Amber Treasure, The (17 page)

Wallace halted the company
outside the great hall and went within for a few moments. He then emerged and
ordered us to go inside and find some food and drink, for the King was inviting
all warriors to his tables tonight. The council itself would be tomorrow.

Entering the smoky hall, I was
struck by the size of the cavernous interior. Two long tables stretched the
length of each wall. At both of these, scores of men were sitting on benches,
eating and drinking. Dozens of slaves were busy refilling ale tankards or
bringing in more food from doors that exited at the far end, into the kitchens.
A roaring fire burnt in a pit in the centre of the hall, its smoke finding
escape through a hole in the roof directly above. Opposite the entrance, a
third table stood at right angles to the others joining them at the far end.
Here again, warriors sat on either side, but these were clearly men of
importance, rank and wealth. Earl Harald was taken up to the King’s table,
whilst we were waved to spare benches on the side tables, but not before bowing
towards the King.

Wallace sat between my father,
and Lilla and I opposite them. The rest of the company, Cuthbert and Eduard
included, found places where they could. Wallace picked up a chicken leg, bit
into it and then used it to point towards the high table.

“That is King Aelle, Cerdic,” he
said, indicating a man in his sixties sitting in the exact centre, on a raised
chair. He appeared rather frail, which surprised me after all the tales I had
heard. I said this to my father and Wallace.

“Ah boy, but fate grants us all a
span of years. You should have seen him leading our armies almost twenty years
ago into Eoforwic. He was tall and strong then. If he appears weak now,
remember all that he achieved in taking command of a few scattered settlements
when he was just a youth, barely older than you, and forging Deira from them.
That was forty years ago now, when I was just a child,” Wallace said looking
admiringly at the older man.

Wallace went on to point out
other men of worth, including those who would no doubt command the companies of
our army, if war was really to come.

“Him you know, of course,” he
said, pointing to the overweight and unimpressive man sitting to the right of
the King. “Prince Aethelric, the King’s eldest son, at least of those that
live. Did you know that Firebrand’s real name was Aethelric also?”

I had not known that. So
Aethelric had been the name of Firebrand of Bernicia − the old king and
father to their current king, Aethelfrith. It seemed odd that Bernicia and
Deira should have princes and kings of the same name. I mentioned this.

“Not really, Cerdic, Ric is a
common name and Aethel is, of course, a noble title. It means nobly born
− the nobly born Ric if you like,” Wallace explained, amiably.

Next to him, Wallace told me, sat
Herecic, Aethelric’s son, who was perhaps ten years old. One place further
along, I could see a boy who was about the same age, or perhaps slightly older.

“That is Prince Edwin. He is
Aelle’s youngest son and from what I have heard as strong-willed a lad as you
would want to meet. Coming on well in his studies of fighting too,” Wallace added.
I looked at Edwin for a moment and then away. I suppose when you consider how
long he and I were to spend together in just a few years, fate should have
given me a sign that he would be of importance to me and indeed all of
Northumbria. However, it did not and instead I found myself gazing at an
attractive, dark-haired and finely dressed lady of about eighteen years, who
was pouring wine into Aelle’s goblet.

“Yes, she is pretty eh, Cerdic?”
said Wallace slyly. Cuthbert and Eduard heard this and sniggered and my father
grinned at me.

“I see you are growing up, boy,”
he said, “but such ladies are not for farmers’ sons. Tell the boy who she is,
Wallace.”

“That is the Princess Acha,
Aelle’s only daughter, Cerdic, and well beyond your hopes. Mind you, I approve
of your tastes.”

“Who is the man to the left of
the King?” I asked, mainly to change the subject. I pointed at a tall, broad-shouldered
man, whose once blond hair was touched by silver and grey. He was looking
around the room with a serious, even critical expression, as if the King’s
warriors were treating life a bit too lightly.

“Earl Sabert. He has lands east
along the coasts and brings two companies from the Wolds and Moors,” Wallace
frowned, “be careful round him, Cerdic, he does not suffer fools gladly and has
little tolerance for youth.”

I shrugged and drank some more
ale. I didn’t see that I had any reason to have dealings with the Earl of the
Eastern Marches.

We ate and drank into the early
hours and then found a corner of the hall to sleep in. After the horrors of the
last few days, the drink and warmth allowed me to drift into a pleasant sleep.

The following morning, I woke
with a horrendous pain in my head and a sour taste in my mouth. Around me,
groans and curses suggested that not a few others felt as I did. I dragged
myself to my feet, pulled on my tunic, boots and cloak and went out into the
cold dawn to breathe some fresh air and to have a piss.

Soon others stirred and we began
to gather in small groups and talk of war and, in the case of many from the
Wicstun Company, revenge on Elmet. A little later that morning, the warriors
still inside the great hall were evicted and the lords gathered to discuss the
situation. My father and Wallace attended, but the rest of us from Wicstun
along with most of the other warriors who had been there when we had arrived
last night, were left outside.

Grettir decided that we might as
well practice with our arms and indeed, with companies from elsewhere in Deira
present to drill with, we were able to assemble for the first time as a larger
army. We practised moving in a close formation of three hundred or more men in
three ranks. Those boys like Cuthbert, who had proven more adept with bow or
sling, were selected for this role in battle and they would try running
forward, hitting mock targets and then scuttling back to shelter behind us.

Towards noon, Lilla came and
found me.

“Gods, but you look a mess,”
Lilla said.

“Thanks: so do you,” I lied.
Lilla always looked immaculate, even after a battle.

“Come on,” he said, holding out a
clean tunic then tussling a hand through my hair and dragging it into some
shape. “Put this on; the King wants to see you.”

I froze in the act of
straightening my clothes.

“What?”

“You heard me, seems he wants to
hear from the hero of Calcaria,” Lilla said, biting into an apple.

“Why does he think I’m a hero?”

“Oh, that would be because I told
him,” he mumbled, around a mouthful of apple.

I stared at the bard, but he just
held up his hands.

“It’s what I do, Cerdic ... you
know, tell stories. That’s why I came to Elmet − I did tell you.”

“Huh! Very well, but what does he
want to know?”

“What you know about One Eye,
Elmet’s army, that kind of thing.”

So there I was − summoned
into the council of Aelle. The hall had been cleared of the debris of the
previous night’s feast. All the tables had been moved to the sides of the hall
and chairs brought out for the lords to sit on, in two lines down each side.
They stared at me as I walked in, so I searched the room for friendly faces.
There was Lord Harald nodding at me in recognition and Lord Wallace, looking
alert and attentive. Next to him sat my father. There were thirty other lords
or masters of lands, both large and small. Some wore chain armour as if they
had already decided that war was coming. Sabert was an exception. He did not
wear armour, but sat with a dull, dark green cloak wrapped round him. He
studied me with a sceptical expression as I approached the King.

I looked now towards the other
end of the hall. Aelle was there, sitting in a high-backed chair and to his
right stood Aethelric, his head bent as he whispered in his father’s ear. When
he saw me he gave that vague smile that a man gives when he feels he ought to
recognise someone, but can’t quite recall where they met. He said something to
his father and now Aelle looked up at me. His body was indeed frail, but in his
eyes was an intensity like the glow from a blacksmith’s forge. I could well
imagine how he had once inspired a nation. One day soon, alas, the fire would
die, but having seen him in his dotage I felt somehow sad that I had not known him
when he was young.

Lilla and I stopped in front of
him and we both bowed.

“Sire, this is Cerdic, son of
Cenred of the Villa,” Lilla introduced me.

Aelle nodded.

“I knew your uncle, lad. He was a
fine man and maybe the bravest warrior I ever knew ...” he said and as his
voice trailed off, the light in his eyes dimmed for a moment and he seemed to be
looking somewhere else – to another time perhaps, when he had been younger.
Suddenly, they snapped back into focus and he continued to speak. “So then,
Cerdic, Lilla has already sung your praises.”

I coloured at that and glanced at
the bard.

“But now, please tell me in your
own words what you saw in Elmet.”

So I did. I told of going to
Elmet and of the capture of the company. I told of meeting One Eye, the
treachery of Hussa – but without mentioning he was my brother - and the courage
of Aedann; of how I had felt despair about Mildrith and finally, I described the
army I had seen from afar.

They all listened to me in silence,
but all the while I spoke, Aelle kept those burning eyes on me, not commenting
and not giving any indication if he approved or disapproved. After I had
finished he nodded once, then at last he spoke.

“It is a pity you did not kill
that Hussa when you saw him.”

“I could not, Sire: but I will
the next time.”

I noticed my father’s expression
as I said these words. He was uncomfortable. Was he thinking about Hussa’s
mother? Was he realising that one of his sons might soon have to fight – and
kill - the other one?

I was dismissed at that point,
but as I walked towards the door, I paid close attention to what was said next.

“I ... I think it is a trap,”
stuttered Aethelric. “Samlen’s army is a trick. He is trying to draw us away
north. We should march on Loidis, like we planned to.”

“Catraeth, my son, you are
forgetting Catraeth. Every indication is that Samlen is going there. That is
where the danger is.”

Now, a new voice spoke, dripping
with scepticism.

“Sire, you place a lot on the
words of a mere boy. Dare we commit our army on some wild goose chase on the
back of what this youth might have seen?”

I turned at the doorway and
glanced towards the voice. The speaker was Earl Sabert. He was facing the King
but his arm was stretched out and pointing at me. Then, the doors slammed shut
leaving me standing outside, feeling angry and ridiculed. More than that, it
left me wondering where and what Catraeth was.

At midday, a meal of bread and
dried meat was provided and then, in the afternoon, we held a wrestling competition.
Cuthbert was beaten in the first round, but Eduard and I were able to win
several bouts. In the end, a great brute from the Wolds, named Alfred, defeated
Eduard and won.

Finally, as dusk approached, the
news came that a decision to call out the Fyrd had been reached. All the men
were called to order and instructed to be ready to march at dawn. Little detail
was given beyond that. Wallace and my father were still inside the hall, but
Lilla found me and told me that my father and he, along with a dozen other men,
were being sent out east on fast horses to call in the Fyrd from the outlying
settlements along the Humber and up in moors. That came as a shock. I had
assumed that I would be travelling with them both, but now we were going our
separate ways.

That night, the food was simpler
and less ale was served. I saw my father briefly as he came to get his weapons
and equipment. He looked anxious, but he would not at first speak of why, saying
only that he had to leave at once. He clasped me to him, wished me luck and
turned away, but then stopped and glanced back at me.

“Cerdic, I am going away tonight
with Lilla, to the East.”

“I know, Father − to call
in the Fyrd.”

He shook his head. “No −
well, at least we will do that on the way.”

“The way where?”

“To the coast son, we are to get
to Scearburgh by dawn and find a fast ship. Then, we are to sail north, to
Bernicia. I hope to reach it tomorrow night.”

“Bernicia, that means ...
Aethelfrith?”

He nodded.

“The King told me I was injured
and could not fight, but could serve him best by persuading Aethelfrith to come
to our aid.”

Confused now, I frowned at that
news.

“You’re not to tell anyone, but
the rumour that Owain is assembling a vast army is true. The biggest in a
lifetime: two thousand spears at least.”

I gasped and Eduard, sitting at a
fire nearby, looked over at me anxiously.

“Two thousand: but that’s
impossible!” I whispered.

“Aelle does not think so. His
spies tell him this army is huge and it is coming, Cerdic. It is coming within
a few days and Deira cannot beat it alone. I have to persuade Aethelfrith that
we Angles must unite or die separately.”

I nodded.

“Be careful, Father.”

“I will. Besides − I have
Lilla. He knows Aethelfrith and will help. Probably bore me with tales of
Cerdic the hero, as well.”

I smiled at that, but then
noticed my father was still looking worried.

“There is another thing. Aelle is
too old to lead the army. He is giving command to Aethelric.”

My heart sank at that news.
Hesitant, vague, forgetful Aethelric was in charge of the army!

“Aethelric!” I hissed the word
and saw men turning to look at me, suspiciously. I turned away from them and
whispered, “Aethelric? Are you sure?”