Amber Treasure, The (19 page)

“He is Cerdic, son of Cenred of
the Villa, Sire.”

The Prince looked at me more
closely and raised his eyebrows. My cheeks flushed red and I said a quiet
prayer to Thunor to help me control my speech in the future.

Aethelric nodded, seemed about to
speak, but then looked blank and turned to Earl Harald. “Erm ... Harald, can
you explain it to the lad?” He spoke vaguely, adding, “You are better at that
kind of thing.”

“And possibly he can remember it,
as well,” Eduard muttered under his breath, although a few of the company must
have heard and seeing the grins on their faces, I thought that more than a few
agreed with him. Sabert seemed to hear it as well and looking sharply towards
me and Eduard, seemed about to say something, but just then Harald nodded at
the Prince and waved at me to come forward.

“Come here, young Cerdic, you
seem keen to understand our plans and policies. Let’s see how well you do.”

I nodded and shuffled forward.
The company was very quick to move out of the way, I noticed.

Harald pointed at a low hillock
just outside the camp, beside the road. “Stand up there and look westward then
tell me what you can see,” he ordered.

I did as I was told. To my front
I saw fairly flat fields, empty this early in the season. Here and there were
scattered copses, but mostly it was open countryside. Beyond the fields I could
see the dark shapes of the Pennines forming a barrier from far to the south to way
beyond my sight to the north. I commented on this.

“Now then, turn and look behind
you,” Harald ordered.

I did as instructed and faced
east. A river ran from north to south not far from the road and beyond this
were more fields. I could see beyond the fields, dim and distant, the bulky
forms of the moors. Not as high as the mountains to the west, but still
prominent over the low ground where I stood.

“Finally, look north and tell me
what you see there.”

“The countryside is less open,” I
said, observing that the scattered copses were denser and the flat fields gave
way to rising ground as it climbed towards the numerous hills I could see running
east to the moors and west to the Pennines. The river snaked from the northwest
towards the southeast on the far side of the road: the flat, straight Roman
road.

I described all this, and Harald
nodded at me.

“Up ahead in those hills and
copses is Catraeth. It sits on this road on either side of a stone bridge that
crosses the river as it comes down from the mountains. Beyond the river −
not far beyond mind you − the road divides. Dere Street continues to the North,
through the valley of the River Tees and up towards Bernicia. The branch runs
west through the Pennines to Rheged. Between the branches a few miles away from
here − in the angle as it were − stands an old earthen fort, what
we call Stanwick Camp,” he paused and then he raised his eyebrows, “Have you
heard of it?”

I shook my head.

“I have, my Lord, but I have
never been there,” Grettir said behind me.

“Splendid, well done,” piped in
Aethelric, evidently eager to be involved.

Grettir bowed to the Prince, who
apparently had nothing further to add, as he then nodded at Harald to go on.
Sabert tapped his foot impatiently.

“Sire, we need to leave this
nonsense and get on with our counsel. We are wasting our time,” the earl
moaned.

 “I don’t think so,” said Harald.
“The lad wants to understand and I think that is fine. Anyway,” he said,
ignoring Sabert’s affronted grunt and continuing, “this was of old a garrison
to defend the pathways and has again been turned into such. All the land ahead
of us was Welsh − the Kingdom of the Pennines. During the last wars a few
years ago, we took advantage of the weakness of the Welsh and their inability
to respond and captured this land, just as we did with Eoforwic.”

He walked up to join me at the
top of the small mound and put his hand on my shoulder.

“We have heard from our spies and
agents that the Welsh have recovered from their defeats under Bernicia. Their
strength has grown and they are determined to strike back at us. You have all
heard rumours of armies training, equipping and gathering. Their great kings
make talk of war. Their bards Taliesin and Aneirin sing of heroes of the past
and urge their warriors onto greater deeds. And … we hear mention of a word.”

He took his hand away from my
shoulder and pointed north, “The word is ‘Catraeth’. You see Cerdic, Catraeth
lies in a very important location. It sits on the main road from Deira to
Bernicia through this valley between the mountains and the moors. It also sits
on the main road from Rheged to what was once the Kingdom of the Pennines.
Whoever holds Catraeth, dominates this region. If the Welsh of Elmet,
Srathclyde, Rheged and Manau Goddodin can take it, they would divide Bernicia
from Deira again. Once more, they would become the most powerful lords in the North
and they would be a threat to us. We would not be safe in our land: not with
our fertile plains and our valleys full of grain to tempt them south, to
reclaim what they believe is theirs.”

“But, my Lord, what of Elmet?” I
asked.

“Ah yes, what of Elmet? Of
course, that is the only Welsh land east of the mountains now. It is also a
threat, as you know only too well.” He looked at me and gave a smile of acknowledgement.
And it seemed to me that he was aware of the common man’s difficulties as well
as moving in the counsels of kings. What a king he could have made, had he been
prince and not Aethelric.

He went on, “Elmet has kept
within its borders until recently. But now they attack us without warning and
with a fairly small force: one hundred men or so. A heavy raid no doubt, but
hardly a threat. Surely they know we would attack them in return. But, that is
the point. We think it was a mistake. We think that Samlen raided the Villa and
Wicstun because of greed and without the blessing of Ceredig”

My eyes widened and in my mind I
saw my mother’s jewellery and a picture of Hussa taunting me with that earring.
Harald seemed to read my thoughts.

“Yes Cerdic, Elmet is part of the
northern Welsh alliance. No doubt Elmet has been promised lands in Deira in
return for its part in the war. Samlen was already assembling the army and was
kicking his heels at Calcaria, itching to attack us. It did not take much of an
excuse: just the tales of a traitor babbling about ‘amber treasure,’ to save
his own skin or line his own pockets. Just that and he was over that border in
a flash.”

Harald paused and looked at the Prince,
as if to see if he wanted to add anything, but Aethelric was smiling and
nodding inanely, so he turned back to me.

“Actually this Hussa has done us
a favour you know, Cerdic,” then seeing my frown, he held up his hand. “Oh, I
don’t mean I approve. It’s just that had it not been for the raid and as a
result Wallace taking this company into Elmet, we would not have seen that army
heading north. We would not have known to send scouts to follow it. Therefore,
we would not have realised it was heading towards Catraeth. That knowledge
confirms to us all the suspicions we already had. Hussa, in effect, has tipped
the Welsh hand.”

Then he frowned. “Still, it will
be a hard battle,” and dropping his voice added, “I hope your father will
succeed in his mission ....” Again addressing all the company, he added; “Now
we must press on. The Prince and I await Wallace’s return to plan the battle.
The battle may have already begun and it will be desperate. Tomorrow, we march
to Catraeth!”

I watched him walk away with
Aethelric and Sabert towards the Prince’s tent. I then turned to look at the company
and saw that some important facts were sinking in. We were not just attacking
Elmet and facing its five hundred men, but a much larger force. The company did
not know it was two thousand strong, but they were not stupid and knew the task
ahead was going to be hard. Some of them glared at me, perhaps wishing they
could have been left in ignorance a few hours longer.

“You had to ask, didn’t you?”
said Eduard, as I moved down the mound and came to stand beside him. Cuthbert,
ashen-faced, said nothing but just swallowed hard.

The following day we continued on
our way. Grettir had told us earlier what Harald had repeated: that we were now
beyond the borders of what, before a few years ago was Deira and within the old
Kingdom of Pennine. The local folk kept away from us, but those I saw had the
dark hair of the Welsh. Wallace galloped into the camp that night and went
straight in to see Harald, Sabert and Aethelric.

I wished I could eavesdrop on
that conversation, perhaps overhear some words of comfort to share with
everyone, but Cuthbert and I were given guard duty on the road a few hundred
yards from the camp. Just before midnight, he pointed out to me a small patrol
of warriors, armed with bows and spears, standing on a hill half a mile from
us. They observed the camp for a few moments and then disappeared into the
gloom.

I stayed at the hill, but I told
Cuthbert to run to Harald and report what we had seen. While he was gone it
grew darker and sounds of the animals of the night came to me across the fields.
I felt exposed and very alone. The trees and bushes grew shadows and their
shapes distorted and became in my mind sentinels of Samlen’s army lurking out
there, waiting to attack and drag me away to him. It was a relief when a few
minutes later, Cuthbert, Harald, Aethelric and Wallace joined me. I pointed out
where the warriors had been observing us. As I did, we noticed that two of of
them had returned. Making no attempt to hide themselves they came towards us
and as they got closer we saw they were each leading a horse.  These then were
not the warriors we thought we had seen. They walked down the hill, holding their
hands away from their sides to show they were no threat.

“They’re ours,” Harald muttered and
motioned them forward.

When they came up, we saw they
were indeed Angles, who then bowed in respect to Aethelric. One of them then
spoke.

“My Prince, I come from Stanwick
Camp. I am asked to urge you to hurry on as quickly as you can. Our enemy has
come with many men and my Lord believes that an assault on his fortress is imminent.
Indeed, I fear it may already have fallen.”

“How long ago did you leave the
fortress?” Wallace asked.

“We left when the sun was sinking
in the sky, perhaps three hours ago. We have ridden hard without stopping,”
said the messenger.

“Then even at a fast march it
will take us the best part of a day to reach the camp,” Wallace calculated.

“My Lord begs you to come fast,”
urged the messenger once more.

Aethelric looked at the messenger
and then back to our camp.

“I … I don’t know. I … think the
men need to sleep.”

He looked at Harald and seemed to
be pleading for advice.

Harald thought for a moment. “I
suggest, Sire, that we wake the army just before dawn, in about four hours. We
will march straight away thereafter. If we push on without rest we can reach
Stanwick camp by some time in the afternoon.”

Aethelric nodded.

“That sounds fair to me.”

Harald bit his lip. He seemed to
be struggling not to shout at the Prince to be more decisive, but instead he
turned to me. Cuthbert and I were sent to get some rest and Eduard and Aedann
were woken and went off grumbling, to watch the road. I found it difficult to
sleep at first. Images of Samlen One Eye wielding my uncle’s sword, or holding
the amber treasure or … caressing Mildrith came into my mind and tormented me.
But, sleep I did and I felt oddly refreshed when Cuthbert shook my shoulder. It
was still dark, but in the east there was a faint red glow: the dawn was
coming. Just as before, I wondered if I or any of us would see the sun set at
Calcaria this day.

Then, our company rose and each
man drank a little ale or water. Some chewed on salted meat or smoked cheese. I
ate an apple I had picked from an orchard we had passed the previous day. Soon
we assembled on the road and Aethelric, now mounted again, waved us on north.

We marched on, while the sun rose
to our right over the dark moors, reached its zenith then rolled slowly round
to our rear.

After we had crossed the narrow
stone bridge at Catraeth, our guides led us along the road a little further
until it branched. We turned northwest, towards the mountains. After a mile or
two, we left the Roman road and veered off it to the right. Eventually the
track we were following climbed a gentle slope and levelled out. Harald halted
the army a little way down the slope and the captains of the company, along
with their seconds, went up to take a look.

It was then that I got my first
sight of Stanwick Camp. The ancient fortress was indeed huge. It was surrounded
by a deep ditch. The earth from the ditch had been thrown up to create a bank
perhaps eight feet tall. On top of the bank, a wooden palisade had been built
to shelter the defenders. The outer perimeter was lozenge-shaped and ran for
some five miles around. It was a good mile across from bank to bank and
surrounded − for its entire perimeter − by a continuous wall, which
had sturdy gates to block entry via the roads if the defenders so desired to
deny it. Beyond the gates, the smoke from a least fifty cook fires was rising
from as many huts. In the centre was a very large lords’ hall. Milling around
inside the fortress we could just make out scores of men and women. The walls
were manned by several hundred warriors, their battle standards fluttering in
the early summer breeze.

Impressive though the camp might
be, the spectacle to the west of it was even more magnificent. For, lined up
about one hundred paces west of the embankment was a large body of men. There
appeared to be six companies of spear-armed foot soldiers from Rheged and a
couple from Strathclyde beyond them. In all, they had about eight hundred
warriors formed up in a formation facing east, towards Stanwick Camp, with yet
more companies in reserve. Scattered here and there, a little ahead of the main
body, there were groups of skirmishers armed with bows or slings for the most
part, although I could see at least ten men with a handful of short javelins
and one fellow with a curious wooden device I had never seen before but I later
heard was called a crossbow.