The Fall of the House of Æthelfrith Page 4

  Muster your horsemen and your fyrd and make all haste to Stirling.

  Ecgfrith,

  King of Northumbria and Bretwalda of the North

  ‘It’s a proud claim to have succeeded Oswiu as bretwalda but, by the sound of it, only Strathclyde and perhaps Dalriada recognise him as such,’ Alweo said after handing the letter to Catinus to read. ‘At least it sounds as if your brother is safe.’

  ‘Yes, but for how long once we invade?’

  ‘Hopefully he’ll have the sense to go back to Iona.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  Catinus was deeply troubled by this turn of events. Not only was he concerned for his brother but, if the Picts invaded, Lothian could be lost. The Britons who lived in what used to be called Goddodin had revolted against rule by the Angles in the past. If Lothian was lost it would bring a hostile frontier down as far as the Twaid, and that was only thirty or so miles north of Bebbanburg.

  As a reward for bringing him his brother’s head, Ecgfrith had given him the title to the fortress. Although it was his home, officially it had been a royal stronghold and Catinus was merely its custos. There had been nothing to stop the king installing another custos there at any time. It wouldn’t have affected his status as an ealdorman but he would have had to build a new home somewhere else on his lands. He hadn’t thought it likely in his lifetime, but it was far from certain that one of his sons would have become custos when he died. Now his son would inherit it and hold it in his own right.

  Uurad had also been rewarded. Ecgfrith had given him a silver arm ring and Catinus had done the same, as well as making him a member of his warband. He had been sorry to lose him as a body servant, especially as he’d got rid of his replacement within the first week. He was idle, sullen and had a habit of never being around when Catinus needed him. He’d ended up becoming a kitchen boy instead, a fate few would have envied.

  Now he had an orphan who Uurad had found for him. His name was Drefan, which meant trouble, but he was far from that. Catinus was dubious at first as the boy was only nine but he was eager to please and desperate to be his body servant as his mother had recently died, leaving him destitute. He had no idea who his father was.

  They set off the next day to return home. It was not the best of days, a chill wind blew from the east and occasionally it pelted them with near horizontal rain. The road was no more than a muddy track which the recent rain had turned into a quagmire. By the time that they camped that night at Warren’s Ford they were mud splattered, wet, tired and cold. Catinus was proud of his two sons. Eleven year old Alaric bore the discomfort stoically whilst his younger brother kept telling him that warriors had to suffer far worse hardship. Eventually Alaric’s patience with Osfrid wore thin and he dropped back to ride beside Drefan, who was leading two of the pack horses.

  ‘Do you like serving my father?’

  ‘Very much, and I’m not just saying that because you’re his son. He’s demanding but fair. Many masters are the former but few are the latter. He doesn’t treat me like a chattel either.’

  ‘A chattel?’

  ‘Yes, someone he owns. Will you be going to Lindisfarne soon?’ he asked, changing the subject.

  ‘Yes, in the autumn. I can’t wait to meet Brother Cuthbert.’

  ‘I thought that Eata was the abbot.’

  ‘He is, but it’s Cuthbert who is the healer and the prophet. He even saved the life of King Oswiu years ago.’

  Drefan was silent. Someone who could cure the sick and foretell the future sounded too incredible to be true. He didn’t say so though. People in Northumbria worshipped Cuthbert and he would be ostracised, if not worse, if he expressed any doubts.

  Catinus meanwhile was discussing the problem of replacing the reeve with Leoflaed. They had ridden a little ahead of the rest to avoid being overheard.

  ‘I could dispense with his services but I don’t like to leave you without support and I don’t have the time to find a new one before I leave for Stirling.’

  ‘So you don’t think I’m capable of managing without a man to help me?’

  ‘I didn’t mean that.’

  ‘I rather think you did. I’m also quite capable of finding a suitable replacement.’

  ‘But it’s my job to appoint the reeve!’

  This discussion wasn’t going the way either of them had intended. Catinus knew how capable Leoflaed was but he couldn’t believe that she would manage on her own without male support.

  ‘Fine; I’ll do without until you get back, but we’re not keeping that useless man in post until you do. I can assure you that I can cope quite well on my own.’

  They rode the rest of the way to the campsite in a silence that was far from companionable.

  ~~~

  Catinus arrived at Stirling with thirty mounted men and a hundred and twenty spearmen and archers. He and Leoflaed had maintained a slightly frosty relationship until the morning of his departure. When he awoke he turned to her and apologised and she burst into tears. After a bout of gentle love making he agreed that she should appoint the new reeve.

  He told the old one brusquely that he’d failed to live up to expectations and he was to be gone by the end of the day. By the time that the astonished man had thought to question his dismissal Catinus had mounted his horse and was heading towards the gates.

  He stopped beside Godwald, the aged warrior who now commanded the garrison and told him that he’d dismissed the reeve and he was to make sure that he’d left before the gates were shut at nightfall.

  As he rode down the hill and followed the road to the west he was honest enough to admit to himself that he’d taken the coward’s way out. He should have pointed out the reeve’s shortcomings to him before this; that way his dismissal wouldn’t have come as so much of a shock. He should have also given him more time to pack but he didn’t want Leoflaed to have to cope with a surly reeve after his departure.

  An hour after his small army had left the blue sky disappeared, replaced by ominously grey clouds and shortly after that the rain started. Strangely he welcomed the discomfort as penance for his reluctance to resolve the reeve situation properly.

  Ecgfrith hadn’t brought the nobles and warriors of Deira with him. He’d made his nine-year old brother, Ælfwine, Sub-king of Deira and left him under the guardianship of the Eorl of Elmet to defend the border with Mercia whilst he was away. The contingent from Rheged was also noticeable by its absence. The province was in turmoil by all accounts, fully expecting Ecgfrith to exact retribution for their support of Alchfrith.

  Many of those who had taken part in the abortive siege of Bebbanburg had already fled with their families to Hibernia, where they’d taken service with several of the petty kings that littered the island as mercenaries. This had left Rheged with little enough manpower to look after the livestock and the crops and raids by the men of Strathclyde had taken advantage of the situation. For the moment Ecgfrith was disinclined to take these raids up with Elfin, whose support he was trying to enlist against Drest and Bruide.

  ‘Catinus, I’m splitting your men up between Alweo, who’s in charge of my horsemen, and Redwald the Hereræswa, who’s in command of those on foot.’

  ‘What does that leave me to do, Cyning?’

  ‘I want you to go and see Elfin as you know each other well. He seems reluctant to join me and I want to know why. If he won’t commit himself, then you’re to ensure he stays neutral. I don’t want to find myself with an enemy at my back when I advance into Hyddir.’

  ‘I understand Cyning. I assume that I may take my gesith with me?’

  ‘Of course, although if you fail I can’t see that twenty or so men will save you from Elfin’s warband.’

  Catinus cautiously approached Dùn Breatainn along the north bank of the River Clyde. Besides Eadstan and his gesith he had only brought Drefan and four other boys to serve the members of his gesith. Their tents, cooking utensils and provisions were carried on four packhorses led by the servants. It had taken them t
wo days from Stirling, staying at the monastery founded by Saint Mungo near Glaschu overnight. No doubt the abbot had sent a messenger to Elfin to warn him of Catinus’ approach because he found a welcoming party awaiting him at Dùn Tochter, a small fort five miles from Dùn Breatainn at a point where the Clyde estuary narrowed to become the river.

  ‘It’s good to see you again Catinus; that is, if you come in peace?’

  ‘I do indeed Lulach. I’m pleased to see you too.’

  Lulach had been one of those who had captured Dùn Breatainn with him, Elfin and Lethlobar of Ulster when they’d killed the previous King of Strathclyde.

  The two men rode together under the pleasant afternoon sunshine and Catinus tried to ignore the incessant biting insects that swarmed around them now that there was no wind to blow them away.

  ‘This is a bad business; about Drest I mean. He seems intent on uniting the Picts into one nation. That’s not good news for us either.’

  ‘Hmmm, I’m not so sure that it’s Drest’s idea. I suspect that Bruide’s behind him pulling the strings.’

  ‘You think so? Well you know Bruide better than we do. The rumour is that he’s killed Morleo of Ardewr as well as your Eorl of Prydenn.’

  ‘I believe that to be more than rumour. Excluding Cait, which is too far north to bother much about, that means he now controls more of Pictland than Drest does.’

  When they arrived at Elfin’s fortress his gesith set about camping on the shore of the Clyde whilst Lulach escorted Catinus and Eadstan up to meet King Elfin.

  ‘Brenin, greetings,’ he said in the Brythonic language. ‘I rejoice at seeing you in good health. I come at the behest of King Ecgfrith. I suspect that Lulach has already briefed you on what I know about the current situation in the Land of the Picts so I won’t waste time on repeating it.’

  Elfin laughed. ‘You’ve become more of a diplomat since I last saw you, but you still don’t waste time on small talk.’

  Catinus frowned. ‘I’m a warrior not an envoy, though I seem to be used as one more and more. I assure you it is not of my seeking.’

  ‘No, perhaps not, but you make a good one. I hear that if you are denied what you ask for you just take it anyway. What did Ecgfrith do with his brother’s head by the way?’

  Catinus blushed. It seems the tale of Alchfrith’s death had even reached Elfin’s ears.

  ‘He buried it in the graveyard at Bebbanburg.’

  ‘At least part of him had a Christian burial then. I hear that Bruide fed the body to his dogs.’

  ‘Sometimes such stories are apocryphal but it sounds typical of Bruide; to vent his anger at being deprived of a valuable hostage in that way I mean.’

  ‘Quite. Now I assume that Ecgfrith didn’t send you all this way to discuss his late brother?’

  ‘No, Brenin. As you will have guessed, he intends to advance into Hyddir and Pobla and bring Drest to battle. He must be made to pay for his actions against us. He hopes that you may join him in this enterprise.’

  ‘And Dalriada too?’

  ‘I have no instructions about Dalriada.’

  ‘So he’s not bothered to enlist Mael Duin’s support? I think that’s an error if he intends to claim to be Bretwalda of the North, as his father was.’

  ‘You think he should?’

  ‘It ensured peace on Oswiu’s northern border for most of the time he was on the throne of Northumbria. I valued the security and prosperity it brought me. However, it has probably run its course. If what you say about Bruide is true, he seeks chaos and conflict as a means of increasing his own power.’

  ‘Does that mean that you’ll bring your army to join Ecgfrith at Stirling?’

  ‘What does Ecgfrith hope to gain from this war?’

  ‘To defeat Drest and secure his northern border, no more.’

  ‘I have a border with Hydirr in the north-west and Uunnid in the north-east. I will advance through these two kingdoms as far as Stirling but no further, provided that Ecgfrith will allow me to keep the land I conquer. It will give me a buffer between my people and Pictland.’

  ‘I have no authority to agree such terms, Elfin.’

  ‘Then go back to Ecgfrith and return when you have the authority.’

  ‘And if he says no?’

  ‘Then I shall probably take the land anyway.’

  ‘That would be a mistake. Even the suggestion is likely to antagonise him.’

  ‘Then I leave it to your diplomatic skills to phrase it more acceptably.’

  ~~~

  ‘Did he say what he would do if I refused his terms?’ Ecgfrith asked.

  It was the question that Catinus had been dreading.

  ‘There is nothing to stop him taking the lands anyway. After you defeat Drest the Picts will be in no position to contest his encroachment, and I suspect you might not want to go to war over the issue.’

  ‘You suppose correctly. Of course, it would be a different matter if he had openly threatened to annex the land.’

  Catinus studiously avoided meeting the king’s eye. Ecgfrith was no fool and he was grateful that Catinus had found a way to phrase it so that it didn’t become a matter of dispute.

  ‘Very well, I agree, but only as far as Endrick Water and the Carron Valley. The rest of Hyddir, Uuynnid and the whole of Pobla will become mine.’

  Catinus returned to Elfin the next day and he accepted the limitation, albeit unwillingly. As a token of good faith he lent Catinus fifty of his most experienced warriors, all mounted, but on hill ponies. They could move more swiftly than a man on foot, but they would be no use as cavalry.

  Nevertheless, Ecgfrith allocated them to Alweo and Catinus joined him as his second-in-command. With his gesith, this brought the total of mounted warriors up to over a hundred and fifty.

  The past week had been fine, although the sun had been obscured by white clouds for much of the time. On the day that the army broke camp to march up Strathallan towards the head of the Firth of Tay the weather deteriorated. A cold wind swept down the glen from the north east bringing with it gusts of rain and even the odd shower of hailstones. Although it was only the beginning of autumn it felt more like the start of winter.

  Catinus wrapped his cloak around the lower half of his face and pulled the hood down as far as possible over his eyes. He was wearing his leather arming cap but his helmet hung from his saddle and he wore his shield slung on his back. Normally Drefan would have carried both helmet and shield on his pony until they were required, but today he had a feeling he might need them urgently.

  Alweo had sent six men ahead to scout and another six rode along each slope of the hills lining the glen. It was their job to make sure that the main body weren’t ambushed. They had reported seeing Picts shadowing the army’s progress from the crest line above them but there had been no attempt to attack them – so far.

  Thankfully the weather had improved as the day wore on, and although the sky overhead remain grey, there was no more rain or hail and the wind had moderated.

  They were half way along Strathallan, heading for the junction with Strathearn, when their advance was blocked by a sizable body of Picts. The muddy track they were following crossed a river known as Allan Water via a shallow ford at that point and their enemy had taken up a position on the far side of the river.

  ‘How many of them are there,’ Ecgfrith asked Catinus when the latter had ridden back to tell him.

  ‘No more than a thousand. Alweo and I suspect that there are more hidden somewhere waiting to descend on our flanks as soon as we are committed to attacking the lot blocking the ford.’

  ‘He’s got scouts out looking for them?’

  ‘Yes, but they need to proceed carefully or they risk riding into a trap.’

  ‘Good. We’ll wait here until we know more.’

  ‘In that case it may be a good idea to deploy flank guards, Cyning.’

  ‘Very well, Redwald, will you see to it?’

  The hereræswa nodded brusquely and left. He
resented being told to do the blindingly obvious. He watched Catinus mount up and ride back to the vanguard with narrowed eyes. He was one of those who thought that the late king had raised Catinus too high, though he had never said so. Now the wretch had made him look as if he didn’t know his job. It was time the jumped-up Briton was taught a lesson. It was a decision which was to have dire consequences.

  An hour later Alweo’s scouts returned.

  ‘They’re waiting for us in the Glen of the Eagles, lord,’ they told him. ‘About two thousand of them.’

  ‘As we suspected, thank you.’

  Catinus wasn’t a fool; he realised that he shouldn’t have suggested putting out flank guards. He knew that Redwald would have taken it as an insult; it was something he’d have done automatically once they’d halted. Catinus had a plan but he was sure that it would be more acceptable to the proud Redwald if it came from Alweo. So this time his friend rode back to talk to Ecgfrith and his hereræswa.

  Unseen from the Picts blocking the river crossing, Redwald led half of the spearmen up the re-entrant to their right. It took them up behind the hill between them and the waiting Picts in the Glen of the Eagles. Meanwhile Alweo and Catinus led the horsemen back the way they had come to cross Allan Water two miles further down Strathallan. The king took command of the rest of the footmen, including the archers, and sited the latter where they could see their foes on the opposite bank of the river and the entrance to the Glen of the Eagles.

  To spring the trap a fire was lit on the summit of the mountain behind which Redwald waited with his men. As soon as they saw it, he led them to the saddle between two hills and down the Glen of the Eagles. The surprised Picts panicked when they realised that their ambush had been foiled and, instead of turning to face the onrushing Northumbrians, they fled down the glen.

  As soon as they came within range of Ecgfrith’s archers volley after volley of arrows darkened the skies and score of the routed Picts fell dead or wounded. Those behind the leaders tripped over the bodies and chaos resulted. Then Redwald’s men hit them in the rear.