Peter Tremayne - The Haunted Abbot

‘Why would they land at that point? There are no significant settlements in the vicinity apart from Aldred’s Abbey.’

Aldhere rubbed his chin, thinking for a moment.

‘That is a good point, holy gerefa. They usually raid to the north of here, against the lands of the North Folk where King Ealdwulf has his palace and fortresses. Why, indeed, would they land there?’

For a moment or two it seemed that the outlaw was lost in contemplation of the question. Eadulf decided to pull him back to the moment.

‘Can nothing be done about Sigehere? I thought his cousin Sebbi was leading a civil war against him. Surely that would curtail his ambitions?’

‘Sebbi is no warrior. He is too pious and has to rely on others to fight his battles. At the moment, he is hard pressed to hold his own against his pagan cousin.’

‘Is there no Christian neighbour to intervene on Sebbi’s behalf?’

‘Christian or pagan, kings are only governed by self-interest. What can Sebbi do for them? If it is nothing, then why should they support him?’

‘So there is no prospect of stopping Sigehere?’

Aldhere shook his head. ‘Short of defeating him in battle, little enough, I suppose. And Sigehere has too many powerful friends who would be willing to take his side. As a matter of politics, he even recognises Wulfhere of Mercia as his overlord, and Wulfhere, for one, would welcome the chance to move into our land of the East Angles if we sent an army against Sigehere.’

Eadulf paused uncertainly for a moment or two and then said: ‘You do not speak with the selfish attitude of a robber, Aldhere. You claim that Botulf was your friend. Tell me how this was and all that you know of his death.’

Aldhere set down his tankard of mead and stretched his arms before folding them easily across his stomach. He closed his eyes in thought for a second.

‘Botulf was the only one of your faith who did not condemn me when I was declared an outlaw. That was over a year ago now.’

‘First tell me how you met Botulf. What were the circumstances of your friendship?’

‘You will recall that Wulfhere succeeded his father, Penda, as King of Mercia eight years ago and has been busy ever since trying to re-establish the domination of Mercia over all the kings of the Angles and the Saxons?’

Eadulf nodded. During his childhood the name of Penda, son of Pybba, had been conjured by mothers to frighten their children into obedience. From his kingdom of Mercia he had marched on his neighbours, even killing Oswald of Northumbria, the most powerful of the Anglo-Saxon kings. Eadulf had been a child of six or seven at the time. There had been almost universal joy when Oswy, son of Oswald, who had become Northumbria’s s King after his father’s death, defeated and slew Penda at WinwaedField. The mighty Mercian empire had collapsed. Penda had been depicted as an ogre because he rejected the Christian faith and adhered to the ancient gods like Woden and Thunor. Yet three years after Penda’s death, his son Wulfhere had rallied the kingdom and begun to re-establish its dominance.

Eadulf was frowning.

‘What have such matters to do with you?’ he asked the outlaw leader.

‘I was thane of Bretta’s Ham, a warlord of the South Folk.’

Eadulf was startled to realise that his estimation of the man was correct. A thane was one of the lesser nobility; Eadulf knew only that Bretta’s Ham was to the south-west of the kingdom. He waited patiently for Aldhere to continue.

‘About a year ago, Wulfhere sent his brother Aethelred against the western border of our kingdom. Ealdwulf, our King, sent his Cousin Egric to command the army. It was a short skirmish but a fierce fight, for the Mercians came down on us like the furies of hell. I was given command of the right flank. It was not a good position, for Egric had placed us at the foot of a hill, almost out of sight of the main body. When the attack began, a message from Egric was sent to me to stand fast until we were called. I obeyed. The next thing we heard was that Egric’s positions had been overthrown and he was mortally wounded.’

Aldhere was silent for a moment or two and then he sighed deeply. ‘Once I learnt this intelligence, I led my men around the hill and came upon the Mercian rear. As I say, it was a fierce but swift fight and the Mercians were suddenly in full retreat.’

Eadulf made no comment as Aldhere paused again.

‘When I went to see how Egric fared and to tell him the good news that we had turned the Mercians, I found the life blood ebbing from him but the man still full of bile and recriminations. Instead of taking responsibility for the bad positions and his consequent overthrow — indeed, his own death — he ranted and raged against me even with his dying breath. He claimed that I was a coward. He said I had hidden away until he had been defeated; that I had made no effort to protect his flank. And in his anger, he died.’

There was a silence until Eadulf made the obvious comment.

‘But it was his own fault.’

‘He was the King’s cousin and those in his bodyguard who had survived took his dying words back to Ealdwulf. I was summoned to the King’s palace to answer for my cowardice. Those were the very words with which the demand for my attendance was made. I knew, then, that if I went, there would be only one resolution to my situation. My execution.’

‘So you decided not to go in answer to the King’s summons?’

‘That is the reason I am still alive today.’ Aldhere gave a wry grimace.

‘The King declared you an outlaw?’ Eadulf made a sympathetic clicking sound with his tongue. ‘Not to answer a king’s summons was a wrong course to pursue, I think.’

Aldhere shook his head. ‘You believe that I should have gone to argue my case? Those men who were with me decided to go to the King’s court, and with them went Botulf.’

Eadulf started. ‘Why should Botulf go?’

‘Because, at the time, Brother Botulf had come to preach the word of the faith in Bretta’s Ham where I was lord. When word came of the Mercian attack, he volunteered to accompany my warband that we be not denied spiritual comfort in our hour of need. He was with my men throughout the fight, standing at my side armed with only the symbol of his faith, a crucifix. He knew the allegations of Egric to be untrue. He went to King Ealdwulf as an emissary on my behalf.’

Eadulf realised that Aldhere must be telling the truth. No one who knew Botulf would doubt such a story. Eadulf knew his friend’s courage.

‘But he failed?’

‘He failed to convince King Ealdwulf, who preferred the word of his dead cousin to those of my men. Those three warriors who went to him, three of my trusted commanders, he enslaved immediately. As for Botulf, he sent him back to Aldred’s Abbey, where he had originally come from, with instructions to Cild that Botulf was never to go further from the abbey than one mile in any direction.’

Eadulf was aghast. ‘But this is unjust! I did not know this.’

Aldhere smiled sarcastically. ‘Tell me about justice, gerefa. Only the powerful and rich can afford true justice.’

Eadulf thought of the system that he had witnessed at firsthand in the five kingdoms of Éireann and felt a sorrow for his people.

‘So this injustice has caused you to become an outlaw?’

‘As soon as I heard what had happened to Botulf and my men, I took those remaining loyal to me, and their women and children, and made for the fastness of the marshlands and the woods. Here, through good luck, I made contact with Botulf once again and he was able to tell me where my men had been taken as slaves. We were eventually able to launch a raid to free them and so our band has existed during this last year, sometimes attracting new members who felt that they too had been the victims of malicious injustice.’