Autumn 920
"Should you be up?" Aelfkin, who had just woken at the sound of the door, pulled himself to a sitting position. The birds had started their chorus, and Osthryth shivered as the cold morning breeze blew through the top stable room.
"I shouldn't," Osthryth admitted, touching the side of her head. "But if it is to be done, it needs to be done now."
"Done?" Aelfkin rubbed his eyes, then put out a hand. "Captain, turn away if you don't want to see us as we came back last night." Osthryth laughed. She had wiped that arse so many times when he was a young child warrior, and she said so, as she sat on the step at the top of the room. She held her head as she heard the crunching of straw. An unmarried woman might chance a glimpse at what she suspected was a fine body; a man whether married or no would peep at a woman.
But these men already bore the ignominy that their captain was not a man. Bore it? Relished in it. Merewalh told Osthryth that Aelfkin and his men were always on the field first, and last off it, using the strokes she had taught them, Gaelish strokes, that had been taught to her by the Gaelish warriors, by Finnolai and Feargus, Domhnall and Taghd. She had lost no men in the years since she was exiled to Mercia with Aelffrith. She had lost Aelffrith, of course.
A flutter of sadness crossed Osthryth's heart as she waited, thinking of Aelffrith. Mercia was just not the same without him to advise, guide and just simply stand beside her in that reassuring manner of his.
"We are ready," Aelfkin told her.
"None of you have your arse on display? Or worse?" she asked, and chuckled, although really, Osthryth thought, she shouldn't have; it made her head throb.
They were dressed, and awake, of sorts, many rubs of the eye and yawns. But, their loyalty shone through to Osthryth on that cold, grey morning, which was good, because it was loyalty that she needed.
"We will be outlaws," Osthryth concluded, ten minutes later. "We will be working outside the laws and treaties of Lord Aethelstan, and any other lord we may meet." She got to her feet, gritting her teeth as she did so, so that she did not swoon. Perhaps she really should not be up. At least she had had a drink of the water Aeswi left for her. They could get better food and drink when they were away from the city.
"To what end, Captain?" asked Aelffrith, carefully. By the looks on her warriors' faces, even Caltigar's, that was what they all wanted to know.
"The independence movement will fail. It is a question of numbers. To stabilise Mercia and bring unity, leadership. As to that, I can think of no-one better to lead you than Aethelstan; he is your Lady's anointed successor, chosen unanimously by all of the lords." And Osthryth continued to push out of her mind the inconvenient fact that Aethelflaed's actual choice had been her daughter.
"We need to find out what Sygtryggr intends to do with his army marching on Tamworth," she added, "And if Anlaf has anything to do with it."
"They are saying King Constantine the basta- " Aelfkin stopped, "The King of Alba is behind it, encouaging Norse." Her men wanted to know that, too.
"If anything, they are fleeing from the retribution from the atrocities they caused in Ireland. One Norse leader, my dear friend Domnall, suspected Anlaf. Whoever did it, killed nine of Domnall's kin, including his own brother the king of Midhe and the High King." She looked at each and every one of her men. "And if a Norseman is coming to Tamworth with an army, to a place where nobles of many nations are gathered..." Osthryth trailed off.
Because it had only just occurred to her. The Irish kings and nobles had met before being ambushed by the Norse. And now, they were in Mercia. And there was a meeting of the Witans in Tamworth. What an excellent place for sequel.
"Something is happening in Tamworth."
"There is always something happeing in Tamworth, it's that sort of place," Aelfkin told her, his voice light. There was a little laughter, and Osthryth smiled too. They did need a break to seriousness with which she had woken them up.
"We have the Tame, and the Anker," Aelfkin continued.
"You have a what?" Osthryth asked, and the Mercians roared with laughter.
"Now," Osthryth said to them, "I will not take anyone who does not want to go. I will wait in the courtyard. If you are coming, leave your weapons in the armoury; wrap them and put them behind the chimney breast." Because that was where she had placed both Buaidh and Taghd's seax. It would be a wrench leaning behind her weapons, like losing her arms so mcuh that they were a part of her.
And Osthryth's chest filled with pride when, as she turned back round to the stable door, all five of her men were standing in front of her. Osthryth nodded to each one in turn, and then hastily issued them all with a job that would get them from Ceastre as fast as possible.
"What do you suspect, really?" Aelfkin asked her, as they readied the horses, as Oshere opened the south gate. As Aelgfrith gave a false message to delay the guards.
"I cannot tell you what," she told him. "Because then, when you are asked why you became outlaws, you won't have to die." And, she thought to herself, I think it has something to do with my family.
"Where to first?" Aelfkin asked, once they were clear of the city.
"Teotenhalgh," Osthryth told him. "Aldhelm has a recruiting station there. We are outlaws seeking amnestu by volunteering to join the Mercian Army."
For Aldhelm was merciful, Osthryth knew. And they were not stopped when they rode off, armourless, on four of Aethelstan's best horses.
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"Where do you think the recruiters are?" Aelfkin asked Osthryth, as they passed down the Wem to Saltwic road. Teotenhalgh was not far away, and they rode eastwards from the Shrewsbury. Her heart brightened when the village came into view: Aldhelm, the fairest man she knew, would be there.
As yet, however, they looked like what Osthryth wanted them to look like, a bunch of thieves, and Osthryth had had Aeglfrith cur her hair with horse shears so it rested above her ears.
"Just there," she showed him, pointing forward. "A few miles, and they still have Saint Werburh's standard." It should have been a warning sign, Osthryth thought later. Aldhelm would have changed it to the white dragon that Aethelstan favoured.
"We will walk in with our horses," Osthryth told him. "We will want to be seen to be wanting to sell them. Caltigar," she looked to her farm manager, "You do not speak under any circumstances. Nor will I, if I can help it. You are in charge. We want to trade the horses for a position in the army."
"Why?" asked Aeglfrith. "Why shouldn't you speak?"
"Because Caltigar sounds like an Aberffrau Cymric man, and I probably sound like a Gael. Under no circumstances are we poor farmers from the likes of Pencrec, or wherever." Osthryth shook her head when she got down from her horse, leading it, as instructed, to the encampment. It hurt, and Osthryth used a ruffle of her badly-trimmed hair to disguise a firm rub. There was a lump.
There was also a man, two men, riding out to them. Aldhelm, she was sure, must be one of them, Osthryth thought. Then she hissed to Aelfkin, "When we near, I will be your prisoner, I need to go to somewhere that you are not. We can get back together when we get to Tamworth.
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"There!" Sihtric, who had been circulating the hall's inner walls, pointed to a man who was heading towards the kitchens.
"Are you sure, Sihtric?" Finan asked. It was the first thing he had said since they had heard that they were to elace Ceastre and ride with Aethelstan to his Grand Witan at Mercia. "Because, last time it was an armourer and he definitely didn't speak Gaelish.
They were ready to leave beside the Lord of Mercia. He was returning to his capital - Mercia's new capital of Tamworth in the centre of the country. Aethelflaed's capital, Uhtred mused. It suited her expansionist needs; many burhs had been built up to that point in the country - those in the west were Aethelflaed's doing; those in the east, Edward's. They had met one another at the centre of Mercia, and effectively, abolished their father's Danelaw. Mercia was now back under the control of the Angles and the Saxons, as was Northumbria, albeit with a Norse king.
And that was something Aethelstan was about to change. He had been a little sketchy on the details, but it involved all of the royal houses meeting at Tamworth. Sygtryggr was to meet them there as well. Alone, because of Stiorra's death.
But there was some confusion in the city - men had ridden out before Aethelstan, presumably to Tamworth, although they could have been to anywhere. Aldhelm suspected that these men were the independents, those wanting a Mercia free of Wessex rule. And, unfortunately, it had come to the ear of Aldhelm that Osthryth's company had been seen riding out in the early hours of the morning.
"We'll soon see," Uhtred told him, although anything that would pinpoint Osthryth making overtures to chaos on behalf of Constntine, he would well believe. And so, Sihtric had located the other Alba bastard to arrive in Ceastre.
"Have you spoken to your son?" Aeswi asked Uhtred, watching Serpent Breath, beadily.
"Why would I ask him?" Uhtred scoffed, "He stands just there, with me."
"Your other son?" Finan prompted. Uhtred lowered his sword just a fraction, then looked back to Aeswi.
"Do you think she will be with my other son?"
"It is possible," Aeswi shrugged. He was uneasy, for Osthryth had not been where he had left her the night before. Merewalh's bed was empty, and there was no sign of Aelfkin or any of his men.
"Osferth, go and ask my other son whether he has seen my sister," Uhtred ordered, and his face grew hard when the baby monk, Alfred's bastard son, returned empty-handed.
"Do you know where my sister is?" Uhtred demanded.
"I do not," Aeswi replied. Uhtred saw Finan's face, and turned back to the Gaelish shit, pointing his blade closer to his neck. "You could look in the armoury, should you like?"
"I should like," Uhtred told him, and he led Aeswi with Serpent Breath to his neck all the way to the back building, and into the room where Osthryth had slept.
"She was here last night, and when I came this morning she was not." Uhtred's warriors crowded in behind Finan, who was searching the room with his eyes.
"I'll take that," he said, noticing something sticking out of the back of the fireplace. It was Taghd's seax. "And that." Uhtred crossed to where Osthryth's blades had been put, and pulled out five more.
"They left their arms," Uhtred surmised. "Good blades," he added, testing one or two of them. "Why would a company of warriors leave behind their blades?"
"Sihtric, Osferth, take these." Then he looked back to Aeswi.
"You are coming with us," he said to Constantine's man.
"To find my wife," Finan said in Gaelish
"To find your wife," Aeswi repeated back, "To find my comrade, my dear friend." He nodded to Buaidh. "She should not have been so reckless. Constantine wanted her here to gather intelligence, not to fight."
"He wanted what?" Uhtred asked. It wasn't for clarification, more an exclamation that he had finally found out something of worth. Unfortunately, it involved his sister, who was missing.
"Tie a horse to mine," Uhtred said to Sihtric. And to Aeswi, he added, "I would make you walk behind me, but we want to get to Tamworth by nightfall."
Finan stalked past Aeswi, giving him a look of hatred.
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"This is my prisoner, we want to join the Mercian Army." Osthryth heard Aelfkin's bright, clear voice declare this to the recruiting sergeant. "We understand you take recruits."
"I have many recruits," the man said, and glanced to his superior. "We have five volunteers, my lord," he told him. "One is a prisoner." A wide smile had spread across his face. This should have been the second clue, a face Osthryth had seared into her very brain so that she could remember it and kill him the next time she saw him.
"You, prisoner," said the senior warrior, "Come with me. The rest, go with Gedfrith.
"Will you give us food?" Aelfkin asked, playing his part well. He looked across to Osthryth, who shook her head dismissively. Don't care about me, I will be alright.
Although, her second thoughts chipped in, she may not be. Stars the colour of the urchins she had collected on the Doire beach for Mael Muire's gospel book flashed before her eyes, and the next thing she knew she was standing with a patch of grass under her feet, iron rings about her ankles and wrists and six terrified pairs of eyes looking at her.
"Where is Aldhelm?" Osthryth asked of the man. And then the name of the noble came to her mind - he had been the bastard who had shut her way to the Britons when she was desperate to take herbs to Gisela. He had given her away in Aylesbury, when she was attempting to flee, under the crime of killing Eadith's brother. Did he know her now?
No, Osthryth reckoned. He was just a cunt of a man who relished in the sport of upsetting other people's lives.
"We are West Saxons," he told Osthryth, the fox-like grin on his face. "We are not bastard Mercians, we have our quota now."
And the quota, Osthryth was soon to find out, was slaves.
It didn't matter to them whether Osthryth's men were guards of some sort - separating her had been a ruse to ensure they didn't cause panic. The five others of them soon joined Osthryth, so manacled as she.
They were sleeping under an old haystack that night, iron bars caging them together, water trickling down the stale hay strands and onto them. There was no sleep to be had. Osthryth had slunk to one of the corners of the cell, and had laid her head against the bars. The banging now of her headache was eased when she pushed her head towards it.
Was this it, then? Osthryth thought, as she watched the stars rise. Was that how the world ended? She would trade it all for her men to be free. She felt ashamed, that she had let them down. And when Aelfkin came to sit by her, and dropped an arm around her shoulders, it made her feel all the worse.
"I got it wrong," she told Aelfkin. And that was all she could say for the whole of the night. But, by some miracle, and after they had been shaken awake in the morning, they found they were to be released from the cell, and were going to be walking to Tamworth anyway.
"You can all get away," she told him, as the ankle chains chafed on her bare skin. "You came with me because I commanded you, and - " But Aelfkin placed a hand on her shoulder.
"We all chose," he told her. "We are here because we trust you. You have a plan, we all know it." Obviously, Osthryth thought, dully. But it turned out to be a foolish plan. Instead, she scooped handfuls of rainwater from a dip in the haystack's fibres. It had a strange taste to it, but she was grateful for it, and the two men were fast asleep, and would not be able to see her in the darkness.
"Bastard Norse and outlaws will fetch a good price in Tamworth," she heard Aldred say to Gedfrith the next morning. But it was not the slavers who were most of a nusiance to Osthryth, but the Norse.
Two older men, grandfathers, and three younger women, and a young boy, one of their sons, Osthryth supposed. She also supposed they had been captured having fled Eireann and she lowered her voice to ask.
"We were at Rumfcofa," one of the older men told her. "We were run out. Caught by slavers when our sons died." Rumfcofa, Osthryth thought. On the border of Mercia and Northumbria.
"And you have been prisoners long?"
"Two months," one of the women said. "Our husbands were brothers, we came for a new life when we were turned off our land in Eireann. Killed by Mercians." She looked at the girl and the young boy. "My children. I did not think that the last time I would see them would be when they would be parted in slavey."
Yet, you kept slaves, I would imgine, Osthryth thought. And then asked in Norse. "Do you know why Norse ride to Tamworth? Do you know why Sygtryggr rides to Tamworth?" The woman stopped, as if considering her question.
"He is called to a treaty," she told Osthryth, but broke off when Gedfrith pulled hard on the rope that bound her hands together, and then Osthryth's. It burned her skin. Osthryth looked down. Not through humility, but to de-fuse any situation that might arise. Keep these West Saxon scum busy with whatever their intentions were, and use it to make good their escape.
As they walked, however, she was aware of one of the Norsemen looking at her. When they stopped for a rest by a river, one that would take them, eventually, to Tamworth, and they were allowed to stop for a drink, she noticed that a whisper had gone around all of the Norse. They were looking at her.
Her men were looking at her too, and she stopped mid-drink and asked, "What?"
"What?" Aldred asked. They felt silent, but through more walking, Osthryth was absolutely aware she was being looked at.
"It means she will fight them," Caltigar told Aeglfrith, as they rounded a glade that then took them into open country. For an autumn day, it was sunny and warm on their faces, and the two West Saxon men were flagging in the heat.
"With what?" Aeglfrith replied. "We left our weapons at Ceastre."
"Because she is Kriegerkvinde."
"No talking!" snarled Aldred, as he looked back to his captives, moving inordinately slowly because of their chains. But he could not discern who it was who had been doing the talking so instead settled for dragging the ropes that held Aelfkin and Oshere's chains a little faster. All of the slaves had to keep pace, and for the smaller Norse child, the going was tough.
"What do you mean?" Aeglfrith prompted, when they rested again for Aldred and Gedfrith to piss.
"That jewel in her hair," the older man said, "She was the one who saved the lives of the Thurgilsons."
"No," Aelfkin told them, glancing at the bushes to check for their safety. He remembered the story. "Osthryth and one Thurgilson was imprisoned, he gave her the jewel to break out if prison with."
"It is a teardrop from the goddess Sif," the other man said.
"It is a shiny rock from the river Tuide," Caltigar told them. Behind them, the young boy cried out when the Gedfrith hit him over the back of the head for no good reason. From the position at the back, Osthryth got to her feet and was making her way over to Gedfrith, murder in her eyes, and he hit the boy again. The child fell down, and lay motionless.
When Gedfrith tried the same with Osthryth, he got the chain connecting her wrists slamming into his nose. He cried out in pain, blood pouring from it. A slow, serpentine grin appeared on Aldred's face. He was obviously going to hit her back, kill her, even. But Osthryth was determined to fight back nevertheless.
But Aldred stopped. He was looking at Osthryth with curiosity, and then suddenly, he nodded his head, as if he had worked out a puzzle.
"I know you," he told Osthryth. "You fought for the West Saxons, you fight for the Mercians now?"
"Whoever will pay me," Osthryth told him, dismissively.
"It's like that is it? Girl?" Aldred told her, and backed her towards the bleeding Gedfrith, who held her arms behind her back across a tree trunk, laughing as Aldred tore off her shirt, and then her bindings. The cold of the day's dawn crept across her naked skin, and he put his hand on one of her breasts and squeezed. Gedfrith laughed, and reached for the other.
"Yes," Aldred said, slapping Gedrith's hand away, and making sure his slaves could see. "A woman here." And he smoothed his hand over Osthryth's other breast, brnging the nipple out to a point with his thumb and forefinger, then pinching and rolling it, causing it to stand proud of her breast. "Yes, it is a cold day," he told her, close to her ear, and then did the same with the other nipple.
Osthryth felt the lump against her thigh, and an unsettled feeling in her stomach, as if someone had lit a fire inside it. She was growing angrier and angrier as the man repeated the rubbing and the pulling of her teats. It was the anger of assaults borne when she was younger, when she could not fight back. This time, she could, and she would.
"Let her fight!" one of the Norse women demanded, "You shame her, as well as yourselves." Aldred stopped in his fondling, and turned round to the Norse folk.
"Well I can't have that can I?" Aldred sneered. "A challenge made by Norse scum?"
Inside Osthryth's head was a pain, sharp and aching, as if her brain were too big for her skull. She winced at as the pain struck acutely at one side, and tried to raise her hand.
She had no weapons.
No, she had one. Osthryth had been given the sgian, this was true, and it was not some ceremonial gift, or one between friends, but a practical gift. Ceinid had given it to her when they went south to Wessex with Aedre, to see Beocca.
With one swift movement, Osthryth felt for it at her calf. And that was the last she remembered.
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"They are gone," Osferth said wearily, as Uhtred rested on a bank near where the West Saxon camp had been. "Sihtric will tell you the same. The villagers - " he pointed in the direction of the only settlement for miles, "Told us they had gone, that they were collecting slaves."
Uhtred got back to his feet and looked around him. Evidence of two circular temporary dwellings - tents most likely, were to one side of the river. Under a tussock of grass, some of it burned away, he kicked at some detritus. His foot caught part of a chain, an encircling ring and some bolts.
"They look new," Finan told him, his face severe. And then he leaned across to Uhtred and gripped his shoulder and cried, "Oh God, Uhtred, if she's been taken, I just don't know what I will do!"
"Take heart old friend," Uhtred consoled him, tapping his hand reassuringly with his other. "We are to Tamworth but we will make that Alba bastard tell us." Aeswi looked up from the horse to which he was tied. He saw the chains and the rings and the bolts. Uhtred's attention now fell onto the Gael. "if she has been taken, I will be sending you back in lots of little bags to King Constantine, and he can consider his involvement in the Norse." But Aeswi was unabashed.
"It is not the Norse who Constantine has allied with that have done this," Aeswi replied. "The king has lost kin in Eireann, as you know - " he looked to Finan, but that was all Aeswi could manage, for Finan pulled a knife and held it to his throat.
"She - is - my - wife!" he told him, "You were there, when we wed," he added.
"And I do not wish her to be enslaved," Aeswi replied, under the knife-blade. " "I left her, in Merewalh's room, asleep, from the blow to her head, where I showed you. How certain are you that she left of her own accord?" Finan relaxed a little, but the blade was still a threat.
"You will help us," he continued in Gaelish.
"Agreed," Aeswi told him, also in Gaelish, and in Anglish, Constantine's spy shared everything he knew with Uhtred of Bebbanburg.
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Hands, gentle hands, were touching Osthryth's body now. She tried to sit up but her head ached, and the muscles in her stomach were having touble supporting her.
"Careful now," a voice advised. Osthryth opened her eyes.
"What?" she asked, looking up to a canopy of trees. Aelfkin came into view. He was kneeling beside her holding her hand.
"Don't you remember?" he asked, gently. Osthryth shook her head.
"You used your little knife and killed the one who stripped you,and then stole his sword to lancevthe one who held you. The other four guards escaped to the woods but we hunted them down." Aelfkin surveyed the slaughter field. Osthryth had done that, alone.
"Aeglfrith wanted to take them as prisoners, but it was too late the Norse took the edged weapons and finished them off." After a time, Aelfkin added, "You really don't remember?" Osthryth shook her head. It still hurt, amd she put her hand to it.
"You don't remember?" he repeated. "Captain, Osthryth," he said, suddenly, as if she were a child one had to speak slowly and in detail to. "You are covered in blood all over your body."
Her body, Osthryth told him, and then moved her hands to feel her body. She jerked up when she realised she had no clothes on at all, just a cloak covering her. Aelfkin smiled,, but it was the kind of smile an adult gives to a child when they are just about to deliver awkward news, which was going to get more awkward in the telling.
"Osthryth, you took off all your clothes and attacked the men as if they were a wild bear, like.a beserker would. Did you ..did you take something? Eat somthing?"
"No," Osthryth told him, "I haven't eaten all day." She looked down, knowing that she was indeed naked under the cloak. Beside her was a set of clothes, looking like reclaimed clothes. From the Wessex warriors, perhaps.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"Where we were before they attacked you. Falkbald has just told me it is called, "Weoford."
"We ARE going to Tamworth," Osthryth told Aelfkin, making to get up.
"You have said so," he agreed, "But, please, if you black out again, or have any more urges like that, try to give he some warning at least? It was a shock," he added, and Osthryth knew he was serious.
As they finished off the contents of the West Saxon cart, clearing food and ale, and using the blacksmith's tools to cut themselves free of the chains, of the bolts and clasps. The Norse seemed to relish their freedom, and had taken themselves down to the river to bathe, one of the women remaining to burn their clothes and furnish them with new ones.
The other had, by some other miracle, managed to pick up the young boy who was hurt but still alive.
"Really, I was naked?" Osthryth asked, as they climbed back onto their own horses once again, the Norsemen helping the children onto one, the girl behind the boy and requitioning the last for the women, who both on top of it, the men walking beside one horse each. Aelfkin gave her a slow worried nod. Where was the ale, Osthryth quipped to herself, I need to drink "I have never..."
"Some fungus growing in the water that I drank this morning, from the hay," she mused. Never will I drink from haystacks, Osthryth thought. Never will I drink from a cup that is not my own.
"You rose up, like a bird, unfolding your wings, like a crow," Oshere, the poetic of Osthryth's warriors continued.
"Then you looked at the man, and then you took his sword and beheaded the man who stripped you." This was from Aeglfrith, and he indeed looked as he had seen something remarkable.
"Then you passed out," Aelfkin told her.
"I will try not to do that again," Osthryth told him, as they climbed a hill. Once on the other side once a sight met them.
"Tamworth," she sighed, looking at the fortress high up from both its rivers. People were bustling around it, like tiny dots on the hillside.
"Tamworth," Aelfkin repeated. And then Osthryth turned to the Norse.
"You are free," she told them. "Go anywhere, leave us," she urged.
"No," the man told her. "You are Kriegerkvinde, a battle woman, who fought with the Thurgilsons. You may yet need us."
And Osthryth nodded. They were nearly at Tamworth, nearly finding out what the whole mystery meant.