The Bretwalda (The Casere Book 4) (23 page)

‘Ushu is nothing but marsh and hillside. I can find you something better.’

Conn declined; Ushu had a river that gave it access to the sea, so Sigkarl agreed. He then looked around the room.

‘Where do you get all the people from? Marquis, I look around and I see men and women from all the tribes and all the clans. I do not understand it at all.’

‘To tell you the truth, Aebeling, I’m not so sure I do either.’

‘What do you hope to achieve? If I’m not wrong, you already seem to have more than most Healdends – possibly more than the Bretwalda.’

‘Other than to eliminate the Axum folgere, it is hard to say…’

‘Why do you hate them so – my people certainly have no love for them either. Me; I have found them very… satisfying. You do seem driven in your hatred.’

Conn explained what had happened in Aeaea. ‘They have no one else to blame other than themselves.’

He shrugged. ‘Ashtoreth does not take instruction… and I hear you wish to make all theow free.’

‘Not at all. I have asked that the rules be changed that no one is born a theow.’

‘Dead folgere and free Twacuman – it seems very little reward for everything you have done and risked.’

‘Perhaps, but it is not just that.’ Conn moved to the window in the castle, and pointed over the ocean. ‘Do you know what or who is over that ocean – from where the sun rises every day?’

‘No – only the Gyden do. You do, I presume’

‘No. What I don’t know scares me. That horizon scares me – as does the sea of the western most point of Meshech. Someday, someone will arrive and when they do they will be stronger and meaner than you – just as the Kishdah has been to Meshech. If you want to be ready, you need to give your people freedom, equality, laws to protect the weak from the strong, and finally the power to create and protect those laws. What happened to the Southern Isles, and what the Axum tried to do in Meshech and Sytha, should never be allowed to happen again.’

The Aebeling laughed, but not dismissingly. ‘How can one man change so much in one lifetime?’

‘He can’t – but he can get the process started. They are only ideas and if the idea is good, over time more and more people will believe.’ Conn also believed that it didn’t hurt if your descendants controlled half the known world.

~oo0oo~

While they waited, Conn escaped to his new demesne. All of his fyrd were still camped there – and their main task was to prepare for winter. Wiga diligently constructed longhouses for themselves and their supplies. Stables and paddocks were built to keep a hundred horses while the rest were let go free. Two thousand horses over winter was a lot to feed, and they would roam the land instead, eating and getting stronger. With the Elfina stallion in charge, they would return when required.

The demesne continued all the way down to a river that was navigable at high tide, and a harbour was built with docks. The last supply fleet from Meshech arrived in time to be unloaded at the new docks, and Conn soon had enough food in his warehouse to survive a winter or two, and once the last junk had been unloaded they farewelled Njil. It was a long voyage back in winter seas and he was to escort the junks. They had been loaded with whatever they could find for ballast – mostly timber. He promised to be back by early spring.

While they worked the Jarls started to arrive. Amongst the first were Bakan and Sipan, and they visited him at this rapidly changing estate of ten thousand acres. It was while they were together that Conn had unexpected visitors.

Derryth interrupted them speaking.

‘Feorhhyrde, a Herfina il Axum and a Guntor il Saba are here to see you – with a bedda of the Jarl of Hazin.’

‘Seriously? Herfina…’

Derryth looked at him blankly. ‘Would I jest?’

Reprimanded, Conn apologized. ‘Of course, not. Please send them in.’

They were names from the past; Herfina was the Folctoga who had surrendered her fyrd in lieu of being slaughtered in the second Battle of Rasadi. Guntor had been of assistance in the first battle. It struck him as unusual that they were together. Herfina had also tried to kill him by deceit at the urging of Ashtoreth, and Conn had taken sexual advantage of her because of it. He remembered it as not one of his finest hours.

When they arrived inside, it was not just the three of them – there were four children as well. The eldest seemed about eight.

The bowed as they arrived.

Guntor stepped forward. ‘Marquis, thank you for seeing us. I don’t suppose you remember me?’

Conn bid them sit down, which they did reluctantly given the presence of the Jarls. ‘Of course I remember you both – in Rasadi in 876 and 877. Seems like yesterday.’

Guntor turned to Herfina. Awkwardly she started to speak. ‘You might remember, we spent a night together, and you said that if I was with child, I should go and find Guntor. I was, and I managed to contact him. Guntor was magnanimous enough to purchase me as theow – my efforts in Rasadi did not please my cousin so I was sold – and we travelled as far from Axum as we could. Guntor is cousin to Arild il Lixi who is bedda to Plekhelm il Hazin. The Jarl was kind enough to provide us with sanctuary.’

The Jarl of Elis laughed. ‘I don’t know that you can get further from Axum than Hazin. Certainly not in Makurai.’

Ignoring the bard, Herfina continued. ‘With the news that arrived some time ago, I thought that it was an opportunity for my daughter – our daughter – to meet her father.’

‘I see.’ Conn looked at the young girl who was trying to be brave standing in front of her family. He smiled at her. ‘What is your name?’

She answered bravely. ‘My name is Tihild.’

‘Tihild? A lovely name. You are most welcome in my hall, Tihild il Taransay.’ Conn gave Tihild her full name – without an acknowledged father, you only had a single name. She smiled and looked at her mother nervously.

At that moment more people arrived in the hall; it was close to supper time. Farrun, Asbera and Sarun walked in boisterously and then stopped as they saw the guests.

Asbera was always the polite one; ‘Apologies, papa, we did not know you had guests.’

‘Special guests too’, Derryth added. ‘You have another sibling.’

‘Another one?’

The response was such that the Jarls and Conn burst into laughter at Derryth’s expense. Shaking his head, with a growing smile, he went and got another tankard of beer. ‘Yes, another one. Her name is Tihild.’

Asbera walked over to the young girl. ‘Hello, Tihild, I am Asbera, and I am your sister. Can I have a hug?’

The girl could do little else but burst into tears, as Asbera hugged hug. She then had to hug her brother Farrun – he was getting used to hugs – and Sarun – who loved hugs. By the time she had finished she was bawling – and her whole family was crying. Even the Jarl of Elis had a tear in his eyes.

By the end of dinner, it was decided that the whole family would move to Ushu. Conn needed a steward and Guntor had been farming for the last five years, and with Guntor in charge, they were able to recruit more workers from the Thanes around Makurai. The village would now survive long after Conn’s departure.

~oo0oo~

When it was time for the Witan, Conn had been in Makurai for over fifty days. All of the Jarls were finally in town; including the Jarl of Tarsus who had arrived with the fyrd and the prisoners. They, like the rest, were put in the barracks in town and then set to work by the Aebeling. Under sufferance and under instruction from Conn, he even paid them, and told them that they were not theow, just prisoners. A time would come when they would be freed. The Aebeling spent time consulting him on most matters – and when he was not, Conn was talking to his son Eldarr, and of course the influence of Albega was not to be underestimated. She had spent over eight years living and learning in Conn’s demesne in Sytha.

Before the witan, a major feast was organized. Conn and his entourage, dressed in all their finery, turned up just as there was a major commotion at the entrance to the hall. It was the Jarl of Rubutu, Toulid.

‘I demand that this be put right – I have never sat so far from the front – this is humiliating – and I will not let it stand…

Eldarr had arrived at the door, and he addressed the complainant. ‘Rubutu, what is the matter?’

‘Folctoga,’ It was not a warm welcome. ‘the seating arrangement – it is wrong. I sit nearest to the Aebeling – never this far away.’ He gestured at the plan that was fixed to the door.

‘It is a new plan – it is not based on historical importance. It is based on what we need to grow our demesne.’

‘And what is that?’

‘Ryals – the more head tax you pay; the closer you sit to the position of the Healdend. We asked you how many people you have in your demesne and we calculated what we will expect from you in spring when we collect the head tax. We thought you had more people than Sipan, Tarsus, Elis and Bakan but we were obviously wrong. Were your numbers not correct?’

The Jarl knew not what to say – it was obvious that he had underestimated his numbers deliberately but at the time he did not understand the consequence. The other Jarls did – and had possibly inflated their numbers to ensure that they were nearest the head of the table in the room. They would need to work hard to keep their seat however – but at least they had a year.

With nothing else to say, the Jarl submissively entered the hall; his entourage trailing along behind. Watching him leave, Eldarr commented he was not the first to struggle with the new order.

‘It will be even newer after tonight. You will officially be Aebeling.’

‘It has yet to be proven if the Jarls will accept that – already we have rumblings.’

‘I am prepared for rumblings.’

It was not long into the feast when the official ceremonies started. Sigkarl was seated at the head – instead of his Axum bedda, he had his latest conquest at his side – the youngest son of one of the Jarls, who seemed to revel in his elevation to the position of Aebeling’s favourite.

Alkia arrived with the now almost twenty adult folgere that had answered the call. They were dressed in the sheer white gowns and their necklaces glowed as they entered the hall; they stood in pairs behind Alkia as she faced the throne chairs; of which there were five; the centre one the largest.

The centre chair was that of the Healdend – and had not been sat in for hundreds of years – though the Axum folgere had been known to use it when they conducted their ceremonies in the hall, as representatives of the Bretwalda. On the right sat the Aebeling, and on his left would sit the Folctoga – the head of Healdend’s fyrd. Next to him would sit the Steward, his senior official, and to the right of the Aebeling would sit the head folgere. Only three of these seats were filled at the moment.

The long and smoky hall went silent – it was a long time since Ishtar had been in these halls, and Conn sensed the lack of fear. Instead, there was a feeling of love or lust – sometimes it was hard to distinguish between them. The majority of the Jarls had been to ‘consult’ with the folgere since their arrival, and were better for the experience.

‘Aebeling. Ishtar’, Alkia began, ‘says that it is time for me to place someone in the seat of Healdend, if it is your will that seat be filled.’

‘It is my will,’ Sigkarl responded.

‘Very well.’ Alkia removed a gold bracelet from her hand, and in her hand, in the white glow that suddenly appeared, the gold became malleable and soft; it stretched and formed not a crown but a Torc – and she held the Torc high for everyone to. ‘Ishtar wants it known,’ the voice that she used now was not her own, it was strangely deeper and it resonated throughout the hall. Everyone could hear it clearly, ‘that she chooses Eldarr, son of Sigkarl, to be Healdend.’

Sigkarl was about to stand when he sat down again suddenly. He was as bewildered as everyone else in the room – including Eldarr. The room broke out in confusion.

‘Well that is not something you see every day – a surprise that is not of our doing.’ Derryth whispered to Conn.

‘Well, not directly of our doing. It is a good idea though.’

‘You thought about it?’

‘Yes – strangely, I’ve been thinking about it for some time. But I had no way of making it happen.’

Amongst the commotion, Alkia kept the Torc raised, and the girls behind her started a chant; a low hum of not words but melody. They also beamed a soft glow of white that filled the centre of the room. Ishtar was making her presence felt. Soon the room had been lulled back into silence. Alkia continued. ‘Ishtar understands that this is not as all would expect, but it is best for her people.’

The Jarl of Rubutu stood – the same one that had been affronted at the door. ‘I do not accept this nomination; there are others that should follow before the grandson of a Priecuman theow. There are many of us that are the descendants of Gurtin who are of pure blood! Who will stand with me if I refuse to accept this nomination?’

‘I will stand against you.’ Conn stood. It was time to clear the air. ‘And any that join you.’

The Jarl took an involuntary step backwards. Conn doubted that he’d considered that Conn would become involved. As he spoke another voice was heard from the front. It was Rendel, Jarl of Tarsus, and current Folctoga of a very large Makurian fyrd.