Sons of the Raven Read online

  We sat near one of the hearths, not so much for the warmth it provided, but for the light. Normally the hall was illuminated by windows let into the stone walls. They were unglazed but covered in skins scraped down to a thin membrane to allow in a modicum of light whilst keeping out the wind and rain. However, such was the ferocity of the storm today that that the wooden shutters had been closed and bolted.

  ‘I hope father’s alright, out in this weather,’ my opponent muttered.

  I was glad that I was inside and not out riding, soaked to the skin and buffeted by the gale, but I had more sense than to say so.

  Ricsige’s father was Edmund, Ealdorman of Islandshire in the northern part of Northumbria. The hall where we sat was one of the few stone buildings in his fortress of Bebbanburg, which sat on the top of the sheer sided block of basalt rock on the shore of the German Ocean.

  When the door to the hall banged open we looked up to see Lord Edmund enter and we both sighed in relief. Edmund threw his sopping wet cloak to a slave, who took it over to dry by the other fire. Edmund was normally a man with an equable disposition, but it was obvious that he was in a rage over something today, and it was unlikely to be the foul weather.

  He was considered to be fair and honest, attributes not shared by all his fellow ealdormen. That didn’t stop him from being a talented military commander and it was his tactics that had defeated Ragnar Lodbrok and his Viking horde just three years previously.

  ‘Ricsige, come into my chamber. There’s something I need to discuss with you and your mother. You can come too, Drefan,’ he added, nodding towards me. ‘I know that Ricsige will tell you everything anyway.’

  It was true. Although there was five years between us, we were as close as brothers; in fact much closer than I was to my own brother, Hrothwulf.

  I had played my own small part in the defeat of Ragnar. From my vantage point, perched high in an oak tree, I had spotted two of the Viking leaders below me. I had drawn my bow and killed one, who turned out to be the legendary shield maiden Lagertha, and then put an arrow in Ragnar’s thigh. Afterwards King Ælle had thrown Ragnar into a pit of snakes.

  I was lauded for killing Lagertha and wounding King Ragnar and, as a reward Lord Edmund had made me his son’s companion and military tutor. It was a great honour, of course, but my brother had been jealous, not unnaturally I suppose as he was the elder, and it had driven us apart.

  He had become bitter, not just because of my good fortune. He’d been bitten by a viper on the day of the battle and, although a quick thinking monk had saved his life, his left leg had withered and this prevented him from becoming a warrior. Instead he’d become a monk in the monastery on the Isle of Lindisfarne just across the sea from Bebbanburg.

  Although Lindisfarne was called an island it was only cut off at high tide. When the sea receded it became a peninsula joined to the mainland by an expanse of sand.

  I’d been fifteen at the time of the battle and Ricsige had been ten, so my appointment had been in name only. I had to finish my own training as a warrior first and, in any case, Ricsige was sent away to Lindisfarne to join the novices for two years to study the scriptures and complete his education. During that time he’d made friends with Hrothwulf, who was a fellow novice, and he’d tried to reconcile the two of us – to no avail.

  Ricsige had returned a year ago and, apart from training with sword and shield and teaching him how to fight on horseback, I’d also begun to show him how to hunt with a bow.

  My father had been one of Edmund’s best scouts before he died last year and he’d passed his skills onto Hrothwulf and me when we were boys; now I did the same for Ricsige. He was an avid pupil and he had evidently inherited his father’s intelligence.

  I followed Edmund and his son into the screened-off family chamber at the end of the hall and waited by the door, slightly embarrassed as Burwena, Edmund’s wife, hugged and kissed him, thankful for his safe return. He’d been on a visit to Alric, the Ealdorman of Berwic, who governed the shire to the north of the River Twaid, and had obviously come back agitated about something. He gently disentangled himself from Burwena’s embrace, impatient to divulge what he’d found out.

  ‘That bloody man, Ælle,’ Edmund began, pacing up and down. ‘I forgave his conceit when he claimed to have been the victor against Ragnar Lodbrok, when we all know he didn’t turn up until the battle was over. I even accepted the way he chose to execute him; after all our enemy was a Viking and a pagan, but now he’s gone too far.’

  ‘What’s he done?’ Ricsige asked, his eyes wide. He’d never seen his father so angry, nor had I.

  ‘Alric told me that Ælle captured Loidis from Osberht three weeks ago. His brother escaped, so Ælle took his revenge out on the wretched inhabitants. He hanged the ealdorman and his whole family for supporting Osbehrt, and then he did the same to one in ten of the population, men women and children, to teach them a lesson. Well, the only thing they will have learnt is what a monster he is. Quite apart from being an atrocity that was totally unwarranted, they were Northumbrians and we need every man we have to fight the Vikings.’

  ‘The Vikings,’ his wife asked puzzled. ‘Surely they will stay well clear of Northumbria after Ragnar’s disastrous raid?’

  Edmund snorted in derision.

  ‘You’ll remember that I told you his last words were “the squealing of the piglets will deafen you when they hear of the death of the old boar?” Well, it seems that those same piglets are raising a vast army to come and avenge their father.’

  Burwena sat down on the bed that she and Edmund shared looking stunned. What complicated matters was the fact that their daughter, Osgern, had married King Ælle three years ago, two months after the battle with the Vikings outside Jarrow. No doubt the king thought that it was shrewd move to tie the most powerful ealdorman in the north to his side and, of course, Osgern had been dazzled by the thought of becoming a queen.

  Not so, Edmund; he was ambivalent about the match and had only agreed because to do otherwise would have put him firmly in Osbehrt’s camp. As the Witan had deposed Osberht and put the crown on his brother’s head, he would have risked falling out of favour once more. The last time that happened he’d been exiled to the Continent; he wasn’t about to risk that again.

  When his daughter had given birth to a son – Ædwulf - a year later, Edmund had warmed towards their union, but the atrocity at Loidis had tuned him against Ælle once more. However, the Viking menace made it imperative that he did what he could to unite the kingdom before it was too late.

  ‘What will you do?’ Burwena asked, gnawing at her lip in worry at the thought of an invasion by a pagan horde.

  ‘My duty is to patrol the coast, not that I could do much with my few ships if the rumour about the size of the army that Ragnar’s sons are recruiting are true; but the massacre of the unarmed inhabitants of Loidis will worsen the divisions within the kingdom and that leaves us very vulnerable. I shall just have to pray that they don’t arrive until I’ve had a chance to see Ælle and convince him that the course he’s embarked upon will just make him more enemies. I’ll leave for Eoforwīc in the morning.’

  ‘Can I come, father?’ Ricsige asked hopefully.

  ‘No, son. If anything happens to me you will succeed me and you must hold Bebbanburg against our enemies. I need you here. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes father,’ he said dejectedly.

  ‘You don’t want to interrupt your training with me, do you,’ I said in an attempt to cheer him up.

  I realised how trite and pathetic it sounded as soon as I’d said it, and the scornful look that the boy gave me confirmed that I’d been stupid.

  ‘Don’t patronise me. I’m not a little child anymore.’

  So saying, he got up and stalked out of the room.

  ‘I was going to take you with me as a member of my gesith,’ Edmund told me, ‘but I can see now that would just be rubbing salt into my son’s wounds.’

  I nodded and went back in
to the hall intending to apologise to Ricsige, but he wasn’t there. The board on which we’d been playing nine men’s morris had been knocked onto the floor, so presumably he’d kicked it on his way out. I went to follow him, but then reconsidered. It was probably wise to let him cool down for a while.

  I was worried about him though. The storm raging outside sounded as if it was getting worse and the gusts were probably strong enough to knock over a slightly built thirteen-year-old.

  In the end my concern for his safety forced me to go and look for him. He was nowhere to be found at first and I began to panic. By the time I’d thought of looking in the church I was soaked to the skin and exhausted from the buffeting of the wind. He was kneeling in front of the altar praying. Having confirmed that he was safe, I went back to the hall and changed into dry clothes, putting my wet tunic and trousers alongside Edmund’s cloak to dry.

  -℣-

  Ricsige wasn’t one to bear a grudge for long. He avoided me for the rest of that day, but came to find me the next morning, grinning and as cheerful as ever. If I’d offended him yesterday, he’d evidently forgotten it.

  ‘The storm’s passed, can we go riding?’

  ‘Very well, but this afternoon we return to training with sword and shield. You’ve much to learn before you’ll stop being a danger to yourself and others in the shield wall.’

  ‘I know. It takes years of training; or so you keep telling me,’ he said with a cheeky grin. ‘But it’s such a splendid morning I want to feel White Ghost under me and the wind in my hair.’

  White Ghost was the name he’d given to the beautiful little grey mare that his father had given him when he’d returned from Lindisfarne. I had a feeling that the real reason he wanted to be away from Bebbanburg that morning had little to do with riding. He didn’t want to be around when his father left for Eoforwīc. I realised then how badly he’d wanted to go with him.

  Ricsige was an adventurous boy who desired to see more of the world, other than Bebbanburg, Lindisfarne and the very occasional journey south to Alnwic with his parents. The hall at Alnwic was where the shire-reeve, a distant cousin called Godhelm, lived with his family.

  ‘Very well; where do you want to go this morning?’ I asked him as two stable lads brought our horses up to the hall.

  Evidently my pupil had already sent for them. I had no doubt that the boys were cursing us as they’d have been busy enough getting thirty riding horses and half a dozen packhorses ready for Edmund’s journey down to Eoforwīc. I thanked them and we mounted and headed for the main gate.

  ‘I’ve never been to Yeavering,’ Ricsige replied, catching me by surprise.

  I pulled my horse to a halt and looked at him in consternation.

  ‘But that’s over twenty miles away, and through the hills. It’s too far and too dangerous. There’s wolves, not to mention the odd outlaw. No, we’ll stick to the coast: north or south?’

  I saw that Ricsige had a mischievous glint in his eye and I groaned. I knew that look. It meant that he’d made up his mind. I was his tutor and theoretically that put me in charge, and he accepted that most of the time. On the odd occasion, however, he put his foot down and I knew from past experience that it was better to let him do what he wanted.

  ‘Very well, but on two conditions. We take two of the warband with us and we take some food. It will take all day to get there and back and I don’t intend to go hungry.’

  ‘Good idea. We’ll take Wigestan and Botulf.’

  I nodded, they were two of my friends and more dependable in a crisis than most, not that I anticipated any trouble, but I would rather have them with me than anyone else I knew.

  ‘I’ll go and let them know.’ I said, turning my horse around and heading back into the fortress. ‘Tell the stable boys we need two more good mounts. I’ll also tell Walden where we’re going.’

  Walden would be in charge of the garrison whilst Britric, the captain of Edmund’s warband, was away with his lord.

  The stable boys had been less than pleased when Ricsige commandeered two of the horses they’d already saddled for members of Edmund’s gesith, but they would never dare to gainsay the lord’s son. With a muttered curse two of them went to get another two horses ready for the warriors in the gesith. They had little to complain about really. There were two adult grooms and six boys to look after the seventy horses used by the Bebbanburg warband. It wasn’t an easy existence, but there were plenty whose lot in life was far worse.

  Walden looked dubious when I told him.

  ‘You’ll be lucky to get there and back before dark so don’t hang about, either on the journey or when you get there. Does the lady know?’

  He was referring to Burwena. I shook my head.

  ‘Better she doesn’t, she’ll only worry,’ I told him. ‘She’s overprotective of him. The boy’s more likely to die in battle than in his bed these days. He’d thirteen now; if he’s going to survive he’s got to learn to be a man.’

  Walden looked far from happy but he agreed to say nothing unless she asked. Then he’d just say that we were out riding. I hoped he didn’t get into trouble; I knew I would. Ricsige wouldn’t be able to contain his excitement when he returned and would tell his mother all about it. With a sigh I re-mounted my horse and the four of us rode out of the main gates just as those accompanying their lord were collecting their horses, ready to depart as soon as Edmund was ready.

  We turned to the west as soon as we were out of sight and a little later joined the track that ran from Bebbanburg to Yeavering. The latter had been the summer residence of the kings of Bernicia but it had been little used since Diera and the former kingdom of Rheged joined with Bernicia to become Northumbria several centuries before.

  Bebbanburg had been the winter residence in those days but, when the capital moved to Eoforwīc, Ricsige’s distant ancestor, Catinus, had become the lord of Bebbanburg. Initially it had remained a royal residence but it had been ages since any king of Northumbria had spent more than a night or two there. There was a king’s hall in the fortress, kept for his use, but it had stood empty for a long time now and was beginning to fall into disrepair. Edmund had even talked of tearing it down and using the building materials elsewhere.

  It was a pleasant day in late summer as the four young men rode through the hills to Yeavering. They saw little sign of habitation except for the odd flock of sheep up on the hillsides with a boy or an old man and their dogs looking after them. They caught a glimpse of a few deer but they were too far away to hunt. There was a gentle breeze and a few birds flew overheard. I felt contentment stealing over me.

  Suddenly we heard the flapping of wings and a strange hooting noise as a bevy of swans flew over the crest of a distant hill and continued on their flight to the north, presumably heading for the River Twaid.

  Ricsige was happier than I had ever seen him, but it didn’t last. When I calculated that we must be about halfway to our destination we emerged from one valley into another with a river running along it. Judging by the position of the sun, we were still heading in the right direction but I had no idea what the river was called.

  As we watered the horses and grabbed a bite of bread and cheese a man came riding towards us along the river. He was dressed in a red woollen tunic, blue trousers and a brown cloak edged in wolf fur. Although he had a sword strapped to his waist, he wore no armour. However, the five men trotting behind him wore leather jerkins and helmets. Each carried a spear and shield with both a sword and a seax strapped to their waists. Evidently the man was a noble of some sort and the men were his gesith.

  ‘Who are you and what are you doing on my land?’ the man barked at us, looking down from his horse.

  The men with him had taken up an aggressive stance and I held up my hand placatingly. However, Ricsige spoke before I had a chance to.

  ‘Your land? This is my father’s land. It is you who should explain what you’re doing here.’

  ‘The man, who had to be fifty years old if he was a day
, looked down at the boy who had spoken so disrespectfully to him and his face reddened in anger.

  ‘Why you cheeky little shit,’ the man bellowed and his warriors lowered their spears, looking for all the world as if there was nothing they would rather do than use them on us.

  Wigestan and Botulf went to draw their swords but I gestured for them to desist.

  ‘Wait,’ I commanded. ‘This is the ealdorman’s son, Ricsige. I don’t recognise you but I assume that you’re the local thegn.’

  ‘You assume correctly. Lord Edmund might be the ealdorman but he doesn’t own this land, I do. You need to teach this little runt some manners. If he were my son I’d soon beat the arrogance out of him and I’ll tell Edmund so the next time I see him.’

  ‘I’d like to see you try,’ the boy said, bristling with indignation.

  ‘Enough, Ricsige! You are just making matters worse.’

  I don’t think that I had ever raised my voice to the boy before and he wisely bit back whatever retort had come to his lips.

  ‘I’m sorry, my name is Drefan. I’m a member of Lord Edmund’s gesith and, for my sins, Ricsige’s tutor.’

  ‘Waernoth,’ the thegn grunted at me. ‘If you’re the boy’s tutor you’re not doing a very good job of it.’

  ‘Military tutor. It’s not my job to teach him manners.’

  ‘Perhaps it should be,’ he replied grimly before turning back to Ricsige.

  ‘I hope that your father lives to a ripe old age, boy. At the moment I’m not sure you deserve my loyalty, and an ealdorman, however high his opinion of himself, has no power or right to govern without his thegns and his people behind him.’

  We watched him go on his way and then Ricsige pulled me to one side, out of earshot of the other two.

  ‘He’s right isn’t he? I handled that badly. I should have ignored his boorishness and repaid his discourtesy towards me with smooth words.’