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Authors: Bernard Cornwell

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We had heard little news of .Wessex, except that it was at peace. Guthrum, of course, had
been defeated and had accepted baptism as part of the peace treaty he made with Alfred. He
had taken the baptismal name of Æthelstan, which meant

'noble stone', and Alfred was his godfather, and reports from the south said that Guthrum
or whatever he was now called was keeping the peace. Alfred lived, and that was about all we
knew.

Guthred decided he would send an embassy to Alfred. He chose four Danes and four Saxons
to ride south, reckoning that such a group could ride safely through Danish or Saxon
territory, and he chose Willibald to carry his message. Willibald wrote it down, his quill
scratching on a piece of newly scraped parchment. 'By God's help.' Guthred dictated, 'I
have taken the kingdom of Northumbria

'Which is called Haliwerfolkland.' Eadred interrupted. Guthred waved courteously, as
if to suggest that Willibald could decide for himself whether to add that phrase. 'And I am
determined,' Guthred went on, 'by God's grace to rule this land in peace and justice

'Not so fast, lord.' Willibald said.

'And to teach them how to brew proper ale.' Guthred continued.

'And to teach them . . .' Willibald said under his breath. Guthred laughed. 'No, no, father!
You don't write that!'

Poor Willibald. That letter was so long that another lambskin had to be stretched, scraped
and trimmed. The message went on and on about the holy Saint Cuthbert and how he had brought
the army of the holy folk to Eoferwic, and how Guthred would make a shrine to the saint. The
letter did mention that there were still enemies who might spoil that ambition, but it made
light of them, as though Ivarr and Kjartan and Ælfric were minor obstacles. It asked for
King Alfred's prayers and assured the king of Wessex that prayers were being said for him
each day by the Christians of Haliwerfolkland. 'I should send Alfred a present,' Guthred
said, 'what would he like?'

'A relic.' I suggested sourly.

That was a good suggestion for there was nothing Alfred loved so dearly as a holy relic,
but there was nothing much to be had in Eoferwic. The archbishop's church possessed many
treasures, including the sponge on which Jesus had been given wine to drink as he died and
it also had the halter from Balaam's ass, though who Balaam was I did not know, and why his
ass was holy was even more of a mystery. The church possessed a dozen such things, but the
archbishop had carried them away with him and no one was certain where Wulfhere was. I
assumed he had joined Ivarr. Hrothweard said he had a seed from a sycamore tree mentioned in
the gospel book, but when we opened the silver box in which the seed was kept there was nothing
but dust. In the end I suggested that we drew two of Saint Oswald's three teeth. Eadred
so at that, then decided that the idea was not so bad after all, pliers were fetched and
the small chest opened and one of the monks tugged out two of the dead king's yellow peg-like
teeth, and they were placed in a beautiful silver pot that Egbert had used to store smoked
oysters. The embassy left on a late August morning. Guthred took Willibald aside and gave him
a last message for Alfred, assuring Alfred that though he, Guthred, was a Dane he was also
a Christian, and begging that should Northumbria be threatened by enemies that Alfred
should send warriors to fight for God's land. That was pissing into the wind, I thought, for
Wessex had enemies enough without worrying about Northumbria's fate.

I also took Willibald aside. I was sorry he was going, for I liked him, and he was a good
man, but I could see he was impatient to see Wessex again. 'You will do something for me,
father.' I said.

'If it is possible.' he said cautiously.

'Give the king my greetings.' I said.

Willibald looked relieved as if he had expected my favour to be a great deal more
burdensome, which it was, as he would find out. The king will want to know when you will
return, lord.' he said.

'In good time.' I answered, though the only reason I now had for visiting Wessex was to
retrieve the hoard I had hidden at Fifhaden. I regretted burying that treasure now, for in
truth I never wanted to see Wessex again. 'I want you to find Earl Ragnar.' I told
Willibald.

His eyes widened. 'The hostage?' he asked.

'Find him,' I said, 'and give him a message from me.'

'If I can.' he said, still cautious.

I gripped his shoulders to make him pay attention and he grimaced from the strength of my
hands. 'You will find him,' I said threateningly, 'and you will give him a message. Tell him
I am going north to kill Kjartan. And tell him his sister lives. Tell him I will do all I can
to find her and keep her safe. Tell him I swear that on my life. And tell him to come here as
soon as he is freed.' I made him repeat it, and I made him swear on his crucifix that he would
deliver the message and he was reluctant to make such an oath, but he was frightened
of my anger and so he gripped the little cross and made the solemn promise.

And then he went.

And we had an army again, for the harvest was gathered, and it was time to strike north.

Guthred went north for three reasons. The first was Ivarr who had to be defeated, and the
second was Kjartan whose presence in Northumbria was like a foul wound and the third was
Ælfric who had to submit to Guthred's authority. Ivarr was the most dangerous and he would
surely defeat us if he brought his army south. Kjartan was less dangerous, but he had to be
destroyed for there could be no peace in Northumbria while he lived. Ælfric was the least
dangerous. 'Your uncle is king in Bebbanburg,' Guthred told me as we marched north.

'Does he call himself that?' I asked, angry.

'No, no! He's got too much sense. But in effect that's what he is. Kjartan's land is a
barrier, isn't it? So Eoferwic's rule doesn't stretch past Dunholm.'

'We used to be kings in Bebbanburg,' I said.

'You did?' Guthred was surprised. 'Kings of Northumbria?'

'Of Bernicia,' I said. Guthred had never heard the name. 'It was all of northern
Northumbria,' I said, 'and everything around Eoferwic was the kingdom of Deira.'

'They joined together?' Guthred asked.

'We killed their last king,' I said, 'but that was years ago. Back before Christianity
came.'

'So you have a claim to the kingship here?' he asked and, to my astonishment, there was
suspicion in his voice. I stared at him and he blushed. 'But you do?' he said, trying to sound
as if he did not care what I answered. I laughed at him. 'Lord King,' I said, 'if you restore
me to Bebbanburg I shall kneel to you and swear you and your heirs lifelong fealty.'

'Heirs!' he said brightly. 'Have you seen Osburh?'

I've seen Osburh,' I said. She was Egbert's niece, a Saxon girl, and she had been living
in the palace when we took Eoferwic. She was fourteen, dark-haired and had a plump, pretty
face.

'If I marry her,' Guthred asked me, 'will Hild be her companion?'

'Ask her,' I said, jerking my head to where Hild followed us. I had thought Hild might
return to Wessex with Father Willibald, but she had said she was not ready to face Alfred yet
and I could not blame her for that and so I had not pressed her. 'I think she'd be honoured to
be your wife's companion,' I told Guthred.

We camped that first night at Onhripum where a small monastery gave Guthred, Eadred and the
host of clergymen shelter. Our army was close to six hundred men now, and almost half of
them were mounted, and our campfires lit the fields all about the monastery. As commander of
the household troops I camped closest to the buildings and my young men, who now numbered
forty, and most of whom possessed mail coats plundered from Eoferwic, slept close to the
monastery's gate.

I stood guard with Clapa and two Saxons for the first part of the night. Sihtric was with
me. I called him my servant, but he was learning to use a sword and shield and I reckoned he
would make a useful soldier in a year or two. 'You have the heads safe?' I asked him.

'You can smell them!' Clapa protested.

'No worse than you smell, Clapa,' I retorted.

'They're safe, lord,' Sihtric said.

'I should have eight heads.' I said, and put my fingers around Sihtric's throat. 'Pretty
skinny neck, Sihtric.'

'But it's a tough neck, lord,' he said.

Just then the monastery door opened and Gisela, cloaked in black, slipped through. 'You should
be asleep, lady,' I chided her.

'I can't sleep. I want to walk.' She stared defiantly at me. Her lips were slightly apart
and the firelight glinted off her teeth and reflected from her wide eyes.

'Where do you want to walk?' I asked.

She shrugged, still looking at me, and I thought of Hild sleeping in the monastery.

'I'll leave you in charge, Clapa,' I said, 'and if Ivarr comes, kill the bastard.'

'Yes, lord.'

I heard the guards sniggering as we walked away. I quietened them with a growl, then led
Gisela towards the trees east of the monastery for it was dark there. She reached out and took
my hand. She said nothing, content to walk close beside me. 'Aren't you frightened of the
night?' I asked her.

'Not with you.'

'When I was a child,' I said, 'I made myself into a sceadugengan.'

'What's a sceadugengan?' The word was Saxon and unfamiliar to her.

'A shadow-walker.' I told her. 'A creature that stalks the dark.' An owl hooted quite
close by and her fingers instinctively tightened on mine. We stopped under some
wind-rustled beech trees. Some small light came through the leaves, cast by the campfires, and
I tilted her face up and looked down at her. She was tall, but still a head shorter than me.
She let herself be examined, then closed her eyes as I drew a gentle finger down her long
nose.

'I. . .' I said, then stopped.

'Yes,' she said, as if she knew what I had been about to say. I made myself turn away from
her. 'I cannot make Hild unhappy.'

'She told me,' Gisela said, 'that she would have gone back to Wessex with Father Willibald,
but she wants to see if you capture Dunholm. She says she's prayed for that and it will be a
sign from her god if you succeed.'

'She said that?'

'She said it would be a sign that she must go back to her convent. She told me that
tonight.'

I suspected that was true. I stroked Gisela's face. 'Then we should wait till after
Dunholm is taken.' I said, and it was not what I wanted to say.

'My brother says I have to be a peace cow.' she said bitterly. A peace cow was a woman
married to a rival family in an attempt to bring friendship, and doubtless Guthred had in
mind Ivarr's son or else a Scottish husband. 'But I won't be a peace cow,' she said harshly.
'I cast the runesticks and learned my fate.'

'What did you learn?'

'I am to have two sons and a daughter.'

'Good.' I said.

'They will be your sons,' she said defiantly, 'and your daughter.'

For a moment I did not speak. The night suddenly seemed fragile. 'The runesticks told you
that?' I managed to say after a few heartbeats. They have never lied,' she said calmly.
'When Guthred was taken captive the runesticks told me he would come back, and they told me my
husband would arrive with him. And you came.'

'But he wants you to be a peace cow.' I said.

Then you must carry me off.' she said, 'in the old way.' The old Danish way of taking a
bride was to kidnap her, to raid her household and snatch her from her family and carry her
off to marriage. It is still done occasionally, but in these softer days the raid usually
follows formal negotiations and the bride has time to pack her belongings before the
horsemen come.

'I will carry you off.' I promised her, and I knew I was making trouble, and that Hild had
done nothing to deserve the trouble, and that Guthred would feel betrayed, but even so I
tipped Gisela's face up and kissed her. She clung to me and then the shouting started. I held
Gisela tight and listened. The shouts were from the camp and I could see, through the trees,
folk running past fires towards the road.

'Trouble.' I said, and I seized her hand and ran with her to the monastery where Clapa and
the guards had drawn swords. I Pushed Gisela towards the door and drew Serpent-Breath.

But there was no trouble. Not for us. The newcomers, attracted by the light of our
campfires, were three men, one of them badly

wounded, and they brought news. Within an hour the monastery's small church blazed with fire
and the priests and monks were Singing God's praises, and the message the three men had brought
from the north went all through our camp so that newly-woken folk came to the monastery to
hear the news again and to be assured that it was true.

'God works miracles!' Hrothweard shouted at the crowd. He had used a ladder to climb onto
the monastery roof. It was dark, but some people had brought flaming torches and in their
light Hrothweard looked huge. He raised his arms so that the crowd fell silent. He let them wait
as he stared down at their upturned faces, and from behind him came the solemn chanting of the
monks, and somewhere in the night an owl called, and Hrothweard clenched his fists and reached
higher still as though he could touch heaven in the moonlight. 'Ivarr is defeated!' he
finally shouted. 'Praise God and the saints, the tyrant Ivarr Ivarson is defeated! He has
lost his army!'

And the people of Haliwerfolkland, who had feared to fight the mighty Ivarr, cheered
themselves hoarse because the biggest obstacle to Guthred's rule in Northumbria had been
swept away. He could truly call himself king at last and so he was. King Guthred.

Chapter Four

There had been a battle, we heard, a slaughter battle, a fight of horror in which a dale
had reeked of blood, and Ivarr Ivarson, the most powerful Dane of Northumbria, had been
defeated by Aed of Scotland.

The killing on both sides had been awesome. We heard more about the fight next morning when
nearly sixty new survivors arrived. They had travelled in a band large enough to be spared
Kjartan's attention, and they were still reeling from the butcher's work they had endured.
Ivarr, we learned, had been lured across a river and into a valley where he believed Aed had
taken refuge, but it was a trap. The hills on either side of the valley were thick with
tribesmen who came howling through the mist and heather to hack into the Danish shield walls.
There were thousands of them,' one man said and he was still shaking as he spoke.

BOOK: The Lords of the North
3.51Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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