The Way of Wyrd (6 page)

He hunched over the kindling, sparked flame from flint and iron and expertly coaxed the fire to a full blaze. Then he sat next to me, so close that we were almost touching, and warmed his hands by the flames.

‘You must be important,’ he said airily. ‘I was engaged to guide you by a messenger of the King. Are you royal-born?’

My mind was racing, for I had never before encountered a stranger in such alien surroundings. This question puzzled me, for I had already told him that I was a freeman and not royal. I decided to admit as little as possible; it might suit my purpose to disguise the true nature of my mission.

‘What did they tell you?’ I asked guardedly.

Wulf tipped his hat to the back of his head and leaned forward towards the hissing fire.

‘They told me that you are to be guided to our gods,’ he replied, maintaining his pleasant manner. ‘Why does the King wish you to know the powers of the Mighty Ones?’

‘Your King would like knowledge of your gods spread to other kingdoms; I am to take back the teachings of your priests to my homeland.’

The lie was cast before I knew what I was saying, but it sounded convincing and I was pleased with it. Wulf turned his head slowly and looked me full in the face, his eyes cold and shiny as hoarfrost.

‘You serve the priests of the new god,’ he said softly. ‘Tell me how you come to prowl in our forests, carrying your god like a concealed dagger?’

I was stunned by his sudden change in mood and his knowledge of my mission. Nervously I eyed the heavy knife strapped to his belt-sheath. He looked strong and experienced and I knew I would stand no chance in a fight. I started talking feverishly, anxious to placate him.

‘The Mercian King is powerful, so powerful that all the rulers of southern kingdoms pay him homage. In the first warm days of spring he commanded Aethelwealh, ruler of your kingdom, to attend the Mercian royal court. There Aethelwealh was ordered to take as his Queen the Christian princess Eabe of the Hwicce people. And on the wedding day Aethelwealh and his court were baptized into the faith of the Lord.’

I paused, avoiding Wulfs probing stare and running an agitated hand over my close-cropped head.

‘Aethelwealh submitted to such a humiliation?’ he said, sounding more curious than shocked.

‘Aethelwealh dared not refuse the arrangement,’ I replied. Wulf raised his eyebrows in surprise and I did not mention that the Mercian King had sweetened the pagan ruler by granting him additional lands on the South coast. ‘When your King prepared to return to these lands, the Mercian monarch commanded that he bring with him a small party of monks to attend to the spiritual needs of Queen Eabe. But he also ordered that your King should co-operate with the monks in creating a Mission for Our Lord the Saviour among your people. I am a scribe and serve Brother Eappa, leader of the Mission.’

Wulf pursed his lips and whistled softly, apparently impressed. Relating the powerful royal authority for my presence seemed to have won respect from my guide and my embarrassment in being caught in a lie melted in a sudden flush of confidence. I allowed myself a smug smile.

Wulf tugged at his beard thoughtfully. ‘What do you wish to know of our gods?’ he asked, sounding as friendly as when I had encountered him on the hilltop.

‘Everything,’ I asserted boldly. ‘The very nature of your beliefs; the names of the gods, the dates and purposes of your festivals and the powers of your priests.’

I had been instructed to take particular interest in the priests of paganism, for it was these people whom the Mission would seek to replace with servants of the Lord.

Wulf covered his mouth with his hand. For an instant I thought that he was hiding a sly smile, but when he dropped his hand his expression was serious.

‘We are simple people, with simple beliefs. We worship the sun, the moon and the stars on account of their shining brightness. We believe in fire because of its sudden heat; also water and the earth because they nourish all things.’ He shrugged his shoulders dismissively. ‘That is the extent of it. Your task should be easily accomplished—there is really nothing more to know.’

Wulf squatted in front of the fire, poking the embers with an oak stick and sending showers of sparks shooting into the night air The conversation seemed to be over as far as he was concerned and I did not know what to say; indeed, I felt embarrassed for him. His beliefs were as manifestly in error as the monks had forewarned, for the South Saxons had yet to learn that He is the true God who created the sun, moon, stars and earth for the enjoyment and use of man. These things were not to be worshipped as gods.

Wulf leaned back against the oak trunk and looked at me sideways. ‘Your god must be very powerful,’ he said, his manner betraying a hint of awe.

‘He is. He is the Creator of everything. And now in the kingdom of Mercia, crimes and outrages against the property of the church are punished with a fine as heavy as that for treason against the King himself.’

Again I had the uneasy feeling that Wulf was chuckling to himself, but if there was a smile on his lips it disappeared instantly.

‘Our gods are not worth discussing. They are fools—like the spoiled children of a petty king,’ he said.

I looked at him in astonishment and thought his gods must indeed be weak and worthless, for similar blasphemies against the Lord Almighty would surely result in eternal damnation. If the South Saxons spoke so disparagingly of all their gods, then the Mission to preach the word of God would meet little difficulty.

‘Can you really denigrate your gods with impunity?’ I asked, my confidence fuelled now by a sense of superiority.

Just then a clap of thunder rumbled in the distance and I sat upright in alarm. Wulf began chuckling as if at some private joke.

‘See!’ he said, pointing towards the sky. ‘Old Thunor, the Thunderer, is taking offence. I suspected that he was eavesdropping, Now what kind of god worth his wergild fines would concern himself with remarks passed in conversation by mere mortals like us?’

I looked nervously at the night sky, grey and flat above the treetops, listening keenly for more thunder. The sound was terrifying reminiscent of the rumble preceding my nightmare encounter with the forest hunters.

‘Let me tell you a story about the Thunderer,’ Wulf continued loudly, frowning melodramatically and glaring in mock abuse towards the sky. ‘It will prove to you what a fool he is. One time he was travelling in the land of the giants, when he came upon the mead hall of the mightiest giant of all and knocked on the door to ask for hospitality.’

Wulf leapt to his feet and stood with legs spread wide apart, banging his fist on an imaginary door. Then he jumped on to the oak trunk and bellowed the giant’s response. ‘“I admit to my hall only those who are masters of some trial. What can a puny individual like you hope to achieve against my giant warriors?”’

Dropping to the ground, Wulf voiced the Thunderer’s challenge: ‘There is no one here can eat faster than I.’ Then he sat on the log and continued his narrative excitedly. ‘An enormous trencher was brought in. Thunor sat down at one end and a giant warrior at the other, and they both ate as fast as they could. They met in the middle of the trencher and Thunor thought he had at least matched the giant for speed of eating. But then he saw that while he had left only the bones of his meat, the giant had eaten all his meat, bones and the trencher as well. Thunor had lost the contest.’

Wulf collapsed in a fit of mirth and was so overcome that he had to rest a hand on my shoulder for support until he had regained his composure. I was so transfixed by his total, animated involvement in his story and his sudden change of mood that I was taken completely by surprise when another crash of thunder rocked the night sky, sending me leaping to my feet with a shout.

‘But wait!’ Wulf said, pulling me back to the ground. ‘There is more. Thunor was too stupid to be dismayed by this defeat. He challenged all the giants in the mighty mead hall to a drinking contest. The giants produced an enormous ale-horn, and challenged the Thunderer to empty it.’

Wulf’s eyes popped as he enacted Thunor’s attempt to empty the imaginary horn; I sat frozen with fear, watching the midnight charade and listening for the threatening, deep-throated boom of thunder. Sitting on the log, Wulf plunged back into the narrative.

‘Thunor took three immense draughts, but was unable to empty the horn. At this the giants roared with laughter, and the mightiest giant said, “This mockery has lasted long enough; after all, Thunor is a mere weakling compared with such mighty beings as we have here”.’

Wulf leapt to his feet again, standing astride in his Thunderer characterization, his eyes blazing, I glanced nervously at the sky; purple thunderclouds rolled across the face of the moon and in the firelight Wolf’s animated body projected huge shadows against the silent trees.

‘Thunderer was now furious. He shouted, “Now I am really angry and I will show you how strong I am. I challenge any of you giants to a wrestling match.” The giants laughed and beckoned into the hall a bent old crone, shuffling forward to take up his challenge. And although Thunor tried with all his strength, he could struggle only evenly with the old woman and eventually she threw him to the ground.’

Wolf’s shoulders heaved with laughter. This seemed to be the end of his tale.

‘Is that the point of the story?’ I asked. ‘Your god was totally humiliated by the giants?’

‘He was,’ Wulf nodded, his words swallowed by chuckles. ‘He turned to leave the hall, his head hung in shame. But then the mighty giant called him back, and said, “Had I known you were so powerful I would never have admitted you to my hall, for I would have been afraid of you”.’

Wulf paused dramatically, his eyes twinkling, stroking his moustache as if wiping away the smiles.

‘But how so, Wulf? Surely he had lost every contest?’

‘Yes, but the giant then revealed that Thunderer’s opponents had not been as they had appeared. Thunor had in fact competed for speed of eating with Wildfire itself, which can consume entire forests at one sitting, And the enormous drinking horn had been connected to the oceans, and in each of his three draughts Thunor had succeeded in lowering the level of the sea by one inch.’

I laughed with him. ‘But what about the old woman who wrestled him to the ground?’

‘The crone was Thunderer’s most formidable opponent, for she who finally threw him to the ground was Old Age itself.’

Wulf cackled happily and crouched in front of the fire, lightly smothering the flames with wood ash and piling more wood carefully on top to ensure a slow burn that would last the night. I sat looking in wonder at my strange guide and thinking about his story. Begun as a jest at the expense of his Thunder god, it had ended by portraying him as powerful indeed, a being who could challenge the very forces of nature. But if Wulf had related the story to impress me with the might of his gods he had failed, for the Thunderer was not in command of those forces he had challenged. I felt secure in the knowledge that our Lord and Saviour was all-powerful, the true Creator and ruler of all forces.

I glanced up above the trees and gasped in amazement; the thunderclouds were dispersing like smoke in the wind and within a few moments they had pulled away to leave vast areas of clear sky. I was still trying to absorb the astonishing phenomenon when Wulf turned back towards me.

‘Now, the giants are very different,’ Wulf enthused, settling back against the log and brushing fire ash from his tunic. ‘The giants tower far above human size. They stand like mighty oaks, rooted to the ground but with their heads in the clouds. Usually they are as good-natured as lambs, but if they are provoked they can be very dangerous. When their wrath is kindled they rage and thunder, uproot trees and hurl rocks, squeeze water out of stones. And in temper they stamp on the ground with such force that their legs are buried up to the knees.’

He roared with laughter again, thumping his right foot on the ground in imitation of the giants. I chuckled at the prodigious deeds of strength he claimed for them, but listened warily for the point of the story. I thought he might try to turn a tale against the Lord Almighty, since he had already laughed at his own god.

‘I will tell you how big they are,’ he chuckled, leaning forward dramatically with his eyes brimming with mirth. ‘One day a giant had got something in his eye that pricked him; it was making his eye water. He tried to get it out with his finger, but that was too bulky. So he took a sheaf of corn and with that he managed to remove the speck in his eye. Then he picked it up and examined it on the end of his finger. “Why, it’s a fir-cone!” he said. “Who would have thought a little thing like that could have hurt me so?”’

We both laughed uproariously. The giants had taken on a sense of the ridiculous. Wulf continued his narrative in a singsong voice as if he were talking to a child.

‘Once there was a giant maiden. As she was walking in enormous bounds across the hills, she looked down and saw something moving. Bending to her knees, she picked up a ploughman with his horse and plough. Putting them on her lap, she watched with curiosity as they crawled and slipped about in panic. Finally she carried them to her mother and asked, “What kind of beetle can this be, mother, that I have found rooting up the ground in tiny furrows?”

I laughed out loud, but Wulf was not amused. He waited for me to quieten down, then continued: ‘So the mother looked at the creatures crawling on her daughter’s palm. “Put them away, child,” she said. “We have to leave this land soon, and they are to live here instead.”’

Wulf reported the mother’s reply in a tone of great sadness, his mood changing with startling suddenness. He sat in silence, his face mournful.

‘Wulf, would you prefer that the giants still ruled over these lands?’ I asked at last, unable to stand the uneasy silence.

‘They will again,’ he said, spreading his arms, hands open towards the sky. ‘That is the way of wyrd. Events flow in cycles like the tides of the ocean. The same thing will happen to us one day.’

I stared at him in disbelief.