by K T Findlay
Offa’s mouth dropped open. ‘You’re serious! But he can’t! Grimketil’s the best! Wulfstan couldn’t beat Grimketil with trained soldiers, let alone a bunch of untrained girls!’
‘You didn’t see him last night before the feast. He was strong and firm in ordering the treatment he received. He treated Hengist with deep compassion, love and support, as one best friend to another. Not only that, he was wise in his words and actions. He even wormed his way into Ravena’s affections, and you know what she really thought of him up to yesterday! You’re too hard on him. He’s always been a bright, intelligent, and loving child, but now he’s become someone you’ll be proud to call your son.’
Offa’s jaw continued to hang open. Collecting himself he asked ‘So, do you think I need to rescind Hengist’s punishment? Take back my bet with Wulfstan?’
It was Cynethryth’s turn to think. She turned away and looked into the flames of the fire. ‘I don’t see how you can do either of those things, even though I would wish that you would. To rescind Hengist’s punishment would probably make Grimketil think he can strike Wulfstan and get away with it. Wulfstan really pushed him last night. Grimketil lost a lot of face, two of his favourite girls, and he’s very angry about it all. And since having his morning beer, he’s been in an even worse mood, wandering about trying all the barrels he can find, even your special ones. I have no idea what that’s all about, but he was swearing under his breath the whole time.’
‘Secondly, I don’t think you can call off your bet without making it look as if you made a foolish mistake last night. Jaenberht would revel in that at the next synod when he wants to manipulate you.’
Offa came up behind her, and put his arms around her, clasping his hands gently but firmly over her tummy. He pulled her lovingly into his chest, and dropped his face into her hair. She smiled, and stroked the back of his hands. For a full minute they stayed together, her scent filling his world, as he mulled things through. He kissed the top of her head, and gently turned her to face him. ‘So what do you think I should do?’
She kissed his cheek. ‘Give him your full support. Buy him what he asks for. And encourage him. Don’t belittle him again, especially not in public. And just maybe, once in a while, you might tell him you love him. I know you love him, but you’ve never told him, nor shown it in any other way, and I don’t think he knows.’
Their eyes rested together, a few inches apart. Ever so slightly, he nodded. Then they kissed. For a long time.
Wulfstan was astonished. He’d never seen his parents so tender together. And he’d genuinely never known that his father loved him. He’d always been terrified of Offa!!! Hardly a smile, little encouragement, harsh words, nothing Wulfstan did was ever good enough. And now. And now. And now, he knew. He knew his father loved him.
For an instant fear and jealousy ripped through him. ‘He doesn’t love me! He loves Thomas, and what Thomas is!!’ And then he remembered his mother’s words “I know you love him…” and knew his fear was groundless. Then regretfully, but respectfully, he left them, to go back to the marketplace.
✽✽✽
‘Wulfstan!’ came a boyish cry.
Thomas looked up. ‘Hello?’
Wulfstan was just exiting the Palace window, but instantly he was back in the body, covering the three hundred yards in less than a second. Much to his surprise, Thomas was booted out the same distance on the other side, and it took him a moment to get his bearings.
Ethelwulf ran up, puffing away. ‘I thought you were dead yesterday! How have you recovered so fast? Hengist! How are you? Are these the two ladies everyone is talking about? And -’
Wulfstan laughed, and gave him a big hug. ‘Everything’s just fine! It’s going to be alright! Let me introduce you to everyone.’ And for the next fifteen minutes they talked and jabbered like the boys they were.
Thomas watched from afar, thinking about their latest body swap. This was the first time it had happened when the outside person was a long way away, and it could lead to trouble if it happened in the middle of a conversation. He floated up to the treetops, where he lay on his back and thought, meditating on a kite soaring high above.
Hengist and the girls continued to shop as the boys walked beside them, then Grimketil came around the corner with four of his men. Seeing Hengist still armed, Grimketil lost his temper.
‘Slave! How dare you carry a sword in the marketplace?!’ he screamed, drawing his own from its scabbard. His four cronies raised their spears, fanning out to block escape.
Wulfstan spun around. ‘Bows! Load and prepare to draw! Shoot on my word!’ and stepped to Hengist’s side.
Berthilda had her arrow nocked and ready in seconds, Rowena a little behind. Hengist instinctively drew his blade.
‘How dare you threaten a thegn, slave?!?!?’ screamed the enraged Grimketil, still advancing rapidly, sword waving with intent.
Wulfstan leapt in front of him, unarmed. ‘Would you kill an unarmed prince in the marketplace Grimketil? What would my father do to you after that?’
He turned his head and screamed at the men to his right. ‘You two! Stop where you are or I’ll let my ladies drop you where you stand!’ And spinning his head to the left he added ‘And that goes for you two too!’
Startled, they did, looking at Grimketil for their next move.
The thegn’s face was white with anger, the veins on his forehead bulging and throbbing. He glared with pure hatred at Wulfstan. ‘What did you tell that redhead to put in my beer last night?!?! I know from this morning that whatever you had her give me wasn’t just beer! What trick were you playing?’
‘Put your sword away Grimketil. And have your men lower their spears. And then we’ll talk beer.’
Grimketil nodded angrily to the men, who withdrew to his side and rested their weapons on the ground.
When Grimketil’s sword was safely back in its scabbard, Wulfstan turned to his flame haired companion. ‘Rowena, Grimketil thinks you and I conspired to put something in his beer last night.’
Rowena, bow still in hand, but lowered and undrawn, said ‘Last night I gave him the same kind of beer I have given him since the day he kidnapped me. Nothing different except it was from the King’s best barrel. That’s the truth.’
‘I tried that barrel this morning and it tasted completely different!’ Grimketil cried.
‘You drank out of the King’s own barrel?’ asked Wulfstan, pretending to be serious. ‘Does he know?’
Grimketil jerked his head, and said nothing.
‘He might be quite annoyed about that… You really should have asked his permission.’ Wulfstan’s smile was as sweet as could be. ‘Perhaps though, we should say nothing about it, for your sake. What do you think?’
Grimketil was shaking with the realisation that he was in someone else’s power for once. He nodded, uncertainly.
‘Excellent!’ soothed Wulfstan. ‘I think perhaps Rowena has a special gift when it comes to beer. It’s simply that you’ll never have her pour you one again, and you’re already missing it. Nothing more than that I think. Don’t you agree?’ Again the gentle smile.
Grimketil swallowed, nodded in a jerky sort of way, then bowed clumsily to Wulfstan, turned and walked off, taking his men with him.
‘One thing’s for sure Rowena,’ Wulfstan said, ‘he’ll have to really experiment to find out how you make his beer so special!!’
He, Rowena and Berthilda doubled up in laughter. Hengist looked on perplexed until Rowena took pity on him, and whispered into his ear. Disbelief spread across his face.
‘No!? Really? No!! You’re joking surely? For how long did you do that? Every single time!!?? How did you…’ until he stuttered into silence. And then he too threw his head back and roared in appreciation.
‘What? What is it you’re all laughing at?’ demanded Ethelwulf, unhappy at being the odd one out.
‘I’ll tell you when you’re older!’ laughed Wulfstan. ‘Come with us back to the Palace.’
Suddenly he was aware that Thomas was back. ‘Hello my friend! How are you? What have you been up to?’
‘Oh, just floating around, watching the birds. I saw what you just did. Most impressive. What were you up to before the last body swap?’
‘I was watching my father get cross about all the money we’re costing him today. And finding out how he really feels about me.’
‘And that is what precisely?’ asked Thomas.
Wulfstan told him.
‘That’s brilliant.’ said Thomas. ‘You must be really pleased about that.’
‘I am.’ agreed Wulfstan. ‘For the first time in my life, I’m truly happy.’
6 Manor from heaven
They spent the rest of the day getting ready, and after a good breakfast the following morning, they set out for Hengist’s manor, ten miles to the west. Thomas was relieved that after the marketplace altercation the previous day, Grimketil and his men had left for his own manor thirty miles south east of Tamworth.
The four of them made an interesting sight, the women in particular triggering a lot of chatter because they rode in their male clothes and not dresses. Berthilda once more used no bridle or halter, her rich roan horse responding to the subtle movements of her weight and legs. Thomas was astonished that she’d been able to bond with her new mount in less than a day, and that it was so responsive to her commands.
For himself, it was a new experience. Fortunately, Wulfstan’s body’s muscle memories and training made much of it automatic, and despite Thomas never having sat on a horse before, he found he could ride quite well. It was interesting that he and Wulfstan seemed to share the physical skills they each knew, yet their conscious minds and detailed memories remained separate. Thomas wondered how it all worked.
Connected by the lead ropes the other horses followed along, including Hengist’s who was enjoying not having a load for a change.
Wulfstan floated above, watching everything unfold. Once they were clear of the town he scouted ahead and off to the sides of the road, checking out the hedgerows, the forest edges, and even the condition of the crossings long before the party arrived at each river or stream.
The road itself was pretty basic, little more than a dirt track. Thomas thought it must get very boggy in winter, probably impassable to carts, but the countryside was beautiful. Sometimes there were fields of grass, sometimes of crops, and often there was forest. Everywhere there was birdsong, and high above soared the kites, hawks and other birds of prey. Thomas simply revelled in his new young eyes. He’d regretted the deterioration in his eyesight as he’d got older, but as it happened over a long time he hadn’t realised just how huge the loss had been. Or perhaps he’d never ever had a set of really good eyes? Well, he had them now, and he certainly wasn’t going to take them for granted!
He was thoughtful too, primarily about the King and Queen. They’d had a truly royal send off. The Queen had been lovely, not just a doting mum towards Wulfstan, but warm to all of them. And Offa himself had been a real surprise. The hostility and temper of the previous night had vanished like the mist on a sunny dawn. He’d given Wulfstan a great big hug, not a bone crusher to show his own strength, but a warm, enveloping cocoon.
There had been farewell gifts too. The girls got to keep the dresses Ravena had sorted out for them the night before, and Wulfstan was given a beautiful small sword. It was the right size and weight for him, but Thomas thought it looked more impressive than effective. Then again, it was a status item, not intended for use, so that was okay. And of course there was the money. Offa had tried to head off his losses by giving his son two saddle bags of the stuff, imploring his young lad to use it wisely. Thomas silently noted that he hadn’t been told to pay everything else out of it, so thought he would still send the bills for his remaining girls on to Offa wherever the court was.
And that was a key point. The Mercian court, always itinerant, was itself on the move again. Offa was off to the south east to show his face and collect his tributes. To be a king meant traveling around showing yourself to your people, an almost constant round of travel. He had the occasional week or two in his beloved palace at Tamworth of course. He enjoyed that. The palace was famous across Europe, and he enjoyed knowing that too!
What it meant for Wulfstan and Thomas was that they were on their own. There would be no kingly backup available if they needed it.
Wulfstan bobbed happily along. He couldn’t remember being so happy ever before. He’d started the day in the body, but when it came time to leave his parents, he’d found himself staying where he was as the horse moved out from under him, and Thomas took over. He’d stayed until he saw the party leaving Tamworth, whereupon he took up his scouting duties with some reluctance. Happily though, the warm glow never left him.
So all in all it was a good ride to Hengist’s manor, but the mood was about to change.
They entered from the south, the road meandering through a dozen or so huts before approaching a T intersection.
‘That’s the hall straight ahead, with the kitchen over to our left.’ said Hengist. ‘The servants’ quarters are those two buildings to the left of that -’
At that moment, two men came running down the road in front of those very buildings, one chasing the other. Startled by the riders’ appearance, the one in front stumbled and fell. In an instant his pursuer was standing over him, lashing down with a thin branch ripped from a tree, causing the fallen man to scream in pain.
Thomas urged his horse forward, crying out for the man to cease and desist. Startled, the aggressor looked up. He didn’t recognise Thomas, but did recognise the wealth and status his horse and dress implied. He reached down, grabbed his victim by the neck and dragged him to his knees, where he held him fast.
He relaxed a bit when he saw Hengist riding up behind. ‘Welcome home my Lord!’ he cried.
‘What’s going on Cuthbert?’ asked Hengist.
‘This wretch refuses to pay me my tithe!’ said Cuthbert angrily, shaking his victim. ‘I have asked for it three times now, and always he makes the excuses. He claims to have managed his affairs so badly that he cannot pay. I say that he needs to be taught respect to the Church of our Lord!’
Hengist turned in his saddle to face the others. ‘Cuthbert is the village priest. Ashlin,’ he said, indicating Cuthbert’s victim, ‘is a farmer who tills the fields at the edge of the river.’
‘Let him go Cuthbert.’ said Thomas.
Cuthbert looked at Hengist, who nodded in reply. Cuthbert did let his victim go, using the gentle technique known as throwing your enemy to the ground where Ashlin sprawled, groaning.
Thomas leaned forward ‘So we are talking about a Church tithe, a tenth of one’s income to the Church, yes?’
The man nodded miserably.
‘And why can you not pay?’
Ashlin looked up fearfully, glancing sideways at Hengist. ‘Half my land was washed away in the winter flood, with most of my tools and grain. I have barely enough food to feed my family, no spare seed to plant for next year, so none left over for the priest and his church. He can beat me as much as he wants. There is nothing to give.’
The priest scowled angrily. ‘It is God’s will, punishing you for being so wicked!! Only paying your tithe will wash the sin away that caused your land to be taken.’
Shocked, Thomas asked ‘Are you suggesting that God took his land on purpose, to punish him for something? And that you are therefore entitled to make his family starve as part of the same deal?’
‘Of course my Lord.’ replied the priest. ‘God’s will is in everything.’
Thomas looked at him, mouth smiling, eyes hard. ‘Then that must include me too. I am the new owner of the manor, and using your own logic, in the name of God I excuse this man of his tithe. The Church is surely there to nurture and grow our people, not to see them starve. To encourage a just world, and not to inflict injustice itself. To offer mercy where mercy is deserved, and not to inflict punishment where none is me
rited. Don’t you agree?’
Cuthbert looked startled. He turned questioningly to Hengist, who nodded. ‘This is Prince Wulfstan, son of our King, and the new owner of the manor.’
‘Your Highness,’ said Cuthbert, ‘the tithe is taken very seriously by the Church. It is not just a gift to the priests and monks, not just to the Church even, but to God himself. It is not to be discarded lightly. I must insist upon my rights.’
Thomas looked thoughtful. ‘This village has about 30 households, plus Hengist’s and mine. That means you collect thirty two tithes, or to put it another way a full tenth of all the manor’s income. That’s just over the annual income for three families in total. Correct?’
‘Yes Your Highness.’ replied Cuthbert.
‘I assume there is just the one priest, plus a servant or two to help him. Correct?’
‘Yes Your Highness.’ repeated Cuthbert.
‘That makes less than a standard household, with more than three times the income. What do you do with it all that you cannot excuse a starving man from his obligation?’
Cuthbert thrust out his chin ‘Some of it goes towards saving for the building of the new church, once you have gifted the land for it. Some goes to pay me for the writing and numerical skills I provide to you and the manor. Some goes to support the poor, and the rest goes to the Archbishop for works that enhance the glory of God.’
Thomas’s fake smile faded away until the mouth matched the eyes. Cuthbert maintained his pugnacious pose, but could not help a little shiver of unease looking at this strange boy.
‘Well master priest, Ashlin would currently appear to be a member of the poor, and I cannot remember any story of Jesus taking food out of anyone’s mouth. In fact, if I remember rightly, he did more for the glory of God by his good deeds, than by anything he built or bought. I cannot think that Jesus would agree with your actions, and I cannot agree with them myself. Mercy will be granted in this instance. The man is excused his tithe this year. Tomorrow Hengist and I will meet with the village and discuss what can be done about his land, so he can perhaps meet his obligations in future.’
