War Lord

by Bernard Cornwell

  ‘You think they are coming?’ she asked, not needing to say who they were.

  ‘Yes.’

  She frowned in thought. ‘Did you spit?’ she asked abruptly.

  ‘Spit?’

  She touched my forehead where, in the chapel before I left for Burgham, she had smeared a patch of oil. ‘Did you spit?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good! And I was right,’ she said, ‘the danger comes from the south.’

  ‘You’re always right,’ I said lightly.

  ‘Ouff! But will we be safe? If they come?’

  ‘If we work hard, yes.’ I expected a siege, and if my bishop son had spoken the truth then Ealdred was already close to Egil’s steading and would doubtless come south to Bebbanburg, though I doubted he had enough men to seal the fortress by land, let alone the ships to close off the harbour. I reckoned I would have to drive him away and then prepare the fortress for an ordeal which meant summoning my followers who held land from me, telling them to bring men, mail coats, weapons, and food. The harvest was still weeks away, but cheese, ham and fish would keep us alive. Herrings had to be smoked and meat salted. Forage had to be stored for the horses, shields had to be bound and weapons forged. In the spring I had purchased a whole cargo of Frisian ash staves and they must be cut to length and the smithy must hammer out new spear-blades. I had already sent scouts north and west to look for approaching horsemen, and to warn the closest settlements to be ready to flee to Bebbanburg for safety.

  I expected Ealdred’s men in the morning, though when I climbed to the fortress’s highest point beside the great hall I saw no glow in the western or northern sky to betray men camping. I thought back to Domnall’s visit and how he had said I had no allies and that, I thought, was true. I had friends all across Britain, but friendship is fragile when the ambition of kings was fanning the fires of war, and if Æthelstan’s fears were right then it would be a more terrible war than any in Britain’s history.

  The next morning, at daybreak, I sent Gerbruht and forty men north in Spearhafoc to discover what they could of Egil’s fate. There was a warm west wind that would drive the boat fast and bring it back just as fast unless the afternoon brought a summer calm. I sent a smaller ship to Lindisfarena where the mad bishop Ieremias presided over his followers. That ship brought back salt from the pans on the island’s shore and promises from Ieremias that food would follow. He wanted silver, of course. Ieremias might have been mad and he was certainly no bishop, but he shared with most real bishops a love of shining coin. We needed his salt for the newly slaughtered meat, and the fortress’s outer courtyard ran with blood as cattle that should have lived till early winter were pole-axed and butchered.

  And maybe I imagined the danger. Had my bishop son lied to me? He had subtly encouraged me to flee Burgham to forestall Ealdred’s arrival, but what if Ealdred was not coming? Had Oswald merely wanted to persuade Æthelstan that I was truly allied with Constantine? My precipitate flight must look like betrayal to Æthelstan, and if Ealdred did not come then I could expect a much larger army led by Æthelstan himself, an army large enough to starve us into submission. A son’s revenge, I thought, and touched the hammer at my breast and then, because a man can never be too careful with fate, I spat.

  Then Ealdred came.

  Oswi warned me of their approach. He had been posted well north of Bebbanburg, watching the road that led from Egil’s land. Ealdred, I reckoned, would have followed Egil and now came south to Bebbanburg to fulfil Æthelstan’s instructions. Even before Oswi reached the fortress I cupped my hands and shouted at my men. ‘Get ready!’

  I had planned a reception for Ealdred, and my men, eager to play their parts, ran to prepare themselves. They looked forward to the deception, unaware that I could be bringing the whole wrath of Saxon Britain down on Bebbanburg. Most concealed themselves in their living quarters, some filed up to the great hall to wait in the side chambers, but all donned mail, wore helmets, and carried weapons. Only a half dozen would be visible to Ealdred on the ramparts and those six had been ordered to look dishevelled and bored. Once Oswi had galloped across the sandy neck and was safe in the lower courtyard, the Skull Gate was closed and barred. ‘Must be close to two hundred of them, lord,’ he told me when he joined me on the rampart above the inner gate.

  ‘Scarlet cloaks?’

  ‘A good number of scarlet cloaks,’ he said, ‘maybe fifty?’

  So Ealdred, who called himself Lord of Bebbanburg, had brought some of the king’s own bodyguard, Æthelstan’s finest troops. I smiled. ‘Well done,’ I told Oswi, then cupped my hands and called down to Berg, Egil’s younger brother, who was one of my most loyal and capable men. ‘You know what to do?’

  He just grinned and waved as answer. I had given him five men who waited with him behind the Skull Gate. All were in mail, but I had deliberately given them old coats that had broken rings and were fouled with rust. Behind them the courtyard was thick with blood, buzzing with flies, and littered with slaughtered and half butchered beasts. I walked to the landward ramparts where I was hidden by deep shadow in a watch house where sentries could shelter on dirty nights and freezing days. Benedetta was with me, as was Alaina, who was over-excited. ‘Are you going to kill him?’

  ‘Not today.’

  ‘Can I?’

  ‘No.’ I was going to say more, but just then the first scarlet-cloaked horsemen appeared. They came in a long line on tired horses and stopped in the village to stare at Bebbanburg across the harbour. What did they see? A massive whale-shaped rock rising from the coast and crowned by great timbers and approached only by the sandy neck to the south. They stood watching for some time as the stragglers caught up, and this, I guessed, was Ealdred’s first view of the fortress and he was learning just how formidable it was. He would see my flag of the wolf’s head flying at Bebbanburg’s highest point and he could see too that the ramparts were thinly manned. I instinctively had stepped back into the deeper shadows, though there was no risk that he could see me at that distance. ‘That’s them, father?’ My son had joined us.

  ‘That’s them. You’ll wait in the hall?’

  ‘I know what to do.’

  ‘Let’s not kill them if we can help it.’

  ‘Ouff,’ Alaina said, disappointed.

  ‘There are priests with them,’ Benedetta said, ‘two priests.’

  ‘There are always priests,’ I said sourly, ‘if you want to steal something it’s good to have your god with you.’

  ‘They’re coming,’ my son said as the far horsemen spurred their mounts again and headed south towards the rough track that approached the Skull Gate.

  I clapped my son on the shoulder. ‘Enjoy yourself.’

  ‘You too, father.’

  ‘Go with him,’ I told Benedetta.

  Alaina followed her and for a moment I was tempted to call her back. She was too obviously enjoying herself, then I thought Ealdred probably deserved whatever scorn Alaina chose to give him. I turned back to the Skull Gate where Finan and a dozen men had just disappeared into the guard chamber. We were ready.

  I moved to the ramparts by the inner gate, but stayed hidden. I was dressed in my war-glory; my brightest mail, the helmet with the silver wolf snarling at the crown, my arm rings glittering, high boots polished, a golden hammer at my breast, a silver-plated sword belt from which Serpent-Breath hung, and all half-covered with a lavish bearskin cloak I had taken from a dead enemy. A sentry on the fighting platform above the inner gate grinned at me and I put a finger to my lips in warning. ‘Not a word, lord,’ he said. The stench of blood was thick and would stay pungent till the rain cleaned the outer courtyard.

  I heard voices calling from the Skull Gate’s far side. Someone thumped on the gate itself, presumably with a spear butt. Berg slowly climbed to the rampart. I saw him yawn prodigiously before calling down, though again I could not hear what words were spoken, but nor did I need to. Ealdred was demanding entrance, explaining he had a letter from King Æthelstan
addressed to my son, and Berg was insisting that only six horsemen could pass the gate. ‘If young Lord Uhtred gives permission,’ I had told him to say, ‘then you’re all welcome, but till then? Only six.’

  The altercation lasted some minutes. Berg told me later that Ealdred had crowded his horsemen by the gate, plainly intending to force an entrance if the gates were opened to permit a mere six men. ‘I told him to back the bastards way off, lord.’

  ‘Did he?’

  ‘Once he’d called me a damned pagan Norseman, lord, yes.’

  The gates were finally pushed open, six men entered and the gates were dragged shut and the heavy bar dropped into place again. I saw a look of horror cross Ealdred’s handsome face as his stallion picked a nervous way through the half-dismembered corpses and the puddles of congealed blood. He glanced scornfully at the dishevelled men. Finan, who had only been in place to close the gates forcefully if he was needed, stayed hidden. More words were exchanged, but again I could not hear them, though it was plain Ealdred was angry. He had expected my son to meet him in the outer courtyard, but instead Berg, following my careful orders, was inviting him and his companions to the great hall. Ealdred finally yielded and dismounted. One of his companions was a priest who plucked up the skirts of his robe as he tried to find a clean path through the blood and flies. I turned and hurried back along the ramparts, climbing to the rear of the great hall where I let myself in to the private chambers. Finan joined me there a few minutes later. ‘Are they in the hall yet?’

  ‘Just arrived.’

  I was again hidden, this time by a curtain that hung over the door into the hall itself, where my son was flanked by his wife Ælswyth and by Benedetta. A dozen of my men, all as dishevelled as the warriors who had greeted Ealdred, lounged at the hall’s edges. Finan and I watched through the small gaps between the curtain and the door jamb.

  Berg escorted Ealdred into the hall, along with the four warriors and the priest who was a young man I did not recognise. My son, seated at the high table on the dais, waved a casual welcome and Berg, unable to suppress a grin, announced the visitor. ‘He’s called Ealdred, lord.’

  Ealdred bridled at that. ‘I am Lord Ealdred!’ he insisted haughtily.

  ‘And I am Uhtred, son of Uhtred,’ my son said, ‘and surely it is customary, Ealdred, to leave swords at the entrance of the hall, is it not?’

  ‘My business,’ Ealdred said, striding forward, ‘is urgent.’

  ‘So urgent that manners are left at the hall door instead of weapons?’

  ‘I bring a letter from King Æthelstan,’ Ealdred said stiffly, stopping some paces short of the dais.

  ‘Ah, so you’re a messenger!’

  Ealdred managed to suppress a look of fury, but fearing an outburst, the young priest hurried to intervene. ‘I can read you the letter, lord,’ the priest offered to my son.

  ‘I’ll let you explain the longer words,’ my son said, pouring himself ale, ‘and though I realise you believe all Northumbrians are unlettered barbarians I think I can struggle through it without your help.’ He gestured to Alaina who was standing behind Ealdred, her legs apart and head back in plain imitation of his arrogant stance. ‘Bring it to me, Alaina, will you?’

  Ealdred hesitated when Alaina approached him, but she said nothing, just held out her small hand and finally, seeing no other choice, he took the letter from his pouch and gave it to the child. ‘It is customary, Lord Uhtred,’ he said sharply, ‘to offer guests refreshment, is it not?’

  ‘It’s certainly our custom,’ my son said, ‘but only to guests who leave their swords at the hall door. Thank you, my darling.’ He took the letter from Alaina who returned to her post behind Ealdred. ‘Let me read it, Ealdred,’ my son said. He drew a candle closer and examined the seal. ‘That’s certainly King Æthelstan’s seal, is it not?’ He put the question to his wife, who peered at the wax stamp.

  ‘It certainly looks like it.’

  ‘You know the Lady Ælswyth, Ealdred?’ my son asked. ‘Sister of the late Ealdorman Æthelhelm?’

  Ealdred was plainly getting more furious by the minute, but struggled to keep his voice level. ‘I know Lord Æthelhelm was my king’s enemy.’

  ‘For a messenger,’ my son remarked, ‘you’re remarkably well informed. Then you know who defeated Lord Æthelhelm in the battle at Lundene?’ He paused. ‘No? It was my father.’ He held the letter, but made no attempt to open it. ‘And what I find very odd, Ealdred, is that my father has gone to meet King Æthelstan, yet you bring me a letter. Wouldn’t it have been easier just to give it to him in Cumbria?’

  ‘The letter explains it,’ Ealdred said, barely hiding his anger.

  ‘Of course it does.’ There was a pause as my son broke the seal and unfolded the big sheet, which, I could see, had two more seals at the lower edge. ‘The king’s seal again!’ My son sounded surprised. ‘And isn’t that my father’s seal next to it?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Is it?’ My son peered at the second seal, which was certainly not mine, then handed the letter to Benedetta. ‘What do you think, my lady? Oh, and Ealdred, do you know the Lady Benedetta? She is the Lady of Bebbanburg.’

  ‘I do not.’

  Benedetta gave him a scornful look, then pulled a second candle closer so she could examine the seal. ‘The wolf,’ she said, ‘it is not right. The wolf of Lord Uhtred has four fangs, this has three and a …’ she shrugged, unable to find the word she wanted.

  ‘Three fangs and a smudge,’ my son said. ‘Perhaps my father’s seal was damaged on your journey. You look uncomfortable, Ealdred, do pull up a bench while I struggle with the longer words.’

  Ealdred said nothing, just linked his hands behind his back, a gesture Alaina immediately imitated, causing Ælswyth to giggle. Ealdred, who could not see the girl, looked infuriated.

  My son began reading the letter. ‘He sends me greetings, isn’t that kind? And he says you are one of his most trusted advisers.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Then I’m doubly honoured, Ealdred,’ my son beamed a smile.

  ‘Lord Ealdred,’ Ealdred said though gritted teeth.

  ‘Oh! You’re a lord! I forgot. Lord of what?’ There was no answer and my son, still smiling, shrugged. ‘No doubt you’ll remember in time.’ He went back to the letter, absent-mindedly cutting a piece of cheese as he read. ‘Oh dear,’ he said after a while, ‘this does seem strange. I am to house you here? You and two hundred men?’

  ‘Such is the king’s wish,’ Ealdred said.

  ‘So he says! And my father agrees!’

  ‘Your father saw the wisdom of the king’s wishes.’

  ‘Did he, indeed? And what is that wisdom, Ealdred?’

  ‘The king believes it imperative to hold this fortress against any attempt of the Scots to take it by force.’

  ‘I can see my father would agree with that. And my father believes his own forces are incapable of doing that?’

  ‘I have seen your forces,’ Ealdred said defiantly, ‘unkempt, ill-disciplined and filthy!’

  ‘They are a disgrace,’ my son said happily, ‘but they can fight!’

  ‘The king wishes Bebbanburg to be held securely,’ Ealdred said.

  ‘Oh Ealdred! How wise of the king!’ My son leaned back in his chair and ate the scrap of cheese. ‘It must be held securely, indeed it must! Is that why my father added his seal to the king’s letter?’

  ‘Of course,’ Ealdred said stiffly.

  ‘And you saw him do it?’

  The slightest hesitation, then Ealdred nodded. ‘I did.’

  ‘And you’re really a lord? Not a mere messenger?’

  ‘I am a lord.’

  ‘Then you’re a lying toad of a lord,’ my son said, smiling. ‘A toad of no truth, a dishonest toad. No, worse, you’re nothing but toad shit, lying toad shit. My father did not add his seal to this letter.’

  ‘You’re calling me a liar!’

  ‘I just did!’

  Ealdred, goaded
to rage, put his hand on his sword’s hilt and took a pace forward, but the sound of my guards drawing steel through the throats of scabbards checked him. ‘I challenge you!’ he snarled at my son.

  ‘I challenge you!’ Alaina imitated him, and Ealdred, suddenly realising the child was still behind him and, turning, seeing her imitate his movements, lashed out. He slapped her hard, making her cry out as she fell to the stone floor.

  And I stepped through the curtain.

  One of Ealdred’s companions muttered a curse, but otherwise the only sounds in the hall were the sigh of the wind and my footsteps as I crossed the platform and went down the steps to the hall floor. I walked to Ealdred. ‘So not only are you a liar,’ I said, ‘but you strike little girls.’

  ‘I …’ he began.

  He got no further because I hit him. I too had been goaded to fury, but it was a cold fury, and the open-handed blow I struck was calculated, sudden and brutally hard. I might be old, but I have practised sword-craft every day of my life and that gives a man strength. My blow staggered him. He almost kept his feet, but I pushed him and he fell. Not one of his men moved, and no wonder, because forty of my men were now filing into the hall, their mail bright, their helmets gleaming, and their spears levelled.

  I stooped and gave Alaina my hand. A brave girl, she was not crying. ‘Do you have all your teeth?’ I asked her.

  She explored her mouth with her tongue, then nodded. ‘I think so.’

  ‘Tell me if any are missing and I’ll take that toad’s teeth to replace them.’ I stood over Ealdred. ‘You are not Lord of Bebbanburg,’ I told him, ‘I am. Now, before we discuss the king’s letter, take off your swords. All of you!’

  One by one they handed their swords to my son. Only Ealdred made no move, so my son simply dragged his blade from its scabbard. I had my men draw up tables and benches, then sat Ealdred and his men down. I called for wax and a candle and imprinted my seal on a scrap I tore from Æthelstan’s letter, then showed it to the priest alongside the seal fixed to the letter. ‘Are they the same seals?’

  The priest stared at them, plainly unhappy to be asked, but finally shook his head. ‘It doesn’t appear so, lord,’ he muttered.