The Fall of the House of Æthelfrith

by H A CULLEY

  The three of them went back outside to be met by a grinning Uurad walking towards them with his helmet in one hand and a sword dripping blood in the other.

  ‘It’s all over, Swefred. The men are rounding up the sentries and the rest of the people living here now. Do you want to speak to them?’

  ‘Yes, those who were here when I left can stay with their families, of course. The rest are to be stripped of weapons, armour and anything of value and expelled at dawn. They can fend for themselves. I hope they have treated the inhabitants well whilst they’ve been here or they may experience some rough justice.’

  Cenred nodded.

  ‘It’ll probably take a week or so before the news reaches Eoforwīc and the fat hits the fire. Then we’ll see what happens.’

  ~~~

  Bishop Eadfrith read Swefred’s letter with mixed feelings. He’d been asked to call a Witan to meet at Bebbanburg in one month’s time to depose Osred and elect a new king. He deplored Osred’s morals and the injustice he perpetrated but he feared that the kingdom now faced civil war. He opposed all forms of killing and hoped that there could be a bloodless solution to the present situation. He decided to travel the short distance to Bebbanburg and see what could be done.

  As he travelled over the sea towards the fortress he could plainly see that the stronghold was surrounded by an armed camp. At first he thought that the place was under siege and nearly turned around to head back to Lindisfarne, but then he realised that the gates were open and people were going to and fro.

  As he landed Swefred and his wife, Kendra, came down to meet him with their son Ulfric and their foster child, Æthelwald Moll. Both boys were now four and evidently close as they stood together holding hands. Eadfrith smiled at them but then frowned as he looked at the large encampment.

  ‘It seems that you are preparing for war, rather than a Witan, Swefred.’

  ‘Why don’t you come up to my hall, bishop, where we can talk in more comfort?’

  ‘Comfort has never been one of my priorities, but lead on.’

  ‘I agree that Osred is a bad king and a worse Christian but you have sworn fealty to him,’ the bishop said as soon as they were seated in the hall with the four ealdormen of Lothian and Cenred.

  ‘Not me; he refused to accept my oath initially, if you recall, and I had fled to Man before the second oath.’

  ‘Perhaps, but the others will be foresworn.’

  ‘He lost our loyalty when he capriciously deprived ealdormen of their shires with no good reason so that he could reward his toadies,’ Beorhtmund said angrily.

  The bishop thought for a moment.

  ‘Would it help if I formally absolved you of your fealty to Osred?’

  One of the other ealdormen shrugged. ‘We are already in revolt against his rule, but if it would sit better with our fellow ealdormen and the priests, then why not? Thank you bishop.’ He added hastily, realising that he’d been a bit churlish.

  ‘Where is Eochaid, by the way? I had expected him to be with you, Beorhtmund.’

  ‘He’s gone to retrieve his shire.’

  ‘Ah, of course. I assume that the camp outside contains the warbands and the fyrd of Lothian. There must be at least a thousand men there?’

  ‘So far,’ he confirmed. ‘We expect the ealdormen of four of the other Bernician shires to join us soon.’

  The bishop nodded.

  ‘And Deira, Cumbria and Luncæstershire – will they support you?’

  ‘That remains to be seen. All we desire is to depose Osred and elect a new king. We suspect we won’t be able to do that without a show of force but we hope to avoid war if possible.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear it. Who will succeed Osred if you succeed? Not Otta, I assume, and Osric is too young. So it will have to be another ætheling. You Swefred? After all your brother was king briefly.’

  ‘No,’ he replied flatly. ‘Cenred.’

  ‘Ah, of course. Son of Cuthwin, son of Leoldwald, son of Egwald, son of Aldhelm, son of Ocga, illegitimate son of Ida.’

  ‘You know your genealogy, bishop.’

  ‘I’m a scholar. You tend to remember these things. Of course, Ida had twelve sons.’

  ‘Yes, but few of them had sons of their own and only the Houses of Æthelfrith and Leoldwald have descendants alive today,’ Cenred said quickly.

  ‘Possibly, others may disagree.’

  ‘They may claim it but cannot prove it, as I can,’ Cenred said a little heatedly.

  Swefred put a calming hand on his forearm.

  ‘If there are others, then presumably they can state their claim to the Witan.’

  ‘That is true. Very well then, I will write to John of Beverley and Acca of Hexham to appraise them of the situation. If they agree, I will then summons them, the abbots and the ealdormen to a Witan to be held here. But when? Shall we say six weeks from now?’

  ‘I would rather it was sooner, Eadfrith,’ Swefred said. ‘I want to prevent a war, as you do. If we delay it may be too late to avoid it.’

  He didn’t add that the fyrd would not want to be away from their homes and their fields for too long with the sowing season approaching.

  ~~~

  Osred rode north with his army intent on putting down the uprising before it got too serious. Knowing his temper no one dared tell him that Swefred had now mustered over two thousand men and so he was convinced that the thousand he was taking with him would suffice.

  He was disabused of that notion when he crested the last ridge to the south west and saw the extent of the encampment below the fortress.

  ‘It may only be those who have answered the call to attend the Witan, brother,’ Otta told him placatingly, though he didn’t really believe it himself.

  ‘What, and they’ve brought their warbands and their fyrds to a meeting have they? You’re a fool Otta.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘Do? Why demand that they disperse or lose their shires and probably their lives - and those of their families - if they disobey me. After all, I’m their king and they’ve sworn an oath to be loyal to me. You’ll soon see, most of them are cowards and they’ll back down when I confront them.’

  As they approached the camp men started to arm themselves and form up ready for battle. Osred halted two hundred yards from the rebels' front rank and rode forward another fifty yards until he was confident that all were in range of his powerful voice.

  ‘Men of Northumbria, what is this? You all know me I’m your lawfully elected and anointed king.’

  At that moment a horseman burst out of the trees to the right of where the king was sitting on his horse and galloped towards him. It took everyone by surprise and, before anyone could react, the man threw his spear with unerring accuracy at the king before racing back into the trees. No one else knew who the assassin was but, despite the full face helmet that had once belonged to the previous lord of Bebbanburg, Swefred recognised the markings on the assassin’s horse. It belonged to Cenred.

  Otta cried ‘No’ as he saw his brother fall. He threw himself off his horse and ran to his side. He cradled him in his arms but he knew that the heavy weight he held could only belong to a corpse.

  ‘No,’ he shrieked. ‘It cannot be. Who has done this? A chest of gold to the man who brings me the murderer’s head.’

  Several men rode off into the trees at this but Cenred was long gone.

  Swefred rode out of the stronghold and halted his horse just in front of his army.

  ‘I bitterly regret this Otta. It was none of my doing. Oh, I’d have happily killed your brother, but in fair fight. This was the coward’s way.’

  Otta stood up and glared at Swefred.

  ‘This is your fault, traitor. If you hadn’t returned my brother would still be alive. I’ll have your head for this!’

  ‘It is your brother who was the traitor; he betrayed the nobles and the good people of Northumbria with his whoring, sacrilege, injustice and cruelty. I’m glad that he’s dead, but I re
gret the manner of his going. I suggest that you take him to Lindisfarne to be given a Christian burial. The Witan will have to decide what becomes of you.’

  ‘He never believed in your God and the last place he would want to be buried is on Lindisfarne. I’ll bury him at Driffield, near where our father is buried.’

  ‘Then you will have to wait until the Witan is over.’

  ‘Who says? You? You are an outlaw.’

  ‘You don’t seem to realise the realities of the situation, Otta. You are outnumbered two to one and, by the look of it, few of your men seem very keen to fight for you.’

  ‘But, with my brother dead, I am his heir. Who else is there? Osric? He’s a child.’

  ‘So are you. Besides, your behaviour has mirrored Osred’s and that has endeared you to no one. There are other æthelings as well.’

  ‘Such as? You, I suppose?’ he sneered. ‘Or do you intend to invite Eadwulf back?’

  ‘Why does everyone assume I want the throne? I’m not an ætheling, neither is my brother. No, I refer to the Leoldwaldings, Cenred and Ceolwulf.’

  ‘They are not of the House of Æthelfrith.’

  ‘No, but they can prove their descent from Ida through the male line.’

  Otta looked around him and his shoulders slumped.

  ‘It seems you have won after all, Swefred. Very well, I’ll tell my ealdormen to stay for the Witan and ask them to send the army home now. What do you intend to do with me?’

  ‘Provided you are not elected, which seems likely, I will recommend that you are allowed to go into exile.’

  ‘Exile? Where?’

  ‘I don’t really care. Hibernia, Frankia, Frisia. You choose.’

  ‘How do you know I won’t come back and claim the throne?’

  ‘Because everyone will remember that you are a sacrilegious wastrel like your brother and no one would support you.’

  It was a pity for his sake that Otta didn’t remember Swefred’s advice.

  Chapter Twenty Three - Cenred

  716 – 718 AD

  After his election Cenred set about dispossessing the men who Osred had favoured and restoring the original ealdormen to their shires. The dispossessed joined Otta in exile; a decision that worried Swefred as it gave him a power base of resentful nobles in Neustria, where he had been welcomed as the guest of King Chilperic II.

  A few months after his arrival Chilperic joined the Frisians in attacking Austrasia and Cenred joined his army with his small group of supporters. It was to provide Otta with a good training in the art of war and some useful allies, all of which boded ill for Northumbria in the future.

  Cenred sent for Osric soon after he had begun his reign and was much taken with the boy. He was as dissimilar to his elder siblings as it was possible to be. At fourteen he had already decided that he wished to be a scholar like his father but, also like him, not to enter Holy Orders. Unlike Aldfrith, though, he was witty as well as bright and Cenred found him a congenial companion. When Coelwulf, now sixteen, joined his brother at Eoforwīc, the two boys soon became friends; a friendship that would last throughout Osric’s lifetime.

  Meanwhile Swefred settled back down to the life of an ealdorman, dispensing justice, collecting taxes and managing his estates. Cenred had appointed him as hereræswa again, which took him away from Bebbanburg from time to time but he left the northern border to Beorhtmund. Mercia was still engaged in a power struggle with Wessex so the southern border wasn’t a concern either.

  The one area where there was some conflict was Cumbria. When Beli had retreated back into Strathclyde five years previously, the Cumbrians had followed them across the Esk into Galloway and had seized the coastal strip along the north shore of the Solway Firth. Now Beli was plotting to take it back. It was a useful buffer zone and Cenred had told Swefred that he wanted him to make sure that it remained part of Northumbria.

  After he had become a hostage Óengus, Nectan’s younger son, had remained at Dùn Barra as a guest of Beorhtmund. When he was eleven he had been sent to Lindisfarne to be educated and, now that he was fourteen, he was ready to start his training as a warrior. He had just arrived at Bebbanburg to join the other trainees when Swefred sent for him.

  ‘Do you miss your parents, Óengus?’

  The question took the boy off guard. It was the last thing he had expected to be asked and he thought for some time before he replied.

  ‘It is five years since I last saw them. At first I missed them quite dreadfully, especially my father. I was in a strange land with people whose customs and language I didn’t understand and all I wanted to do was to go home. Then I realised that I could spend the next few years being miserable until I was a man and was allowed to return home, or I could make the best of it. I chose the latter course.

  ‘Since then I have learned to speak English, made some good friends, learned a great deal and I’ve been happy. Now you ask if I miss my parents. To tell you the truth I rarely think about them anymore. If I was allowed to return home now I honestly don’t know how I’d feel. Home is here. I get on well with the other boys who’re learning to be warriors and I’m happy. If I went back to the Land of the Picts I would feel like a stranger, just as I did when I first came to live here.

  ‘I suppose I’d get used to it again but, to be truthful, you are more civilised and there are aspects of life as a Pict that I found unpleasant. Does that answer your question?’

  Swefred laughed. ‘Rather more fully than I had expected. Thank you. If I asked you to go back to see your father for me on the understanding that you’d then return here, would you do that?’

  ‘I suppose so. I think my parents would like to see me again; my brother less so.’

  ‘I’m sure they would. You parents might be loathe to allow you to go when it came time for you to leave, though.’

  ‘I’m sure, but you have my word. My father wouldn’t expect me to break an oath.’

  Swefred looked at Óengus speculatively for a moment and then made his mind up.

  ‘I want you to take a message to him for me.’

  ‘I see. Am I allowed to know what’s in this message?’

  ‘Yes, I don’t see why not – provided you swear to keep it to yourself.’

  ‘I swear. Do you want me to do so on a Bible?’

  ‘No, your word is good enough for me. Strathclyde is plotting to attack the Cumbrians who have settled along the north shore of the Solway Firth. I want to enter into an alliance with your father so that he will move against Strathclyde if Beli attacks us.’

  ‘Why should he do that?’

  ‘Because I won’t interfere if he keeps some of the territory he captures. And I will give you a free choice about whether you stay there or return here to complete your warrior training.’

  ‘I suspect it would suit my father to reduce the power of Strathclyde but he will want more than your neutrality.’

  ‘How do you know what he wants until you’ve spoken to him?’

  ‘Because I know what I would want if I was him.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘Your active help.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because, with Northumbria as an ally, he can try to unite all of Alba, which I’m told is what the Picts are now calling Caledonia, under his rule.’

  ‘I doubt that is in Northumbria’s best interest.’

  ‘It’ll happen sooner or later, just as either Mercia or Wessex will eventually dominate all of England south of the Humber.’

  ‘Who has taught you to think like this? You sound more like a great scholar than a fourteen year old boy.’

  ‘When I was at Lindisfarne I was sent to Jarrow to learn from a monk they call the Venerable Bede.’

  ‘Bede is an astute man but for him to have taught you to think strategically like that you must have a clever mind. I hope you’re never King of the Picts, or even worse, of a united Caledonia, er, Alba.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I think you would give Nor
thumbria problems.’

  Óengus laughed.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m more of a thinker than a doer.’

  ‘You’ll go to see your father for me then?’

  ‘Yes, but only to arrange a meeting between you. There are too many details that need to be sorted out for me to act as your emissary.’

  ‘Very well. I’ll meet him at the bridge near Stirling in two weeks’ time.’

  ~~~

  Otta was on the run. Chilperic had conducted a victorious campaign and been crowned king of the united kingdom of Frankia, Austrasia and Neustria. Then, just when everybody thought that the war was over, Chilperic’s army had been attacked and defeated by Charles Martel, Duke of the Franks. Now Martel was the virtual ruler of the three kingdoms and Chilperic was his prisoner, though he was still the titular king.

  Otta had had enough of the complex politics of the Continent and decided to return to England incognito with a handful of friends.

  ‘It’s time I dealt with Cenred and with that damned man, Swefred.’

  ‘How,’ one of his companions asked. ‘Will you try and raise an army?’

  ‘Not at first. I’ll kill Cenred by stealth and then invite the Witan to elect me as king. Don’t you know? I’m a reformed character!’

  His friends burst out laughing. If anything Otta was more of a rake that Osred ever was.

  They thought he was joking about killing Cenred, but he was in deadly earnest.

  ~~~

  ‘I’m sure that we can both get what we want by diplomacy backed up by the threat of force, rather than outright war,’ Swefred suggested.

  He had walked onto the middle of the bridge over the River Forth below the brooding mass of the fortress at Stirling on a blustery day, the wind whipping at his cloak. He was unarmed but, in any case he needed both his hands free; one to clutch at the handrail on the creaking bridge and the other to keep his cloak wrapped around him to keep off the squally showers that kept driving at him horizontally. He was beginning to think that he should withdraw and try again on a less blustery day when Nectan rode up to the other side of the bridge accompanied by Óengus.