by H A CULLEY
‘Yes, but I’d rather wait for reports from Ruaidhrí’s scouts. The estimates we have now aren’t very reliable. Some say no more than fifteen hundred and other over three thousand.’
‘Do we know how many men my brother has in Loidis?’
‘His gesith and warband together number about seventy and there are three hundred member of the fyrd.’
‘Not many to hold off two or three thousand.’
‘No, but there is only a palisade around the king’s hall and the warrior’s hall, so they will have a much smaller perimeter to defend.’
Ecgfrith hoped that the general population had managed to flee before the Mercians had arrived. Those that stayed would not have been treated gently by the invaders. Then he had a thought.
‘How many riders do Ruaidhrí and Catinus have between them?’
‘Perhaps a hundred and fifty.’
‘Send messengers to intercept them. I want them to go direct to Loidis and harass the Mercians as much as possible. They are to kill their forage parties and launch night attacks on their camp to keep them on edge. If we can disrupt the siege it means that Ælfwine has a better chance of holding out until I can get there.’
~~~
Ruaidhrí had been a boy of twelve when he’d first met Catinus and the ealdorman had been his mentor when he was growing up. He respected him, both as a military commander and as a man, so he had no compunction in asking him to command their combined force when they met up some thirty miles from Loidis, even though Ruaidhrí was Ecgfrith’s Master of Horse and had brought more horsemen.
They found a wooded hill with a nearby stream some five miles from Loidis to use as their base whilst the scouts reconnoitred the area.
‘Lord, there are some one and half thousand men camped around Loidis but there are many more inside the settlement so it is difficult to calculate their total numbers, but our estimate is about two and half thousand,’ the chief scout told the two nobles. ‘There are few horses so we don’t think that they can have more than fifty mounted riders, allowing for packhorses and the horses belonging to the Mercian king and his nobles.
‘Perhaps fifteen or sixteen hundred are members of the fyrd. The other thousand will be trained warriors.’
‘That’s a lot more warriors than Ecgfrith will have been able to muster quickly,’ Catinus muttered after the scout had left.
‘Yes, and they apparently use the fyrd to forage so we can’t even the odds much by killing the foragers.’
‘No, but if forage parties disappear it’ll affect the fyrd’s morale and they’ll all go hungry: whether warband or fyrd.’
Ælfwine stood on the walkway on top of the gate in the palisade that ran around his hall. He was wearing a byrnie that was slightly too large for his slim body and a borrowed helmet that required a lot of padding underneath it to keep it sitting firmly on his head. One of the armourers in Loidis had presented him with a short sword that he’d made for his own son and he carried a shield that was too big and heavy for a thirteen year old to carry for too long.
A gap of fifty yards separated the two halls and their surrounding palisade from the nearest huts. At the moment the only occupants of the space were the dead and wounded from the last assault the Mercians had made. A hundred of the garrison defending Ælfwine’s stronghold were archers and they had taken a deadly toll as the Mercians had crossed the open space carrying their hastily made ladders.
He could see movement between the nearest huts and he called out in his high treble voice ‘here they come again.’ The cry was repeated all along the walkway and the weary defenders scrambled to their feet.
This time the leading Mercians were archers, each with a man beside them with a shield to give them protection. Ælfwine’s archers started to pepper the running attackers with arrows but this time several of them were hit by the Mercian bowmen. A few moments later the first Mercians reached the fifteen foot high palisade and lifted their ladders into place.
A large man with a pitchfork grinned as the first Mercian appeared at the top of his ladder before thrusting it forward so that the prongs lodged in the topmost rung and he gave a mighty heave. The ladder toppled backwards taking the man at the top and four others climbing below him with it. They crashed into the men waiting their turn to climb and several screamed in agony with broken bones.
However, elsewhere the Mercians had got a foothold on the walkway and were engaged in fierce hand to hand fighting. A group of Mercians ran along the walkway to where Ælfwine was standing with several of his gesith, killing all who stood in their way. Several of his warriors pushed past the King of Deira to defend him and three of the Mercians fell into the compound below with wounds from the gesith’s spears.
Ælfwine got increasingly angry when he saw his gesith being cut down by the Mercians who, although taking casualties, were gaining the upper hand. One of the Mercians managed to dodge past the defenders and came face to face with Ælfwine. He blocked the man’s thrust with his shield and brought his sword round to strike the other’s shield. The next blow from the Mercian’s sword jarred his left arm and he had to struggle not to drop his guard. Despite the numbness, he forced his shield back into position and stepped back to give himself room to swing his sword.
With a cry of triumph the Mercian stepped forward but then stumbled as he tripped over the body of one of the dead. Ælfwine seized his opportunity and thrust his sword through the exposed neck of the Mercian before he could recover. As he pulled the blade out blood gushed over him. The young king didn’t let that distract him and he barged into his dying opponent with his shield, sending him off the walkway to crash onto the ground below.
Ælfwine turned to face his next opponent but the Mercians were retreating. He stood there for a moment, his chest heaving whilst he struggled to get his breath and then one of his surviving gesith grabbed his arm and pointed. A wedge of horsemen were cantering across the open space, scattering the attackers and cutting them down as they went. They completed one circuit around the palisade and then disappeared just as suddenly as they’d appeared.
They left behind them scores of dead and wounded Mercians for the loss, as far as Ælfwine could see, of three men and two horses. Someone who had kept a clear head shouted for the archers to shoot into their disorganised foes and several more Mercians died before they could retreat into the cover provided by the huts.
‘They lost two hundred and thirty men, Cyning,’ the garrison commander told Ælfwine later.
‘And how many did we lose?’
‘Twenty nine killed and forty too badly wounded to fight again for the foreseeable future.’
The loss of a quarter of the defenders was a serious blow, whereas the Mercians had probably only lost a tenth of their number. Such a high rate of attrition was unsustainable.
‘Did you see who our saviours were?’ Ælfwine asked.
‘I recognised Catinus’ banner of a wolf’s head.’
‘Probably just my brother’s horsemen then. Men on foot will take a lot longer to reach us.’
‘Don’t despair, Cyning. It must mean that King Ecgfrith is on his way.’
The commander smiled affectionately at his young king and put a hand on his shoulder.
‘You fought well today and you killed your first man in battle. It has boosted the men’s morale no end.’
‘Thank you. I suppose I should be pleased, but another attack like that will finish us off,’ he said gloomily.
There was nothing further to be said. Ælfwine was correct.
~~~
Osfrid was fuming at being left behind with the servants to guard the packhorses. Why had his father brought him to war if he was to be kept out of sight of the action? How would he learn anything from that? He was even angrier when Catinus had told Drefan to look after him. The boy was only ten, just a few months older than he was, and he was a servant.
He waited until all the warriors had ridden off and then re-mounted his little mare.
‘W
here are you going?’ Drefan asked as soon as he saw Osfrid preparing to ride after the men. ‘Your father said that you were to stay with me.’
‘Get lost, Drefan, I don’t take orders from servants.’
Drefan stared resentfully at Osfrid’s back as the young boy rode off through the trees following the path the horsemen had taken.
Osfrid stopped at the edge of the trees and carefully surveyed the ground between him and the buildings at the edge of the town. From where he sat he couldn’t see any movement, then he spotted some of the Northumbrian horsemen in gaps between the huts as they moved carefully through the streets.
Off to his left lay the Mercians’ camp, which appeared to be deserted apart from a few boys and unarmed servants. He rode just inside the trees until he was close to the nearest tents. Someone had left a fire burning, presumably to cook food on, and so he cantered forward and, jumping from his horse, he picked up a stick which was alight at one end. Before anyone could challenge him he rode back out of the camp.
Some of the tents were made from leather but most were thick cloth impregnated with fat and grease to make them waterproof. Back in the safety of the trees Osfrid used his seax to cut off a few strips of cloth from his oiled cloak and tied them to half a dozen of his arrows. Then he lit each in turn from the flame.
Drawing back his hunting bow as far as he could, he sent all six of his fire arrows into the upwind part of the camp. He waited until he saw flames flickering and smoke billowing upwards, to be whipped away by the wind, before he retraced his steps to his camp.
Ælfwine had stayed on the parapet despite being urged to get some rest whilst he could. He was the first to spot the smoke and then the flames as the wind spread the conflagration from one side of the enemy camp towards the centre. The Mercians had abandoned the town to go and fight the flames and Ælfwine took the opportunity to order two thirds of his men to get something to eat and drink and then sleep. They were all exhausted and he prayed that it would be some time before the enemy returned to the attack; time enough for the other third of his men to get some rest at any event.
As a boy being educated at Ripon he was treated like any other novice and so he had no personal body servant. However, one of the boys serving the members of his gesith brought him some bread, cheese and a flagon of ale.
‘You need to sleep Cyning,’ the boy told him firmly. ‘My master says that you will be no good to anyone if you’re exhausted.’
Ælfwine was about to cuff the boy for his impudence but instead he nodded and sat down with his back to the palisade to get a few minutes rest. It was four hours before he awoke to find it was now dark. One of his thegns was kneeling by him and gently shaking his shoulder.
‘I’m sorry to wake you Cyning, but two of the sentries reported movement near the east side of the palisade.’
‘Thank you, I’ll come.’
Five minutes later he joined the garrison commander.
‘What’s happening,’ he asked in a whisper.
‘We’re about the illuminate the area.’
A minutes later he gave an order and men threw earthenware jars full of oil and fat from the walkway to land several yards from the palisade. Seconds later several fire arrows plunged into the places where the pots had shattered and walls of fire leaped up. By the light of the flames the defenders could see that the Mercians had nearly reached the palisade with their scaling ladders.
Volley after volley of arrows rained down on the attackers and they fled back into the darkness, most of them dropping their ladders in their haste to escape. By the light of the dying flames Ælfwine could see that at least sixty men had been killed or badly wounded. A few tried to crawl away but they were sitting ducks for the archers. By the time that the flames died down none of the fallen were moving.
Catinus had been furious when he returned to find his son missing. He blamed Drefan and roundly cursed him until he calmed down and realised that he was being unfair. The boy had never seen Catinus so angry and he cowered expecting to be beaten, though that had never happened before. In the end all he received was a tongue lashing but that was bad enough.
When someone drew his attention to the smoke rising above the trees he remounted his horse and he and Ruaidhrí went to investigate. They met a grinning Osfrid on the way. Catinus was about to vent his fury on him when Ruaidhrí put his hand on his arm.
‘Is that your doing, Osfrid?’ he asked.
‘Yes, lord. I sent a few fire arrows into their camp and now the blaze is spreading nicely.’
Catinus bit his tongue. He was glad that Ruaidhrí had stopped him but he needed to make his son realise that he’d been reckless as well as disobedient; however, now was not the time. Then he realised that, without many of their tents, the Mercians would billet themselves in the huts in the town. Men sleeping in small groups would be vulnerable.
The following day was uneventful. The Mercians sent out patrols but Catinus’ men withdrew five miles, only to return in the late afternoon. That night the weather changed. The dry, sunny days had lasted for nearly two weeks, but now conditions changed with a vengeance. Clouds scudded across the sky as dusk fell and an hour or so later a violent thunder storm arrived from the west. The heavy rain soon turned the dusty ground into a quagmire and the night was lit up by forked lightening accompanied by the crash of thunder.
Ælfwine had returned to his post on top of the gates. He stood with the hood of his cloak pulled up to keep off the worst of the downpour whilst watching the open ground. No one thought that the Mercians would make a night attack again but Ælfwine thought it was possible. Hopefully his brother’s army was on its way by now. If so, Wulfhere would want to capture Loidis before it arrived.
When the next flash of lightening lit up the sky he thought he saw movement, not in the cleared ground between the huts and the hall, but at the edge of the town. He shrugged; it was probably a few Mercians seeking shelter from the storm.
The next morning dawned bright and clear. The only evidence of the previous night was the puddles of water that dotted the ground. However, the discovery of nineteen men with slit throats in the huts nearest the perimeter of the town further demoralised the Mercians. Ælfwine knew that something had happened to disturb them, but he didn’t know what.
He was feeling confident that he could hold out until his brother came to relieve Loidis when that confidence was dashed. Some five hundred more reinforcements arrived under the banner of the Middle Anglians. Just before dusk several hundred more arrived, this time bearing that of the East Saxons. They more than made up for the losses that Wulfhere had suffered and Ælfwine grew despondent.
~~~
Ecgfrith had advanced as far as Tadcaster when Catinus’ messenger arrived with news of the reinforcements. Instead of halting for the night he decided to push on. Loidis was only a dozen miles from Tadcaster; they could be there by midnight and camp nearby, ready to do battle the next day.
As his men settled down for the night Ecgfrith called a war council. It was held in the open as erecting tents had been pointless. What time was left before sunrise was better spent sleeping rather than erecting and dismantling the camp. Apart from Octa the Hereræswa, he was joined by five eorls, Catinus and Ruaidhrí, who had ridden with their men to meet the king.
‘We have just under three thousand men in total, whereas the Mercians have perhaps three and a half thousand now that they have been reinforced. However, we have another few hundred bottled up in the fortress. The Mercians are camped along the River Aire two hundred yards from the perimeter of the town. Catinus will explain their disposition in more detail.’
‘Thank you Cyning. Before we arrived the Mercians left their camp and baggage train virtually unguarded whilst they went into Loidis to try and breech the walls around the king’s hall. They changed tactics when my son burned half their tents down single handed.’
It was evident how proud Catinus was of Osfrid by the fact that he had singled him out for mention.
> ‘Now they always leave a strong guard on the camp. Furthermore, we attacked and wiped out three of their foraging parties. They are short of food and so they are forced to forage in much stronger numbers. Our estimate is that this reduces the numbers engaged in attacking the hall by perhaps five of six hundred.’
‘My plan is to capture their camp and take up a position between it and the town. I expect Wulfhere to withdraw his men and to try and recapture his camp. There isn’t room to deploy them properly if we take up our position in the space between their camp and the nearest huts. This will force him to attack us piecemeal. We will force them back into the streets of the town where a detachment of our warriors will be waiting for them. I also want some of our archers on the hut roofs to add to the chaos.’
‘What will the horsemen be doing, Cyning? They are not suited to fighting in enclosed spaces,’ one of the eorls asked.
‘A few scouts will be deployed to make sure that we are not surprised by either more reinforcements or the returning forage parties. The rest will give Wulfhere a little surprise.’
~~~
Ælfwine watched in dismay as the Mercians swarmed up their scaling ladders and managed to drive the defenders back from a section of the palisade. More and more Mercians climbed up to join their fellows and they inexorably drove his men back. A few of the attackers ran down the steps into the compound and started to slaughter the unarmed men, women and children who had taken refuge with him.
Then a horn rang out again and again. The assault on the fortress ceased in an instant and now the enemy was retreating back into the streets of the town. Those left stranded on the walkway around the palisade and in the compound tried to flee but the Northumbrians were in no mood to let them escape.
Ælfwine yelled for his men manning the palisade elsewhere to join in the fight against the Mercians on the walkway whilst he led twenty men down into the compound to deal with the enemy there. The first warrior he encountered was a boy only a couple of years older than he was. The boy had evidently only just completed his training as he made the thrust with his spear in the manner taught to all new warriors.
