‘He is old, older than all his eorls except for two. Most kings had the grace to die on the battlefield before reaching their fifties, but he cannot have long to live now.’
‘Then I can wait until he dies,’ Alchfrith replied stubbornly.
‘And let Ecgfrith steal your throne?’
‘He’s just a boy.’
‘He’s nearly sixteen and he’ll be old enough to rule if Oswiu lives a couple more years.’
‘I thought you just said that he was on the point of death?’
‘No, I said that he can’t have much longer to live, given the fact that he’s now in his fifties. Perhaps he might even be killed in Dalriada, who knows. But he might survive until Ecgfrith is old enough to rule.’
‘Why him, even if my father does last another few years. I’m older and already King of Deira.’
‘Sub-king; there’s a big difference. You mother was from Rheged whereas Ecgfrith’s mother is the sister of Edwin, the first King of Northumbria, and is from the Royal house of Deira. It is, of course, for the Witan to decide in due course, but Ecgfrith has the better claim. You need to act before he comes of age.’
‘I know what you’re saying, but I can afford to leave it for a year or so. If my father dies naturally whilst Ecgfrith is too young to succeed I will be the obvious choice.’
‘Perhaps, but time may not be on your side after all.’
‘Why? What do you mean?’
‘There is a rumour going around that you are plotting against King Oswiu. I’ve no idea how these things start, but it does mean that you’ll have to act quickly before it reaches his ears.’
‘I don’t suppose you started it did you?’
‘Of course not! I’m not a scandalmonger. Like you, I’d have liked a little more time to plan properly.’
Alchfrith knew that the abbot was lying but he couldn’t prove it and, in any case, it didn’t change the situation. After a few minutes thought he made up his mind what to do.
‘I’m going to ride north, to this place Dùn Breatainn, and throw myself on my father’s mercy. I’ll say that I heard the rumours and came to reassure him that there wasn’t a grain of truth in them.’
Wilfrid swore softly under his breath. It wasn’t what he wanted at all, but he acknowledged that it’s exactly what he would have done in the same circumstances. He forced himself to smile.
‘Good idea. That’ll put him off the scent and give us more time to plan.’
Alchfrith smiled back but, like Wilfrid, his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
After Wilfrid had left him, he called Rægenhere to come out of the alcove where he’d been hiding. The son of the disgraced former Eorl of Hexham was now twenty one. He had been sent to Lindisfarne when he was eleven and had stayed on there as a monk. Now he was Alchfrith’s chaplain and confidante.
‘You heard?’
‘Every word, Cyning.’
‘Well? What do you make of it?’
‘My brother is ambitious and that makes him dangerous. I know you like him but I remember him from when I was a boy. Believe me, he’s not your friend, however much he makes out he is. Obviously Wilfrid started the rumour that you want your father’s throne. However, he is right about one thing. You need to go and profess your innocence to King Oswiu before he decides to act against you.’
~~~
Catinus had been accompanied from Kinross by his mounted warriors and so they had joined his friend Alweo for the river crossing. Although it hadn’t rained for two days it was still fast flowing and quite deep. The River Leven had nothing to do with Loch Leven near Kinross, where he’d just come from. It was a stretch of water six miles long that connected Loch Lomond to the Clyde Estuary.
‘I’ve done this before so I’ll cross first,’ Alweo told him. ‘The current is quite strong so it’ll take you downstream by a couple of hundred yards. There is a small sandy beach just before the river bends sharply to the left. The current will take you close to it and your horse will be able to regain its footing quite easily. You’d better pass that on to your men.’
Catinus nodded and, after giving the fast flowing river a doubtful look, went off to brief his warband. In the end it was easier than it looked. Only one horse and its rider was swept past the beach but, when the river turned back to the right they managed to get out of the water. Unfortunately they emerged on the wrong bank. Once rested, they tried again and made it out successfully on the second attempt.
‘According to my reckoning it’s about two hours until dawn. I suggest you post a couple of sentries and let your men get some sleep.’
Alweo had been worried about men getting lost in the pitch black but Catinus had suggested that the men grab the tail of the horse in front and lead their own horses. It had worked and, now that the moon made an occasional appearance from behind the dark clouds, he could make out the hill with the fort on its summit looming above them about a mile away.
Their task sounded simple. To capture Domnall. If they managed to kill a few of the routed Dalriadans, so much the better, but they would eventually run into the Picts on their way home so killing them wasn’t important. However, identifying Domnall might not be easy, especially if he fled on foot.
Meanwhile Oswiu and Elfin were watching the small fleet ferry the bulk of their combined army over the Leven by the light of the new moon. Oswiu wasn’t sure if they could be seen from the old hill fort in this light but, if so, Domnall did nothing to oppose them.
About half way up the hill Oswiu realised that he wasn’t as young as used to be. He was in the second wave surrounded by his gesith with Elfin to his right. Ahead of him those members of both king’s warbands who possessed byrnies pressed on towards the summit and its palisade.
‘Strange that they are sending so few arrows our way,’ commented Redwald, panting nearly as hard as his king.
‘Yes, perhaps they only have a few.’
The two men said nothing further, keeping their breath for the rest of the climb. As they neared the top they saw that there were only a handful of men manning the palisade, then suddenly they disappeared. Oswiu realised that something was badly wrong just before Domnall launched his attack.
The King of Dalriada had kept the great majority of his army hidden in the wood at the bottom of the hill. He’d waited until the first two waves were committed to the assault on the hill fort before leading his men out of the trees to attack the rest of Elfin’s men, who had only just started the ascent as the third wave.
They were the least experienced and worst equipped of the Strathclyde army and they stood no chance against the Dalriadans’ overwhelming numbers. Within a few minutes they had broken and fled.
Oswiu realised almost straight away that they had walked into a trap; it took Elfin a little longer. Of course, their best warriors were now at the rear and the least experienced and poorest armed of those who were left were forced to face the victorious men of Dalriada. Oswiu started to push his way to the front with his gesith but that just led to chaos as his bewildered men tried to understand wh
at was happening. Elfin ordered his men to turn about but then seemed content to remain at what was now the rear. Whilst this was going on, Domnall re-formed his men ready to renew their assault on the disorganised army facing them.
Catinus and Alweo watched as a few dozen men ran down the hill from the hill fort.
‘Are they just a few cowards or do you think something is going on,’ Alweo asked a puzzled Catinus.
‘I’m not sure. Perhaps we should intercept them and take a few prisoners to question?’
Alweo nodded his agreement and the mass of horsemen moved into a long line to cut off the fleeing enemy. The ends of the line moved into a canter so that the formation looked like the horns of a bull. The men from the hill fort realised that they were trapped and most threw down their weapons and stood sullenly waiting to be taken captive. A few put up a fight but they were quickly skewered on the horsemen’s spears.
Catinus surveyed the ranks of the thirty or so captives and picked on the youngest, a boy of perhaps fourteen. Two of his men went and dragged him before Catinus and Alweo, both of whom had dismounted and now stood grimly waiting to question the boy.
‘Now you can survive this little encounter intact or I can cut off your ears, hands and your feet in turn and leave you a helpless cripple, that is if you don’t die from blood loss; the choice is yours.’
Catinus took the lead as he spoke Brythonic. The yellow liquid flowing down the lad’s bare legs showed how terrified he was. He tried to look behind him to his comrades - either for re-assurance or guidance – but Alweo punched him on the jaw.
‘Look at us when we’re talking to you.’
Alweo didn’t speak his language but the message was clear.
‘Now, how many men are left in the fort?’
The boys stubbornly clamped his lips shut until Alweo drew his seax and lifted the front of the boy’s filthy tunic with the point, exposing his manhood. He sobbed and his shoulders drooped.
‘I’ll tell you what you want to know,’ he almost yelled at them.
Someone called out to him telling him to button his lip if he knew what was good for him. Immediately one of Alweo’s men stepped forward and thrust his spear into the stomach of the man who’d called out. He dropped to the ground screaming in agony and there was no more interference from the captives. The man continued to wail and that unnerved the boy even more.
‘There’s no-one left.’
‘Where’s the rest of Domnall’s army then?’
The young Dalriadan clamped his mouth shut but when Alweo cut the skin at the top of his left ear and started to saw, he changed his mind.
‘They’re hiding in a wood ready to attack your fucking army from the rear. It’s too late, you’ll be wiped out,’ the boy shouted triumphantly.
Just at that moment Catinus heard the faint sounds of battle coming from the far side of the hill. He and Alweo had to act and act fast.
‘Let them go! Mount up,’ he bellowed at his surprised men.
A minute later they were heading around the side of the hill at a gallop. The sight that greeted their eyes as they came around the hill was not an encouraging one. Oswiu and Elfin had the benefit of height but their army was in chaos and many were trying to get away from the scene of carnage. With the weaker warriors either dead or fled, the more experienced and armoured men were now able to strike at the Dalriadans. Few of these had any armour, or even leather jerkins, to protect them and the advance of Domnall’s men was now slowing down. However, they were able to envelope the flanks of the Northumbrians and the men of Strathclyde due to their superior numbers.
Seeing the danger Catinus yelled across at Alweo: ‘if you charge them from the flank I’ll take my men and wheel around and strike them from the rear.’
Alweo nodded back and gave the signal to form into a wedge. His eighty men charged into the Dalriadan flank, scattering men as they went. Alweo thrust his spear into the throat of a large Scot wielding a double-handed axe, sending the giant hurtling back into his comrades. He drew his sword just as a man, braver than the rest, ran forward and tried to impale him on his sword. Alweo batted it away with his own sword and then he was past him and faced by another man trying to get out of his way. He swung his sword and cut into the man’s shoulder breaking his clavicle and biting into his scapula. He man fell away, screaming in agony and Alweo had difficulty in holding onto his sword as he tried to pull it free.
He managed to cut off the point of a spear aimed at his throat just in time. He felt a bang on his shield as someone embedded an axe in it and then he was free. With a start he realised that the men now facing him were Northumbrians. He’d fought his way through the entire Dalriadan warband. Gradually his men joined him as the enemy retreated to regroup.
Meanwhile Catinus and his gesith lined up facing the youths and old men in the rear ranks of the enemy. He thought about using the wedge formation but his men weren’t trained to fight on horseback. They normally used their mounts to ride from one place to another quickly and dismounted to fight; not today though. He needed the shock of a cavalry charge to break the enemy quickly.
His men started the advance at a walk so that it was easy to keep in line, a hundred yards from the enemy they started to trot and then canter. Now the cohesion of the line was lost but it didn’t matter. If they weren’t used to fighting on horseback, unlike Alweo’s men, those facing them had never faced a mounted charge either. As soon as the ragged line changed to the gallop the ranks facing them began to break up as the young and the old panicked and started to force their way through the ranks of those behind them.
The rear third of Domnall’s army were now in disorder. They were also vaguely conscious of the havoc that Alweo’s trained cavalry had brought to their comrades in the first two divisions. Suddenly the whole lot broke and ran in all directions, throwing away their spears and shields as they went. Catinus chased after them, cutting them down as he rode amongst the routed enemy. His men did likewise and they effectively destroyed the rear division without losing a single man.
He frantically signalled to his gesith to halt as they broke clear and were faced by the second division. However, they too had been badly disrupted by Alweo’s charge and they stood there, bewildered.
Most of the battlefield was spread out beneath Oswiu as he stood halfway up the steep hillside. Immediately below him stood the first division of Domnall’s army surrounding his and Elfin’s remaining men. Beyond them Alweo’s men faced two ways on the flatter ground, trapped between the first and second divisions of the Dalriadans. However, the latter was much smaller than it had been. At the bottom of the hill Catinus and his twenty men sat on their horses facing the rear ranks of the second division.
Suddenly Catinus gave the order to charge and his men kicked their horses into a canter and then a gallop as they struck the remnants of the second division of Dalriadans. It wasn’t something that they had trained for but they seemed to perform the charge well enough before releasing their spears as they turned and trotted back. Once more they charged but this time they hacked down at the enemy with their swords. A few seconds later Alweo also charged into the enemy second division, trapping them between the two mounted forces.
It was the decisive moment of the battle and Oswiu waved his sword forward, looking at Elfin, who waved his own sword back. The Northumbrians and the men of Strathclyde charged down the hill into the first division, ignoring the men who were trying to encircle them.
Domnall realised that he had gambled and lost and he fought with his gesith to extricate himself from the first division, cutting down his own men in the process. Once he was clear, he rode at the gallop heading north. When some of his men spotted the group of horsemen disappearing around the hill with the banner of Dalriada still flying proudly over their heads, they lost heart and the news of their king’s abandonment of them spread quickly through the ranks.
The fight went out of them and fifteen minutes later it was all over.
‘Alweo, yo
u had better keep up the pressure on Domnall. He should run into the Picts at the Isthmus of Arrochar and then you’ll have him trapped.’
‘Yes, Cyning.’
Without another word he led his somewhat depleted force of horsemen off to the north, following Domnall’s clear trail.
‘Well done Catinus. It seems I owe you and Alweo for saving me from an ignominious defeat.’
There didn’t seem much that Catinus could say in reply to that. He could hardly agree and to demur would be false modesty. So he merely smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment.
‘What happens now, Cyning?’
‘We lick our wounds, bury our dead and wait for tidings of Domnall’s death.’
However, it was not to be. Six days later Alweo returned with disappointing news.
‘Cyning,’ the weary man reported. ‘The Picts failed to stop him at Arrochar. It seems that he has escaped to Dùn Add.’
‘You mean that treacherous cur, Garnait, let him pass?’ he asked incredulously.
‘So it would seem. The rumour is that Domnall bribed him.’
‘Very well. It seems that I shall have to deal with Garnait before I turn my attention to Dalriada. Thank you Alweo.’
The ealdorman left his tent with a backwards glance. He studied the brooding king for a moment, wondering what he would do now, were he in Oswiu’s shoes which, thankfully, he wasn’t.
~~~
Alweo reined his horse in on the col between two hills from where he had a perfect view along Glen Fallon to the north-east and down to Glen Fyne to the west. So far his scouts had found no trace of the Picts and he was beginning to wonder if he was on a fool’s errand. Oswiu seemed certain that Garnait was hiding from him somewhere in these mountains but, if so, he’d seen no sign of even a moderate sized force having passed this way.
There had been the detritus of his camp on the isthmus near Arrochar and he’d followed the trail as far as Alt Arnan near the north end of Loch Lomond but then the trail had disappeared. There were signs of a few horses and men in the boggy area near Alt Arnan and then nothing. It was if they had disappeared into thin air. Evidently they had taken to the many streams and burns in the area where their passing left no trace. His men were now following the most obvious of these as they must have left the water courses at some point, but thus far they had found nothing.
