Warriors of the Storm (11 page)

He blew it hurriedly, and my men, who had been disarming the enemy, ran to mount their horses.

‘Lord Uhtred!’ Æthelflaed protested.

‘If they’ve surrendered,’ I said, ‘then the fort is ours. If the fort is not ours then they haven’t surrendered.’ I looked from her to Fraomar. ‘So which is it?’

Neither answered.

‘Finan! Bring the men!’ I shouted, and, ignoring Æthelflaed and Fraomar, spurred back southwards.

Back to Eads Byrig.

I should have guessed. It was Haesten. He had a tongue that could turn turds into gold and he was using it on Merewalh.

I found the two men, each attended by a dozen companions, a hundred paces outside the fort on the western side where the slope was gentler. The two sides stood a few paces apart beneath their respective banners. Merewalh, of course, had Æthelflaed’s flag showing the goose of Saint Werburgh, while Haesten, instead of his usual skull on a pole, was flaunting a new standard, this one a grey flag on which was sewn a white cross. ‘He’s shameless!’ I called to Finan as I spurred Tintreg up the slope.

Finan laughed. ‘He’s a slippery bastard, lord.’

The slippery bastard had been talking animatedly as we came from the trees, but as soon as he saw me he fell silent and stepped back into the protective company of his men. He greeted me by name as I arrived, but I ignored him, turning Tintreg in the space between the two sides and then sliding from the saddle. ‘Why haven’t you occupied the fort?’ I demanded of Merewalh as I threw the stallion’s reins to Godric.

‘I …’ he began, then looked past me. Æthelflaed and her entourage were approaching fast and he plainly preferred to await their arrival before answering.

‘Has the bastard surrendered?’ I asked.

‘The Jarl Haesten …’ Merewalh began again, then shrugged as if he neither knew what to say nor understood what was happening.

‘It’s an easy question!’ I said threateningly. Merewalh was a good man and a stalwart fighter, but he looked desperately uncomfortable, his eyes flicking towards the half-dozen priests who stood around him. Father Ceolnoth and his toothless twin Ceolberht were there, as was Leofstan, all of them looking extremely discomfited by my sudden arrival. ‘Has he surrendered?’ I asked again, slowly and loudly.

Merewalh was saved from the question by Æthelflaed’s arrival. She pushed her mare through the priests. ‘If you have things to say, Lord Uhtred,’ she spoke icily from her saddle, ‘then say them to me.’

‘I just want to know whether this piece of shit has surrendered,’ I said, pointing at Haesten.

It was Father Ceolnoth who answered. ‘My lady,’ the priest said, pointedly ignoring me, ‘the Jarl Haesten has agreed to swear loyalty to you.’

‘He has done what?’ I asked.

‘Quiet!’ Æthelflaed snapped. She was still in her saddle, dominating us. Her men, at least a hundred and fifty, had followed her from the river bank and now stood their horses lower down the slope. ‘Tell me what you have agreed,’ she demanded of Father Ceolnoth.

Ceolnoth gave me a nervous glance, then looked back to Æthelflaed. ‘The Jarl Haesten is a Christian, my lady, and he seeks your protection.’

At least three of us all began to speak at once, but Æthelflaed clapped her hands for silence. ‘Is this true?’ she demanded of Haesten.

Haesten bowed to her, then fingered the silver cross he wore over his mail. ‘Thank God, lady, it is true.’ He spoke quietly, humbly, with convincing sincerity.

‘Lying bastard,’ I growled.

He ignored me. ‘I have found redemption, lady, and I come to you as a supplicant.’

‘He is redeemed, my lady,’ a tall man standing next to Haesten spoke firmly. ‘We are prepared, my lady, nay, we are eager to swear our loyalty,’ the tall man said, ‘and as fellow Christians we beseech you for protection.’ He used the English tongue and spoke respectfully, bowing slightly to Æthelflaed as he finished. She looked surprised, and no wonder because the tall man appeared to be a Christian priest, or at least he was wearing a long black robe belted with rope and had a wooden cross hanging at his breast.

‘Who are you?’ Æthelflaed asked.

‘Father Haruld, my lady.’

‘Danish?’

‘I was born here in Britain,’ he said, ‘but my parents came across the sea.’

‘And you’re a Christian?’

‘By the grace of God, yes.’ Haruld was stern, dark-faced, with flecks of grey at his temples. He was not the first Dane I had met who had converted, nor was he the first to become a Christian priest. ‘I have been a Christian since I was a child,’ he told Æthelflaed. He sounded grave and confident, but I noticed his fingers were compulsively clasping and unclasping. He was nervous.

‘And you’re telling me that piece of rancid lizard shit is a Christian too?’ I jerked my head at Haesten.

‘Lord Uhtred!’ Æthelflaed said warningly.

‘I baptised him myself,’ Haruld answered me with dignity, ‘thank God.’

‘Amen,’ Ceolnoth put in loudly.

I stared into Haesten’s eyes. I had known him all his adult life, indeed he owed me that life because I had saved it. He had sworn loyalty to me back then and I had believed him because he had a trustworthy face and an earnest manner, but he had broken every oath he ever swore. He was a weasel of a man, cunning and deadly. His ambitions far outreached his achievements, and for that he blamed me because fate had decreed that I would thwart him time after time. The last time had been at Beamfleot where I had destroyed his army and burned his fleet, but Haesten’s fate was to escape from every disaster. And here he was again, apparently trapped at Eads Byrig, but smiling at me as though we were the oldest of friends. ‘He’s no more a Christian than I am,’ I snarled.

‘My lady,’ Haesten looked at Æthelflaed and then, astonishingly, dropped to his knees, ‘I swear by our Saviour’s sacrifice that I am a true Christian.’ He spoke humbly, shaking with intense feeling. There were even tears in his eyes. He suddenly spread his arms wide and turned his face to the sky. ‘May God strike me dead this very moment if I lie!’

I drew Serpent-Breath, her blade scraping loud and fast on her scabbard’s throat.

‘Lord Uhtred!’ Æthelflaed called in alarm. ‘No!’

‘I was about to do your god’s work,’ I said, ‘and strike him dead. You’d stop me?’

‘God can do his own work,’ Æthelflaed said tartly, then looked back to the Danish priest. ‘Father Haruld, are you convinced of Jarl Haesten’s conversion?’

‘I am, my lady. He shed tears of contrition and tears of joy at his baptism.’

‘Praise God,’ Father Ceolnoth whispered.

‘Enough!’ I said. I still held Serpent-Breath. ‘Why aren’t our men inside the fort?’

‘They will be!’ Ceolnoth said waspishly. ‘It is agreed!’

‘Agreed?’ Æthelflaed’s voice was very guarded, and it was clear she suspected the priests had overstepped their authority in making any agreement without her approval. ‘What has been agreed?’ she asked.

‘The Jarl Haesten,’ Ceolnoth spoke very carefully, ‘begged that he might swear his loyalty to you, my lady, at the Easter mass. He desires this so that the joy of our Lord’s resurrection will consecrate this act of reconciliation.’

‘I don’t give a rat’s turd if he waits till Eostre’s feast,’ I said, ‘so long as we occupy the fort now!’

‘It will be handed over on Easter Sunday,’ Ceolnoth said. ‘That was agreed!’

‘Easter day?’ Æthelflaed asked, and any man who knew her well could have detected the unhappiness in her voice. She was no fool, but nor was she ready to discard the hope that Haesten truly was a Christian.

‘It will be a cause for rejoicing,’ Ceolnoth urged her.

‘And who are you to make that agreement?’ I demanded.

‘It is a matter for Christians to decide,’ Ceolnoth insisted, looking at Æthelflaed in hope of her support.

Æthelflaed, in turn, looked at me, then to Haesten. ‘Why,’ she asked, ‘should we not occupy the fort now?’

‘I agreed—’ Ceolnoth began weakly.

‘My lady,’ Haesten intervened, shuffling forward on his knees, ‘it is my sincerest wish that all my men be baptised at Easter. But some, a few, are reluctant. I need time, Father Haruld needs time! We need time to convince those reluctant few of the saving grace of our Lord Jesus Christ.’

‘Twisted bastard,’ I said.

No one spoke for a moment. ‘I swear this is true,’ Haesten said humbly.

‘Whenever he says that,’ I looked at Æthelflaed, ‘you can tell that he’s lying.’

‘And if Father Ceolnoth were to visit us,’ Haesten went on, ‘or better still, Father Leofstan, and if they were to preach to us, that would be a help and a blessing, my lady.’

‘I would be happy to …’ Ceolnoth began, but stopped when Æthelflaed raised a hand. She said nothing for a while, but just gazed down at Haesten. ‘You propose a mass baptism?’ she asked.

‘All my men, my lady!’ Haesten said eagerly, ‘all of them coming to Christ’s mercy and to your service.’

‘How many men, you turd?’ I asked Haesten.

‘There’s just a few, Lord Uhtred, who persist in their paganism. Twenty men, perhaps, or thirty? But with God’s help we shall convert them!’

‘How many men in the fort, you miserable bastard?’

He hesitated, then realised that hesitation was a mistake, and smiled. ‘Five hundred and eighty, Lord Uhtred.’

‘That many!’ Father Ceolnoth exulted. ‘It will be a light to lighten the gentiles!’ he pleaded with Æthelflaed. ‘Imagine it, my lady, a mass conversion of pagans! We can baptise them in the river!’

‘You can drown the bastards,’ I muttered.

‘And my lady,’ Haesten, still on his knees, clasped his hands as he gazed up at Æthelflaed. His face was so trustworthy and his voice so earnest. He was the best liar I had ever met in all my life. ‘I would invite you into the fort now! I would pray with you there, my lady, I would sing God’s praises alongside you! But those few of my men are still bitter. They might resist. A little time is all I beg, a little time for God’s grace to work on those bitter souls.’

‘You treacherous piece of arse slime,’ I snarled at him.

‘And if it will convince you,’ Haesten said humbly, ignoring me, ‘I will swear loyalty to you now, my lady, this very minute!’

‘God be praised,’ Father Ceolberht lisped.

‘There’s one small problem,’ I said, and everyone looked at me. ‘He can’t swear an oath to you, my lady.’

Æthelflaed gave me a sharp look. ‘Why not?’

‘Because he swore loyalty to another lord, my lady, and that lord has not yet released him from his oath.’

‘I was released from my oath to Jarl Ragnall when I gave my allegiance to Almighty God,’ Haesten said.

‘But not from the oath you swore to me,’ I said.

‘But you are also a pagan, Lord Uhtred,’ Haesten said slyly, ‘and Jesus Christ absolves me of all allegiance to pagans.’

‘This is true!’ Father Ceolnoth said excitedly. ‘He has cast off the devil, my lady! He has spurned the devil and all his works! A newly converted Christian is absolved of all oaths made to pagans, the church insists on it.’

Æthelflaed still pondered. Finally she looked at Leofstan. ‘You haven’t spoken, father.’

Leofstan half smiled. ‘I promised the Lord Uhtred I would not interfere with his work if he did not interfere with mine.’ He offered Father Ceolnoth an apologetic smile. ‘I rejoice in the conversion of pagans, my lady, but the fate of a fortress? Alas, that is beyond my competence. Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s, my lady, and the fate of Eads Byrig is Caesar’s affair or, more strictly, yours.’

Æthelflaed nodded abruptly and gestured at Haesten. ‘But do you believe this man?’

‘Believe him?’ Leofstan frowned. ‘May I question him?’

‘Do,’ Æthelflaed commanded.

Leofstan limped to Haesten and knelt in front of him. ‘Give me your hands,’ Leofstan said quietly and waited as Haesten dutifully obeyed. ‘Now tell me,’ the bishop-elect still spoke softly, ‘what you believe.’

Haesten blinked back his tears. ‘I believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth,’ he spoke scarcely above a whisper, ‘and in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father; God of God, Light of Light!’ His voice had risen as he said the last few words, and then he seemed to choke. ‘I believe, father!’ he pleaded, and the tears ran down his face again. He shook his head. ‘The Lord Uhtred is right, he is right! I have been a sinner. I have broken oaths. I have offended heaven! Yet Father Haruld prayed with me, he prayed for me, and my wife prayed, and, praise God, I believe!’

‘Praise God indeed,’ Leofstan said.

‘Does Ragnall know you’re a Christian?’ I asked harshly.

‘It was necessary to deceive him,’ Haesten said humbly.

‘Why?’

Haesten still had his hands in Leofstan’s grip. ‘I was driven to take refuge on Mann,’ he was answering my question, but looking up at Æthelflaed as he spoke, ‘and it was on that island that Father Haruld converted me. Yet we were surrounded by pagans who would kill us if they knew. I prayed!’ He looked back to Leofstan. ‘I prayed for guidance! Should I stay and convert the heathen? Yet God’s answer was to bring my followers here and offer our swords to the service of Christ.’

‘To the service of Ragnall,’ I said harshly.

‘The Jarl Ragnall did demand my service,’ Haesten was speaking to Æthelflaed again, ‘but I saw God’s will in that demand! God had offered us a way off the island! I had no ships, I only had faith in Christ Jesus and in Saint Werburgh.’

‘Saint Werburgh!’ Æthelflaed exclaimed.

‘My dear wife prays to her, my lady,’ Haesten said, sounding so innocent. Somehow the slimy bastard had learned of Æthelflaed’s veneration of the goose-frightener.

‘You lying bastard,’ I said.

‘His repentance is sincere,’ Ceolnoth insisted.

‘Father Leofstan?’ Æthelflaed asked.

‘I want to believe him, my lady!’ Leofstan said earnestly. ‘I want to believe that this is a miracle to accompany my enthronement! That on Easter day we will have the joy of bringing a pagan horde into the service of Jesus Christ!’

‘This is Christ’s doing!’ Father Ceolberht said through his toothless gums.

Æthelflaed still pondered, staring down at the two kneeling men. One part of her surely knew I was right, but she was also swayed by the piety she had inherited from her father. And by Leofstan’s eagerness to believe. Leofstan was her choice. She had persuaded the Archbishop of Contwaraburg to appoint him, she had written letters to bishops and abbots praising Leofstan’s sincerity and glowing faith, and she had sent money to shrines and churches, all to sway opinion in Leofstan’s favour. The church might have preferred a more worldly man who could expand the see’s land-holdings and extort more cash from northern Mercia’s nobles, but Æthelflaed had wanted a saint. And that saint was now depicting Haesten’s conversion as a sign of heavenly approval of her choice. ‘Think, my lady,’ Leofstan at last let go of Haesten’s hands, and, still on his knees, turned to Æthelflaed, ‘think what rejoicing there will be when a pagan leads his men to Christ’s throne!’ And that idea seduced her too. Her father had always forgiven Danes who converted, even allowing some to settle in Wessex, and Alfred had often claimed that the fight was not to establish Englaland but to convert the heathen to Christ, and Æthelflaed saw this mass conversion of heathen Danes as a sign of God’s power.