Warriors of Ethandun (15 page)

He advanced cautiously through the house that was simply a larger and better version of the cottage he had come upon in the marshes. Flies buzzed around the remains of a chicken carcass that lay rotting on the floor; that accounted for the smell of decay, at least. He carefully inspected the remainder of the building: there was no one there. He paused just to be certain and held his breath.

Yes. He could hear something just below his feet. There must be a cellar below him. It was still difficult to
see – even with the light from the open door. Dan opened the wooden shutters of the only window and looked around again. There were no signs of struggle, though he doubted that it was the family who had thrown the remnants of their meal upon the neatly swept floor. It took him a moment to find the trapdoor and the wooden steps that led into the cellar. The smell of human waste was very strong, as if someone had been using it as a toilet. There was someone down there, he was sure of it. A slight movement to his right had him ready for immediate action. Someone hurled themselves towards him, knife blade in hand. Without thinking Dan threw off his attacker, who, rather stupidly, had come at him from below, giving Dan the advantage. There was a loud thud and a muffled cry as Dan's attacker landed hard on the cellar floor. The cry was a mistake too, as it told Dan exactly where to aim his blow. He began to feel his conscious control slipping away. He preferred to leave the dirty work to his berserker self. He took two paces forward while his attacker struggled to his feet. He was small, slight and would be easily dispatched. NO. He was small and slight because he was no warrior but a child. Dan's sword was poised to strike; with an enormous effort of will he did not send the blade home. He lowered his sword arm, panting with the effort involved in taking such an unnatural action. It was hard for Dan to keep his arm relaxed, harder still to speak. His blood was up and the wild fury surging through him demanded the satisfaction of a kill. It was a second before he had sufficient command of himself to form coherent words in any language.

‘What kind of man hides in the cellar while his comrades are killed?' Dan rasped, in Aelfred's tongue. ‘Put down the seax and I won't kill you.'

‘Killing me is not the worst that you people do,' his attacker replied. The voice was light and very youthful, definitely not a warrior's voice. Dan relaxed slightly: he had, after all, made the right call.

‘I am not that kind of man,' Dan answered, hoping that it was true. ‘Put down the knife.'

He was taken off guard when the owner of the young voice suddenly hurled himself forward, aiming low and knocking Dan over. There was a brief struggle before Dan knocked the seax from his opponent's hand and pressed it to his throat.

‘Come with me,' he said and pushed his attacker roughly forward so that he nearly fell. Dan was angry with himself; there had to be a middle way between killing everything that moved and being a complete fool. If his attacker had been heavier and stronger, he would have been in trouble there.

As they emerged into the grey light of the ground floor it became clear that his attacker was in fact a frightened young girl. She looked about thirteen.

‘Do you have a brother?'

She nodded. Dan said, ‘I think he may still be alive, but the older people who lived here are dead. Were they your parents?'

She nodded but didn't cry. Dan thought she looked like someone who had no tears left.

‘We heard the raiders coming. Da pushed me into the
cellar and told me not to come out until I'd heard no sound for a day. I didn't know how long a day was in the dark. Everyone knows what happens to girls when the Vikings come. Mother gave me the knife and told me to do whatever I had to do to live. Da put up a fight. I heard it, but when they didn't come for me I knew they were dead.' She supressed a sob and wiped her face with a grimy hand. ‘Cealin gave the warning – he yelled from halfway over the field and Da yelled back for him to run and hide and find the …' She tailed away, uncertain as to how much information she ought to give.

‘Your father told him to find the people who have sought sanctuary at Athelney?' Dan prompted.

‘Yes. Da thought that with us looking after their horses they might be keeping an eye on us, keeping us safe, but they weren't.'

‘I think that might change now,' Dan said. The girl did not look as if she believed him.

‘I'm not going to hurt you,' he said, but by her expression she remained unconvinced. Dan glanced down and saw the dark stain of another man's lifeblood discolouring his tunic; she was right to fear him.

He could not protect her from the sight of her parents sprawled on the ground and he didn't try. She ran to them and Dan turned away to give her some privacy. His own mother's death had been bad enough, even though it had been expected and she'd died neatly and bloodlessly in a hospital bed. Dan stepped away to put distance between himself and the girl's keening. What was he becoming that he could not offer human comfort to a grieving child?

He made himself turn back to her.

‘I will make sure that they are properly buried,' he said stiffly. He did not want to touch her for fear that she would misconstrue his intentions; instead he hung back, trying to suggest sympathy by his body language while keeping a wary eye out for the missing fifth man. There was no cover in the yard and he felt very exposed standing there next to the grieving girl while there could still be danger out there.

‘I have come to take some of the horses – for the King, for King Aelfred,' he said at length. ‘Once I have done that we can go and find your brother. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you.'

She took off her shawl and covered the faces of her parents with it.

‘Do you think it was quick?' she asked.

‘I'm sure it was,' Dan said, trying not to imagine what their last moments must have been like.

‘It is a while since we have seen a priest …'

Her voice trailed off as she noticed the other corpses on the ground. Braveheart's enthusiasm had made it a rather messy scene. The girl flinched at the sight.

‘I hope they suffered,' she said simply, and Dan did not know how to answer.

Dan struggled to control his impatience. He wanted to be off and on the road to Cippenham, but the Aenglisc dead had to be given a Christian burial, which entailed someone going back to fetch Asser, and then the bodies of the Viking dead had to be stacked into a pyre for burning. It was grisly work. Dan forced himself to help. He'd made the mess so he had to clear it up, but, more than that, he had to see what his madness had done. It sickened him. It was also obvious that something had to be done to secure the farmhouse and to guard it from further attack.

Aelfred looked grave when Dan relayed the girl's criticisms. ‘I have left undone those things I ought to have done. I have let these people down,' he said heavily.

Dan knew that it was not his place to advise this King he barely knew but old habits died hard. ‘Perhaps it would be good, Sire, to let those supporters in the surrounding area know that you still command, that you can still be relied on. If it is thought that you will stand by and let your nearest neighbours be massacred, then all support
will drain away and even those loyal to you will seek alliances with your enemy in order to protect themselves. You need to work secretly and carefully so that you have time to gather the fyrd, but no army will ever be gathered if you are seen as a spent force.' Dan clamped his mouth shut so that he didn't risk his life further by criticising the King. Aethelnoth said nothing, but something in his body language seemed to give his assent.

‘And you, Aethelnoth, you agree with this upstart?'

Aethelnoth's face flushed. ‘I do not like to think that we left these people undefended when we had men enough to watch over them,' he said carefully. ‘And we could have lost our mounts.'

‘What happened to the other farm workers? Did they run?' Aelfred asked.

Dan shrugged. ‘The girl will know and her brother. Their local knowledge could be useful – and their contacts.'

Aelfred nodded. ‘You are saying there is work to be done here, that my place is here, hidden away in a bog in Athelney?'

‘I would not dare to advise a king, Sire,' Dan said with false humility, ‘but it is my belief that if you are to be restored then you need to act like a king, to organise and dispatch others to work for you, to let people know that you are King still, even in exile. You have to fight the invaders, fight for your throne. It is true that you cannot do that with a few men in a bog in Athelney, but it is from this safe haven that you can begin to rebuild.'

‘You do not think this is best done by disguising myself
and seeing for myself what needs to be done?'

‘Why put yourself at risk to no purpose, my Lord? You need to gather support. You need people to believe that if they ally with you, you can protect them. A king wandering the country dressed as a scop – how will people feel such a man can help them? A king rebuilding a stronghold, sending out men to spy and to recruit, talking of the army being built and making it a reality – that is someone people might trust to help them.' Dan thought of Arturus and his endless planning and organising, his attention to detail. Dan had not liked him much, but he had admired his dedication.

There was a long pause. ‘But I have to act. I have to
do
something,' Aelfred muttered. The King looked pale and sickly, though the smell of the pyre and of his own gore-stained garments made Dan feel sick too. Aelfred turned away from his men to stare at the bleak marshland which hid Athelney. Dan could not see his face but he could tell by the man's dejected stance that he had made an unwelcome decision. When he turned back to face them, he looked grim-faced and determined.

‘My brother-in-law abandoned his kingdom for Rome and left Mercia to the Danes; my childhood friend Edmund of East Anglia wasted his life in a pointless, doomed attack. I do not want to fall into either trap. I have to build an army to win or my grandfather's heritage will be lost and all of this land will fall into the Danes' hands.'

He pulled at his thin beard distractedly. Dan felt for him. It was clear to Dan that Aelfred had been avoiding
this moment for some time. When he spoke again, it was with all the confidence of a ruler: ‘I have made my decision. It is my duty to defend the kingdom of Wessex, and, as God is my witness, that is what I will do. Aethelnoth, you will go on with Dan to Cippenham. You must try to catch up with our friend, the scop. You know his route through Wessex – follow it. Take horses and here, Aethelnoth, have my pack.' He eyed Braveheart doubtfully. ‘Is it wise to take the beast?'

‘I will sleep safer on the road knowing he is with us,' Aethelnoth answered firmly.

‘May God be with you. There is no need for you to await Asser's return and the burial rite. It is best that you use what is left of the day.' Aelfred did not let any of his longing to leave with them leak into his voice and Dan admired him for that.

Dan was about to ask about the children of the farm but Aelfred got there first: ‘The children's rights to their property will be respected, but for the moment I will put some of my own men to mount guard and tend to the horses and we will discuss a more permanent arrangement when they have recovered from the shock. The girl is of near marriageable age. It should not prove too difficult to arrange her a match and an appropriate bride price.'

Aelfred wished them well and explained in some detail what he wanted them to discover. It seemed that the reconnaissance party had shrunk to just the two of them, Dan and Aethelnoth, and the scop they would meet along the way. Dan had hoped for more backup. His plan was, after all, to rescue Ursula from under the nose of the
Danes and he was not sure that Aethelnoth was the man he most wished to have by his side. He seemed both wary and hostile, in spite of his earlier warmth, and Dan could not work it out. When they were out of earshot, Dan spoke.

‘There is no reason to fear me. I am not likely to try to kill you.'

Aethelnoth shrugged. ‘I had heard rumours of the Viking berserkers but had never seen one before.'

‘You said yourself that it was them or us!'

‘And now it is just you and me.'

Suddenly Dan understood. ‘You think I am a Dane?'

‘Why not? You speak their language and you fight like one. The King sets his store by trials and God's will, but I look to my own judgement, not God's. Your battle madness saved my skin and for that I'm grateful, but the more I have thought through what happened the less happy I am. You Danes do not seem to care for your own as we do. Guthrum slaughtered our hostages and did not spare a thought for his own people, whose lives were also forfeit. Perhaps you thought my trust was worth a few Danish lives.' He fingered his sword and Dan felt his own heartbeat begin to race. He might have to fight this man. He got ready, but Aethelnoth carried on talking. ‘I have never seen a Christian man fight like a beast. I do not trust you and I am not afraid of you.' That wasn't true – Dan could see that in the way Aethelnoth cringed from him – but Aethelnoth would not acknowledge his fear. ‘I will not let you betray the King. He is my oldest friend and the only one who has the right to contest the throne. He is the
only man who can save Wessex.'

‘I am not a Dane. Besides, I gave my oath to the King,' Dan said.

‘So they say,' Aethelnoth replied, unconvinced. ‘But you wouldn't be the first Viking to break an oath made to a God in whom you do not believe.'

Dan was at a loss as to how to respond. He had nothing further to say and simply followed Aethelnoth into the stables, with its familiar stench of dung and hay. He hadn't ridden for some time; it was not the kind of thing people like him did at home.

‘You take that gelding. He is the least likely to be spooked by the hound,' Aethelnoth said.