Uhtred the Bold Read online

  ‘Yes, I can see that the Scots wouldn’t want Vikings on their southern border,’ he mused. ‘Especially as they aren’t likely to stop there. I need to sleep on this,’

  He didn’t say anything else for the rest of the meal and I chatted to my mother and my nine year old brother, Eadwulf, who wanted to know all about the fight with the Norse patrol.

  As my father got up to leave he turned to me and said something that was totally unexpected.

  ‘You seem to have done well, Uhtred. But I think I’d better go and see Kenneth myself. You take charge of the muster and get everyone to move up to Falkirk. It will be easier for the Scots to join us there and for us to intercept the Norse army, using it as a base. Send Ulfric and five others to monitor the movements of the enemy so that we know where they are when the time comes.’

  I was staggered that my father was effectively putting me in command of the Bernician army. For a moment I was suspicious. After all I was only fourteen and I would have expected him to put one of the ealdormen in command, but I was so pleased that I quickly forgot my concerns.

  Then another thought flitted across my mind. Without Ulfric, I had no one who could translate my instructions to Borg. It seemed that we would have to learn each other’s language if he was to be of any use to me.

  Chapter Two – The Muster at Falkirk

  August 985

  As I rode along the south bank of the Firth of Forth the sun was sinking in the west and its dying rays blinded me. As dusk turned into night I could just make out the myriad points of light twinkling ahead of me that had to be the camp fires of my father’s army. We were now entering the westernmost area of Lothian, some fifteen miles from the Scottish stronghold of Stirling.

  The land to the west of the cliff on which Stirling stood was a boggy plain with the apt name of Drip Moss. To the west, and north of the River Forth, lay the Kingdom of Strathclyde.

  Strathclyde also claimed the area south of the river as far as the beginning of the estuary – the Firth of Forth. Where exactly the river ended and the forth began had been a matter of dispute for hundreds of years and the border had moved back and forth over that time.

  In recent times the westernmost point of Lothian had been taken as the mouth of the River Carron. A little way upstream a wooden bridge crossed the Carron and several centuries ago a king of Northumbria had built a small fort there to defend the bridge. A settlement had grown up to the east of the fort and now it had expanded into a sizeable town called Falkirk, named after the multi-coloured stones which had been used to build the Church.

  The army of Bernicia was mustering around the town and, judging by the number of campfires, it probably numbered about a thousand so far. I suspected that this was mainly the thanes, household warriors and fyrd of Lothian. The contingents from Bernicia proper had much further to come. My escort and I had taken three days to get there but the rest of our men would be coming on foot and that would take perhaps three times as long.

  I was too weary to do much that night except eat the food that Borg had prepared and sink into a deep sleep. I awoke the next morning to the sound of rain pelting down on the roof of my leather tent.

  Shortly after dawn Borg brought me a bowl of pottage for my breakfast. He scowled at me and went to get clean, dry clothes out of an oiled leather sack. He did what was required of him, but with ill grace. Communication was still a problem, but he had learnt a few words of English and I had picked up a few in Norse. Coupled with hand gestures and demonstrations, we got by.

  My companions didn’t trust him, of course. As far as they were concerned he was the enemy. However, he had given me his oath and I was confident that he wouldn’t break it. Honour was more important to Borg than his life.

  I ate the vegetable pottage and dressed before sending for the ealdormen. So far those from Edinburgh, Dunbar and Selkirk, the three shires into which Lothian was divided, had arrived. They were all veteran warriors in their thirties or forties and, although I had met them when I had accompanied my father on several of his regular tours of Lothian as a boy, I didn’t know them well, and they didn’t know me. Now I was called on to lead them as a boy of fourteen. I was large for my age with a slightly darker complexion that more Anglo-Saxons – a characteristic of all of my family – but my beard had yet to put in any sort of appearance and my voice was still at the stage when it suddenly changed from the treble of a young boy to a more manly pitch and back again. To say that I was apprehensive as they filed into the cramped space inside my tent would be an understatement.

  ‘My lords, thank you for coming,’ I began nervously.

  I spotted the look of contempt that two of them exchanged and anger replaced my anxiety.

  ‘You may not like being ordered what to do by me,’ I told them, ‘but I am the earl’s eldest son and you owe me the same obedience and respect as you owe him.’

  ‘Respect has to be earned, boy,’ Osmond, the ealdorman of Edinburgh said with a sneer. ‘What have you ever done that entitles you to lead men?’

  ‘He has killed a Norse jarl in one to one combat, can you say the same Osmond?’ a voice said from the tent entrance and Ulfric entered, shaking the excess water from his cloak.

  He pointed at Borg, who came forward to take the cloak from him.

  ‘His father was a bigger man that any of you three and, not only did Lord Uhtred kill him, but it was his plan which ensured that we wiped out a patrol that outnumbered us and all without loss. I doubt that any of you could have achieved that.’

  The other three men looked affronted by Ulfric’s lecture; after all they ranked only second to the earl in our hierarchy and Ulfric was no more than a household warrior, but he had a fearsome reputation and they held their tongues.

  ‘You’ve come back with news of the enemy host, I assume, Ulfric.’

  ‘Yes, lord.’

  It was the first time he had called me that. I knew it was because of the three ealdormen but it felt good all the same.

  ‘They have moved north, out of the Tyne Valley, to a place called Bellingham on the North Tyne. From there I believe that they are likely to move on to Otterburn and then over the Cheviots to Jedburgh. I have left the others to shadow them but I thought you should know where they are.’

  ‘Thank you Ulfric. Ask Borg to fetch you some pottage and get some rest before you return. From Jedburgh I would expect them to either move north-east to the Tweed valley and the coast, or north-west towards Edinburgh. Whichever route they choose we are in the wrong place here.’

  ‘But we must stay here. It’s where the Bernicians have been told to muster and it’s where the Scots will come,’ Osmond objected.

  ‘I’ll send messengers to meet the contingents from Bernicia and I’ll leave a few men here to tell the earl where we have moved to.’

  ‘And is my town to be the new camp?’ Osmond asked.

  I thought for a moment.

  ‘No, we don’t want to be trapped against the Firth of Forth,’ I said. ‘We’ll muster at Penicuik in the Pentland Hills. I’ll send a messenger to find my father and let him know.’

  ~~~

  Penicuik was a small village on the banks of the northern branch of the River Esk. The latter would provide water for the camp and it was close enough to the Pentland Hills for us to retreat into if the Norse army arrived before the Scots did – always assuming that my father could persuade King Kenneth to join us, of course.

  Over the next few days the weather improved and the men managed to get everything dried out in the heat of the late July sun. The contingents from Bernicia slowly arrived over the same period and, by the time that the thanes and fyrd from Durham arrived I was commanding a host of two thousand three hundred men.

  At the end of the week two of Ulfric’s scouts arrived to report that the Vikings had sacked Jedburgh and Melrose. They were now camped on the banks of the River Tweed. The question was, would they move westwards, or east towards Berwick and the coast?

  They did neither. T
hree days later Ulfric arrived to say that they were advancing north along the valley of Eddleston Water towards Edinburgh. Penicuik lay right in their path and I began to worry where my father was. If he didn’t arrive with the Scots in the next few days I would be faced with a stark choice: face the Norsemen with the army I had, or retreat into the Pentlands and hide.

  The former meant almost certain defeat as I had only a third of the number of experienced warriors that the enemy had and I couldn’t rely on the fyrd standing against the fierce heathens. On the other hand the latter option, although preserving the army for now, would be seen by everyone as a defeat without a blow being struck. Morale would plummet and, in any case, my pride wouldn’t allow me to make that choice.

  I spent a sleepless night, tossing and turning as I tried to imagine what my father would do. In the end I didn’t have make any decisions. Just after noon one of the outlying pickets rode in with the news that a great host was advancing from the west. My father had come and he had brought Kenneth’s cousin, Malcolm Forranach, and over two thousand wild Scotsmen with him.

  ~~~

  Osmond was furious, as were most of our people. In exchange for Kenneth’s help Waltheof had agreed to hand over the shire of Edinburgh with its stronghold to him. This would give the Scots a substantial foothold south of the Forth and, as far as I could see, it would be the first step to losing the whole of Lothian to them. The firth was a natural obstacle which provided us with a clearly defined border. The River Tweed was the next obstacle to the south and, once the Scots had their foot in the door, there was little to prevent them from expanding their territory until they reached it.

  My father refused to listen to our objections, however. He had given his word and that was that. Of course, he realised the implications, but he seemed to think that, once the Vikings had been defeated, then we could retake Edinburgh at some stage in the future.

  When I pointed out that no one had ever captured Edinburgh since the Angles of Bernicia had defeated the native Britons – the Goddodin – over three hundred years ago he roared at me to get out of his sight before he hit me.

  Word of our argument spread, of course, and Osmond derided me openly now that I no longer had my father’s favour. I had thought that the man would have supported me as I was trying to keep his shire from falling into Scottish hands. Then Feran told me that Osmond had been seen coming and going from the Scottish camp. It seemed that he and Malcolm had done a deal whereby Osmond would become the Mormaer of Edinburgh once he’d sworn allegiance to the King of Scots. For Osmond it meant that he would retain what he had now and for the Scots it gave them a bridgehead in Lothian

  However, that was a problem for the future. The Vikings were now only one day’s march away and I went to join the war council which would advise my father on possible tactics for the coming battle.

  When I entered the small church in Falkirk I found the ealdormen, a few of the most important thanes and my father’s senior warriors already there. Just after I’d entered I was pushed out of the way by a large man with a bushy ginger beard who was wearing little other than a saffron tunic and a leather belt from which was suspended a sword with an ornate hilt. He was followed by Malcolm and twenty Scottish nobles, both mormaers and thanes. Mormaers was their equivalent title for earl and I’d heard that the mormaers of Athol, Fife and Strathearn had come with Malcolm.

  I was surprised that the Mormaer of Gowrie, in which St. John’s Town of Perth lay, wasn’t present with his men but I later learned that Kenneth had kept him by his side. The Mormaer of Moray, the region adjacent to Gowrie, was one of those who was in dispute with Kenneth over the throne.

  My father and Malcolm embraced and the Scottish leader introduced the hulking red headed brute who had barged me out of the way as his cousin, Drest, and his right hand man.

  ‘Uhtred,’

  I heard my name called with surprise. I had expected my father to still be angry with me, but his face was wreathed in smiles.

  ‘Come here lad.’

  I saw him beckoning me and men moved out of my way as I went forward to join the party in front of the altar.

  ‘This is my son, Uhtred, who had the distinction of drawing first blood against the heathen Vikings. He killed a jarl and his men, almost single handed from what I hear.’

  At first I basked in my father’s praise but it was a gross exaggeration. I frowned as I saw the incredulity on the faces of the two Scots. He’d made me look a boastful fool, but if I contradicted him in front of everyone he would never forgive me.

  ‘Father, you give me too much credit. True the plan was mine and I did kill the jarl in single combat, but Ulfric and the half a dozen men with me also deserve your praise for killing the other Vikings.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ my father said, continuing to smile, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  The Scots still looked unconvinced that a stripling like me, who scarcely came up to Drest’s shoulder, could kill a Norse jarl in fair fight, but at least the tale was now more credible.

  ‘What are your suggestions for tomorrow, Earl Waltheof?’ Malcolm asked, bringing our attention back to the matter in hand.

  I was thankful that I was no longer the centre of attention, but then my father thrust me back into the limelight once more.

  ‘I would like to hear what my son thinks. After all he devised the plan that enabled him to wipe out the Norse patrol without losing a man, even though they outnumbered him.’

  I think that it was then that it finally sunk in that my father wasn’t doing this out of pride in me. Ulfric had been too fulsome in his praise and it had evidently irritated my father. Perhaps he thought that I was too pleased with myself and needed to be put in my place. Certainly it seemed that he wanted to belittle me in front of the Scots and, more importantly, the ealdormen and thanes on whose support I would have to rely when he was gone. I couldn’t let that happen and so I had to come up with something quickly.

  ‘Well, this is only an outline suggestion which needs refining,’ I began, more to gain thinking time than anything. ‘Olaf Tryggvason, the leader of the Norse army, believes that he is faced just by the Earl of Bernicia. Let’s not disabuse him of that idea. Furthermore, the Norse are used to fighting in the shield wall. They are not used to facing a charge by horsemen. I suggest that we find a suitable killing ground where we can ambush these Norse invaders and teach them a lesson that they won’t forget in a hurry.

  ‘We don’t need to merely defeat them, we need to annihilate them to teach them to keep well away from Northumbria, and Scotland too, of course,’ I added hastily.

  ‘That’s all very laudable, but it isn’t a plan,’ Drest said with a sneer.

  ‘I’m coming to that,’ I replied looking him in the eye and trying to convince myself that he didn’t intimidate me. ‘We need to find a small valley in which to hide so that the Norse think that their advance is blocked by the army of Northumbria on its own. They need to believe that an easy victory awaits them when they see that the majority of our warriors are members of the fyrd.’

  I went on to explain the rest of my plan and, much to my astonishment, my idea was adopted after various nobles on both sides had tried and failed to find flaws in it. After that my father and I rode out with Malcolm and Drest to find a suitable location for the coming battle.

  Father seemed pleased with the plan once we had settled the final details and I forgot about my earlier suspicions. It was nearly dusk by the time that we rode back to camp to grab a bite to eat and brief the other leaders. I spent another sleepless night wondering what on earth had possessed men who should know better to put their trust in a strategy dreamt up by a lad of fourteen.

  Chapter Three – The Battle of Penicuik

  August 985

  Borg seemed even more surly than ever when he helped me into my byrnie, but that was probably because he knew that we were about to fight his people. As I left my tent the sun was in my eyes as it emerged over the distant skyline that was
the Lammermuir Hills. Borg had my horse ready and I rode out of camp at the head of my father’s fifty mounted warriors.

  He had been opposed to entrusting me with the most important part of the plan, no doubt fearing I would earn more glory for myself but, to my surprise, Prince Malcolm was insistent that the task should be entrusted to me.

  Ulfric rode to one side of me and Leland, the captain of my father’s household warriors, rode on the other. In the row behind us Borg carried the Wolf banner of Bebbanburg. He had been pleased and managed to shake off his surly mood when I gave him the honour of carrying it, but my real reason for taking him along was because I worried that, despite his oath, he might sneak away and warn Olaf. I doubt that he knew our plans, but I wasn’t prepared to take that risk.

  I had allowed him to wear his armour but I had replaced his Norse helmet with an Anglo-Saxon pattern one. I hadn’t allowed him to carry a weapon so, of course, he was defenceless. However, it wasn’t part of our plan to enter into a melee, so he should be safe enough. If not, well then, he was expendable.

  We rode out of camp and headed due west, up onto the slope of Carnethy Hill. From there we watched as the rest of our combined forces marched north east. After an hour the head of the column changed direction and headed up the steep valley between the two hills which the locals called Castlelaw and Caerketton. At the head of the valley lay two more hills, Capelaw and Allermuir and it was on the col joining the two hills that my father would take up his position. The Scots would form up on the reverse slope of Caerketton Hill and wait until the right moment.

  My horsemen had two tasks. They sounded simple but the whole plan depended on the success of the first one and the decisive victory we needed might well depend on the timing of our second task.

  Just as the last of the Scots, who had less distance to cover and who were therefore at the rear of the column, disappeared up the valley the two scouts who I had sent to the summit of Caernethy Hill to the south west returned to say that the Norsemen were in sight.