Cynwit

                                                                                          

The small boat slid silently through the narrow channel between the reed beds.

‘Cheer up Father, it could be worse,’ said Edgar.

 I looked around me, not that I could see much. The damp grey mist that covered the swamp had reduced visibility to a few yards and I wondered, not for the first time, how Eadulf would find his way through the maze of channels that wove through the great swamp that surrounded Athelney. There were two of us in the small boat besides Eadulf the eel fisher who was ferrying us to the coast, Earldorman Edgar, and myself, Brother Osbert.

‘It’s brother, a monk is called brother, not father, I said

Edgar was forever calling me father; still, it was better than priest.

‘Sorry Father,’

I sighed; it was a waste of time. ‘God will see us through.’

‘Aye, maybe,’ he said.

Earldorman Edgar was Alfred’s sworn man and a Christian, but like many he hadn’t quite put aside the older religion, and I knew that the maybe, was aimed at God, not the task ahead.

We had been sent by our lord, King Alfred of Wessex to find Ubbe Ragnarsson and if successful we were to help the local fyrd send him packing. Two men, one an Earldorman, the other, a slightly overweight one-time warrior, who had found God and was now King Alfred’s chief spymaster. We were to help a force, the majority of which would be farmers, take down a Viking army filled with seasoned warriors. Yet I believed what I said, God would see us through. God, plus a strong sword arm and a good solid shield wall.

Ubbe, brother to Halfdan and Ivar the boneless, had set sail at the head a fleet of twenty-three ships of the Danish fleet and when last heard of was raiding the Somerset coast with a force of twelve hundred men. But he had disappeared and I suspected that he was on his way to a landing on Devonshire’s northern coast. I prayed to God that I was wrong, because if what I suspected were true, it would place him behind King Alfred at the worst possible moment.

After the Danish army lead by Guthrum had made a surprise attack on Chippenham during yuletide, Alfred and a few followers, which included Edgar and myself, had taken refuge on one of the islands in the swamp. Now Alfred was busy building a fort and sending out for recruits to an army that would drive the Danish scourge from his Saxon kingdom. With no warriors to spare he needed the good Earldormen of Devon to handle this new Viking threat at his back, hence our journey.

By midday a pale winter sun shone through the mist extending the visibility from a couple of yards to a score. Though beyond that distance the mist still wrapped the swamp in a white shroud that muted all sound. We were in the main channel that would lead us eventually into the river that threaded its way to the coast. Though as we were to find out as we travelled further west, it was not so much that the swamp led into the river, but that the river was the swamp. For while the channel did get a little wider, it twisted and turned around small raised clumps of land and reed beds for nearly the full length of its journey to the sea.

Edgar seemed preoccupied and had little to say and Eadulf who spoke little in any case, was silent. I wrapped my cloak tight around me; drifted off with the soft drip and splash of the paddle in my ear and dreamt. It was the dream I had most nights. The lone ship with the wolf head on the raised stem slides, from the dawn mist and runs aground on the shingle. Great bearded men leap from the ship and race to the just awakening village. They kill, rape, and burn their way through the village, until they reach the hall of the local lord, where a handful of men led by my brother tries to protect my lady Osburgh and my six-year old son Osberth. My brother and his men are butchered; my wife dragged away screaming and my son is felled as he tries to run to his mother.

And where was I when my family was being destroyed? I was on a hunt. I had taken twenty men and leaving the village before dawn, had gone hunting. Not that we caught anything that day. We had gone no more than three or four miles and had yet to reached the hunting ground, when something made me look back and I saw the smoke rising above the trees. We turned the horses and raced back. We were too late to save the village. But we caught the Vikings as they were launching their ship.

Half of them were already on board, I drove my horse through the surf straight for the ship and the others followed. A few more of the Vikings scrambled aboard and the rest turned to meet our charge. They didn’t stand a chance, they were hampered by the waist high water and we hacked down and slaughtered them where they stood. I took the head from the last man and rode for the ship. It was backing away from the shore and I would have made it if the axe thrown by their leader, a red bearded giant with a wolf head in his helmet, had not killed my horse. One minute I was charging forward, the next I had been thrown clear of my thrashing horse and was underwater lying on my back with the weight of my chain mail holding me down. I thought I would die. But somehow I managed to get to my knees and force my head above the surface in time to see the wolf ship sail away.

Struggling to my feet, I stood with the others and watched until the beast ship disappeared out to sea, then sent one man to the headland to make sure they were gone. Not that I thought they would return after being taught such a bloody lesson, but it pays to be sure when dealing with Viking raiders. Then we returned to the village to see who had survived – there were always some survivors after such raids, generally women and children who escaped into the forest and hid. The dead, most of them old men, lay scattered about the main street, some of them struck down from behind as they ran, and it was not until I neared the still burning remains my hall that I saw my son. He lay curled on the ground near to the body of his uncle and I would have thought him asleep, except I could see where the back of his head had been crushed.

I cradled him in my arms, sat next to the body of my brother and hoped that my wife was amongst the survivors. It was a vain hope, only two of the women in the handful that returned could remember seeing my wife. One said that she had broken free and escaped into the forest, while the other swore that she had been dragged screaming onto the wolf ship. Either way, she was gone and I never did see her again.

I searched the forest for a week, buried my son and my brother and dug up my cache from under the hearth. After giving a third of it to the survivors I rode north, towards Gyruum on the Tine. With me were half dozen men who had also lost all. We rode in search of Vikings to kill and we must have slaughtered hundreds over the years. But never once did I find the red bearded giant and the wolf ship I sought. In the end, as I grew older, the battle rage faded and I found solace with the Christian God.

I felt a bump as the boat grounded and came awake to find Edgar’s hand clamped over my mouth. The mist that still clung the lower parts of the swamp had cleared over the higher ground and a party of Danes sat on their horses not five hundred yards away. Alerted by the sound of their voices Eadulf had steered into a reed bed surrounding a small island and while we could see them it was obvious that they could not see us. There were a dozen of them and they were Guthrum’s men probing the swamp, looking for a way to get to Alfred. But the swamp was tidal, a path that was dry one minute, would be under water the next and without a guide it was easy to die. It was late afternoon when they decided to move on and I for one gave a sigh of relief. I had not been looking forward to spending the night cold and hungry in a small cramped boat, while the enemy sat above us, swapping stories round a campfire.

Once they had gone Eadulf backed the boat out of the reeds, moved on and when the light began to fade, beached the boat on the muddy bank of a small island. It was a dank and miserable place, but we found enough dry wood to built a fire and sat around it to eat. Not that we had much, a bit of cold duck that was good and some eels that weren’t. To be honest there was I suppose, nothing wrong with the eels but after a few weeks eating eels for just about every meal, I wouldn’t have cared if I never saw one again.

‘You going to eat those, Father?’ asked Edgar pointing to the eels.

I handed them over, watched as he delicately nibbled off the flesh then sucked the bones and I smiled. I have known Edgar for a few years now and in all time, despite eating everything put before him, I have never seen him put on an ounce of fat, But then he is young, only twenty-five and he is strong, He has a reputation for violence in battle and it is deserved. I have seen him take on three men at once and come out covered in blood with a grin on his face. He is a hard man, has had to be, for as Alfred’s sworn man he has led his own sworn men into battle for the best part of his life. Yet I have seen the other side of him, the honesty, the loyalty and the friendship freely given. If you are befriended by Edgar and accept it, as I have, that friendship will be yours for the rest of your days.

We were up at first light and after a cold breakfast of oatcakes, set off once more. It was cold and overcast, with little wind, the kind of day when you can smell the rain to come. As it happens the rain didn’t come until mid afternoon and only lasted an hour before fizzling out leaving us damp and miserable. The swamp ended a mile from the river mouth and Eadulf dropped us on the shore, before moving back into the reed beds to await our return.

‘Come on, Father, let’s get going, I need to warm up,’ called Edgar as he strode off,

I strapped on my sword, Blood Bringer has taken more Danes than I care to think of and in Saxon Wessex even Bishops lead men into battle.

‘Brother,’ I said when I caught up with him.

He just laughed, clapped me on the shoulder and said, ‘we’ll be there in an hour, Father. How good is the Earldorman?’

‘Odda? He’s good, fought in a dozen shield walls that know of and never been beaten in battle.’

‘Then why does he need us?’

‘He obviously thinks he doesn’t, he hasn’t asked for any help.’

‘In that case, why on earth has Alfred sent us?’

‘Because he feels and I agree with him, that while Odda will be able to match the Danes man for man, there is still some doubt about the outcome and if they fail, Alfred needs to know as soon as possible.’

‘Are we to be only observers then?’ asked Edgar, the disappointment plain in his voice.

‘Alfred’s orders were clear, he said, that we were to return with the outcome within two days of the battle, nothing was said of taking part.’

‘In that case, Father, let’s get on; we’ve a battle to join.’

We reached Cynwit and found it a hive of activity The squat, ruddy faced figure of Earldorman Odda stood forward of the shield wall set across the open eastern end of the hill fort. He and several of the other thanes were watching the Danes who must have arrived earlier and having finished disembarking from their ships were busy setting up camp for the night. Leaving the front line of his shield wall in place Obba dismissed the rest of men to set up camp and came to greet us.

‘What Ho, Osbert or should I say Brother? How is King Alfred? Still bending his knee to the Lord, morning and night?’

My Lord King Alfred’s whole hearted embracement of Christianity was well known so there was little I could say but, ‘He is and he still does, Lord.’

Odda smiled, I suspect at the use of the honorific, since we had fought side by side in many a shield wall over the years and turned to Edgar and said, ‘Welcome, we have not met, but never the less, I know who you are, Earldorman Edgar, your reputation precedes you and I have need of every experienced warrior I can get.’

Edgar, looked uncomfortable at such praise, but I could tell he was pleased, He was a proud young warrior and being recognised by his reputation alone had to be a source of great pride,

‘Thank you Earldorman, I have grown up hearing songs of your great prowess in battle,’ said Edgar.

For someone who’d had to ask me of Obba not an hour ago, the honeyed words slid off his tongue like an wetstone across a blade and I found I had seriously underestimated my young friend. Not only was he as I described him earlier, I now found that he could be diplomatic too.

‘Aye that’s as maybe,’ said Odda, ‘Now that the niceties are out of the way, why don’t you and Osbert find a place by my fire, while stand down the shield wall and order the guards to be set. I doubt the Danes will bother us until tomorrow and maybe not even then.’

It took us a while to find one campfire out of the eighty within the fort and by the time we did, Odda was already there and a meal had been prepared. No one had much to say during the meal and it was Edgar who spoke first after it was done.

‘My Lord,’ he began.

But Odda raised his hand and said, ‘Odda.’

Edgar began again, ‘Odda, you implied earlier that the Danes might not bother you tomorrow, how so?’

‘The Danes are at a disadvantage because we hold the high ground and if they come against us they will lose a lot of men. Which is to our advantage, but what the Danes don’t know yet is that there is no water supply within the fort. But at some point they are sure to find out and when they do they will simply wait until the thirst forces us to surrender or die.’

The lack of water was an unseen blow, at least for me, but knowing Odda as I did, I knew he would have something in mind.

I take it My Lord, ‘I said,’ that you have a plan in mind.’

‘Aye, and a straightforward one at that, we will charge downhill at first light, before have time rub the sleep from their eyes and slaughter the heathen as they rise.’

It was a simple plan and one that held much merit. While the Danes were unaware of the lack of water within the fort, they would expect the fyrd to fight a defensive battle and the last thing on their minds would be a full frontal attack on their camp.

Edgar and I had been granted the honour of leading the charge alongside the Earldorman and we waited in the dark before a dawn that would be slow in coming, for the clouds blown by a northeast wind had filled the sky and the day would be a dull and grey one. We were armed, ready and sat in silence alongside Odda waiting for him to give the order to move. After what seemed to be an hour, but could not have been, since it was still dark, he gave a nod and word was passed in whispers to the waiting men, another nod and the men rose to their feet. Odda held his sword aloft, the signal was passed down the line and fyrd began to move. At first we walked in silence or as near to silence as twelve hundred armed men on the move could and were halfway to the Danish camp before the first calls of alarm rang out.

That was when we began to run and as we ran we screamed our battles cries and burst amongst them. The Danes sprang from their beds fully armed, but they were in disarray and we must have killed a third of their number before they had time to come fully awake. It didn’t however take long for the others to recover and soon the camp was filled with a melee of fighting men. A bearded, broken nosed, giant rammed his shield into mine; I was knocked to my knees and grimaced as his axe swept down. But by Gods will, I managed to raise my shield and as the axe bit into it, I stabbed upwards into his groin and took him in the throat as he fell. Grabbing his shield I staggered to my feet just in time to jump back as a screaming Dane lunged at me with a spear. I batted the spear to one side with my shield and rammed Blood Bringer into his open mouth. His eyes went wide and when I withdrew the sword he stood choking the blood gushing from his mouth, before crumpling to the ground.

Then may God forgive me, I did what I promised myself never to do again, I lost all control and killed again and again until Blood Bringer and my sword arm were slick with blood and no more Danes came at me. Head bowed, I stood panting like a dog, until my heartbeat slowed and I calmed enough to take in my surrounding once more. Eventually I raised my head to find that while the battle was won there was still some mopping up going on. Down by the shore the Danes were racing back to their ships with fyrd in pursuit, while at the far side of the camp I could see the raven banner of Ubbe in the midst a group of Danes who had locked shields and were now surround by Odda and his men.

Stooping down I wiped Blood Bringer on a dead Danes cloak, straightened, sheathed the sword and wandered slowly over towards the beleaguered Danes. There was no hurry, they weren’t going anywhere but straight to hell. I was halfway there when Odda’s men burst the group apart and the slaughter began. The Danes fought bravely but were cut down one by one until the only man standing was a great bearded giant who held Ubbe’s raven banner in one hand while he hacked down men with a great axe that he held in the other. I stood and stared there was something about him that seemed familiar. But it wasn’t until he turned and I saw the wolf head helm and the red beard now streaked with grey that I recognised him as the man I had spent half my life searching for. It was the wolf ship leader, the man who had killed my son and stolen my wife away.

I began to run then, and as I ran I screamed over and over again, ‘Leave him, he’s mine, don’t kill the bastard.’

He was still on his feet when I bulled my way to the front of the crowd and he stood in the centre of a circle he had cleared with his axe. No one seemed keen to be first to face the great scything blade, save Odda, who had put away his sword and was circling the giant with a broad bladed boar spear in his hands. I roared at him, ‘leave the bastard, he’s mine.’

Odda shook his head and continued to circle, he was after the banner, the capture of a Danish banner would be sung of in all the great halls and the man that captured the banner would secure a place in history. I didn’t want the banner, I wanted to kill the wolf man, but not until I had first wounded him and then forced him to tell me whereabouts of my wife.

‘Odda,’ I shouted, ‘Let me take him, you can take the banner.’

Odda didn’t reply, but he did step back three paces, as did the rest of his men and I was left on my own. The Dane finding himself facing an armed monk frowned and when our eyes met there was no sign of recognition only puzzlement, no matter, he would remember by the time I was through with him. I had it all mapped out in my mind, I couldn’t fail and brains will always win over brawn. But things don’t always go the way that you planned. As the wolf man attacked and his concentration centred on me, Odda took him from the side with the boar spear and he was dead by the time he hit the ground.

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