Warriors of the Storm

скачать книгу бесплатно


‘You believe he will attack Ceaster?’ Æthelflaed asked.

‘Why else is he here?’ Ceolnoth said heatedly. ‘He has brought over a thousand pagans to destroy us.’

‘Two thousand by now,’ I corrected him, ‘and some Christians too.’

‘Christians?’ Æthelflaed asked sharply.

‘He has Irish in his army,’ I reminded her.

‘Two thousand pagans?’ Cynlæf spoke for the first time.

I ignored him. If he wanted me to respond then he needed to use more courtesy, but he had asked a sensible question, and Æthelflaed also wanted the answer. ‘Two thousand? You’re certain he has that many?’ she demanded of me.

I stood and walked around the table so that I was at the front of the dais. ‘Ragnall brought over a thousand warriors,’ I said, ‘and he used those to occupy Eads Byrig. At least another thousand have joined him since, coming either by sea or on the roads south through Northumbria. He grows strong! But despite his strength he has not sent a single man southwards. Not one cow has been stolen from Mercia, not one child taken as a slave. He hasn’t even burned a village church! He hasn’t sent scouts to look at Ceaster, he’s ignored us.’

‘Two thousand?’ Æthelflaed again echoed Cynlæf’s question.

‘Instead,’ I said, ‘he’s made a bridge across the Mærse and his men have been going north. What lies to the north?’ I let the question hang in the smoky hall.

‘Northumbria,’ someone said helpfully.

‘Men!’ I said. ‘Danes! Northmen! Men who hold land and fear that we’ll take it from them. Men who have no king unless you count that weakling in Eoferwic. Men, my lady, who are looking for a leader who will make them safe. He’s recruiting men from Northumbria, so yes, his army grows every day.’

‘All at Eads Byrig?’ Æthelflaed asked.

‘Maybe three, four hundred men there,’ I said. ‘There isn’t enough water for more, but the rest are camped by the Mærse where Ragnall’s made a bridge of boats. I think that’s where he’s gathering his army, and by next week he’ll have three thousand men.’

The priests crossed themselves. ‘How in God’s name,’ Ceolberht asked quietly, ‘do we fight a horde like that?’

‘Ragnall,’ I went on remorselessly, talking directly to Æthelflaed now, ‘leads the largest enemy army to be seen in Britain since the days of your father. And every day that army gets bigger.’

‘We shall trust in the Lord our God!’ Father Leofstan spoke for the first time, ‘and in the Lord Uhtred too!’ he added slyly. The bishop-elect had been invited to join Æthelflaed on the high dais, but had preferred to sit at one of the lower tables. He beamed his smile at me then wagged a disapproving finger. ‘You’re trying to frighten us, Lord Uhtred!’

‘Jarl Ragnall,’ I said, ‘is a frightening man.’

‘But we have you! And you smite the heathen!’

‘I am a heathen!’

He chuckled at that. ‘The Lord will provide!’

‘Then perhaps someone can tell me,’ I turned back to the high table, ‘how the Lord will provide for us to defeat Ragnall?’

‘What has been done so far?’ Æthelflaed asked.

‘I’ve summoned the fyrd,’ I said, ‘and sent all the folk who wanted refuge to the burhs. We’ve deepened the ditch here, we’ve sharpened the stakes in the ditch, we’ve stacked missiles on the walls, and we’ve filled the storerooms. And we have a scout in the woods now, exploring the new camp as well as Eads Byrig.’

‘So now is the time to smite Ragnall!’ Father Ceolnoth said enthusiastically.

I spat towards him. ‘Will someone please tell that drivelling idiot why we cannot fight Ragnall.’

The silence was finally broken by Sihtric. ‘Because he’s protected by the walls of Eads Byrig.’

‘Not the men by the river!’ Ceolnoth pointed out. ‘They’re not protected!’

‘We don’t know that,’ I said, ‘which is why my scout is in the woods. But even if they don’t have a palisade, they do have the forest. Lead an army into a forest and it will be ambushed.’

‘You could cross the river to the east,’ Father Ceolnoth decided to offer military advice, ‘and attack the bridge from the north.’

‘And why would I do that, you spavined idiot?’ I demanded. ‘I want the bridge there! If I destroy the bridge then I’ve trapped three thousand Northmen inside Mercia. I want them out of Mercia! I want the bastards across the river.’ I paused, then decided to speak what my instinct told me was the truth, a truth I confidently expected Beadwulf to confirm. ‘And that’s what they want too.’

Æthelflaed frowned at me, puzzled. ‘They want to be across the river?’

Ceolnoth muttered something about the idea being a nonsense, but Cynlæf had understood what I was suggesting. ‘The Lord Uhtred,’ he said, investing my name with respect, ‘believes that what Ragnall really means to do is invade Northumbria. He wants to be king there.’

‘Then why is he here?’ Ceolberht asked plaintively.

‘To make the Northumbrians believe his ambitions are here,’ Cynlæf explained. ‘He’s misleading his pagan enemies. Ragnall doesn’t want to invade Mercia …’

‘Yet,’ I intervened strongly.

‘He wants to be king of the north,’ Cynlæf finished.

Æthelflaed looked at me. ‘Is he right?’

‘I think he is,’ I said.

‘So Ragnall isn’t coming to Ceaster?’

‘He knows what I did to his brother here,’ I said.

Leofstan looked puzzled. ‘His brother?’

‘Sigtryggr attacked Ceaster,’ I told the priest, ‘and we slaughtered his men, and I took his right eye.’

‘And he took your daughter to wife!’ Father Ceolnoth could not resist saying.

‘At least she gets humped,’ I said, still looking at Leofstan. I turned back to Æthelflaed. ‘Ragnall’s not interested in attacking Ceaster,’ I assured her, ‘not for a year or two, anyway. One day? Yes, if he can, but not yet. So no,’ I spoke firmly to reassure her, ‘he’s not coming here.’

And he came next morning.

The Northmen came from the forest’s edge in six great streams. They still lacked sufficient horses, so many of them came on foot, but they all came in mail and helmeted, carrying shields and weapons, emerging from the far trees beneath their banners that showed eagles and axes, dragons and ravens, ships and thunderbolts. Some flags showed the Christian cross, and those, I assumed, were Conall’s Irishmen, while one banner was Haesten’s simple emblem of a human skull held aloft on a pole. The biggest flag was Ragnall’s blood-red axe that flew in the strong wind above a group of mounted men who advanced ahead of the great horde, which slowly shook itself into a massive battle line that faced Ceaster’s eastern ramparts. A horn sounded three times from the enemy ranks as if they thought we had somehow not noticed their coming.

Finan had returned ahead of the enemy, warning me that he had seen movement in the forest, and now he joined me and my son on the ramparts and looked at the vast army, which had emerged from the distant trees and faced us across half a mile of open land. ‘No ladders,’ he said.

‘Not that I can see.’

‘The heathen are mighty!’ Father Leofstan had also come to the ramparts and called to us from some paces away. ‘Yet shall we prevail! Is that not right, Lord Uhtred?’

I ignored him. ‘No ladders,’ I said to Finan, ‘so this isn’t an attack.’

‘It’s impressive though,’ my son said, staring at the vast army. He turned as a small voice squeaked from the steps leading up to the ramparts. It was Father Leofstan’s wife, or at least it was a bundle of cloaks, robes, and hoods that resembled the bundle he had arrived with.

‘Gomer dearest!’ Father Leofstan cried, and hurried to help the bundle up the steep stairs. ‘Careful, my cherub, careful!’

‘He married a gnome,’ my son said.

I laughed. Father Leofstan was so tall, and the bundle was so small and, swathed in robes as she was, she did resemble a plump little gnome. She reached out a hand and her husband helped her up the last of the worn steps. She squeaked in relief when she reached the top, then gasped as she saw Ragnall’s army that was now advancing through the Roman cemetery. She stood close beside her husband, her head scarcely reaching his waist, and she clutched his priestly robe as if fearing she might topple off the wall’s top. I tried to see her face, but it was too deeply shadowed by her big hood. ‘Are they the pagans?’ she asked in a small voice.

‘Have faith, my darling,’ Father Leofstan said cheerfully, ‘God has sent us Lord Uhtred, and God will vouchsafe us victory.’ He raised his broad face to the sky and lifted his hands, ‘Pour out Thy fury upon the heathen, oh Lord!’ he prayed, ‘vex them with Thy wrath and smite them with Thine anger!’

‘Amen,’ his wife squeaked.

‘Poor little thing,’ Finan said quietly as he looked at her. ‘She’s got to be ugly as a toad under all those clothes. He’s probably relieved he doesn’t have to plough her.’

‘Maybe she’s relieved,’ I said.

‘Or maybe she’s a beauty,’ my son said wistfully.

‘Two silver shillings says she’s a toad,’ Finan said.

‘Done!’ My son held out his hand to seal the wager.

‘Don’t be such damned fools,’ I snarled. ‘I have enough trouble with your damned church without either of you plugging the bishop’s wife.’

‘His gnome, you mean,’ my son said.

‘Just keep your dirty hands to yourself,’ I ordered him, then turned to see eleven riders spurring ahead of the massive shield wall. They came under three banners and were riding towards our ramparts. ‘It’s time to go,’ I said.

Time to meet the enemy.

FOUR (#ulink_357f6daa-ce57-5e8b-a6a1-51c26a5f1617)

Our horses were waiting in the street where Godric, my servant, carried my fine wolf-crested helmet, a newly painted shield, and my bearskin cloak. My standard-bearer shook out the great banner of the wolf’s head as I heaved myself into the saddle. I was riding Tintreg, a new night-black stallion, huge and savage. His name meant Torment, and he had been a gift from my old friend Steapa who had been commander of King Edward’s household troops until he had retired to his lands in Wiltunscir. Tintreg, like Steapa, was battle-trained and bad-tempered. I liked him.

Æthelflaed was already waiting at the north gate. She was mounted on Gast, her white mare, and wearing her polished mail beneath a snow-white cloak. Merewalh, Osferth and Cynlæf were with her, as was Father Fraomar, her confessor and chaplain. ‘How many men are coming from the pagans?’ Æthelflaed asked me.

‘Eleven.’

‘Bring one more man,’ she ordered Merewalh. That added man, with her standard-bearer and mine, and with my son and Finan as my companions, would make the same number as Ragnall brought towards us.

‘Bring Prince Æthelstan!’ I told Merewalh.

Merewalh looked at Æthelflaed, who nodded assent. ‘But tell him to hurry!’ she added curtly.

‘Make the bastards wait,’ I growled, a comment Æthelflaed ignored.

Æthelstan was already dressed for battle in mail and helmet, so the only delay was as his horse was saddled. He grinned at me as he mounted, then gave his aunt a respectful bow. ‘Thank you, my lady!’

‘Just keep silent,’ Æthelflaed ordered him, then raised her voice. ‘Open the gates!’

The huge gates creaked and squealed and scraped as they were pushed outwards. Men were still pounding up the stone steps to the ramparts as our two standard-bearers led the way through the arch’s long tunnel. Æthelflaed’s cross-holding goose and my wolf’s head were the two banners that were lifted to a weak spring sunlight as we clattered over the bridge that crossed the flooded ditch. Then we spurred towards Ragnall and his men, who had reined in some three hundred yards away.

‘You don’t need to be here,’ I told Æthelflaed.

‘Why not?’

‘Because it will be nothing but insults.’

‘You think I’m afraid of words?’

‘I think he’ll insult you and try to offend you, and his victory will be your anger.’

‘Our scripture teaches us that a fool is full of words!’ Father Fraomar said. He was a pleasant enough young man and intensely loyal to Æthelflaed. ‘So let the wretch speak and betray his foolishness.’

I turned in my saddle to look at Ceaster’s walls. They were thick with men, the sun glinting from spear-points along the whole length of the ramparts. The ditch had been cleared and newly planted with sharpened stakes, and the walls were hung with banners, most of them showing Christian saints. The defences, I thought, looked formidable. ‘If he tries to attack the city,’ I said, ‘then he is a fool.’

‘Then why is he here?’ Æthelflaed asked.

‘This morning? To scare us, insult us, and provoke us.’

‘I want to see him,’ she said. ‘I want to see what kind of man he is.’