The dinner was very good. Without a doubt the best that could be supplied by the relatively small kitchens. The hall had been opened up, and long tables had been set out in a large horseshoe shape, leaving a small arena for various entertainers and gleemen. The performance of the minstrel, was every bit as embarrassing as I expected it to be. To the delight of all present. Those around me made it their business to make sure that I didn’t manage to escape for the duration of Bendal’s skilful, if exaggerated, recital.
The wine flowed like winter rain, but having learned my lesson at an early age I was very careful, particularly as I wouldn’t get much rest again tonight. The conversation was bubbly, hovering variously between the boisterous and the ribald. I could see quite clearly why Elswith, Alfred’s Queen and the ladies of the court had retired early. I did however manage to glean some information from some of the more serious discussion threads that wove across the top table of honour.
The first, was that the prisoners, without the normal public circus, had already met with the hand of their timely fate and been executed before a handful of sober witnesses. Their remains had been disposed of in a common grave, outside of any consecrated boundaries and without the services of religious ceremony. Except for one of them, that is. He was being fitted with leg chains and was to accompany our party to Athelney. It seemed that young Deaks hid his intelligence beneath a mask of illiteracy and was an expert in the heathen Norse tongue. How he had achieved this I found intriguing and I wondered how long his knowledge would spare him from the cold, dark oblivion of an early, ignominious death. I found it difficult to think of him as the bullying, cross-eyed braggart that he’d been.
We also learnt that the recalcitrant Abbot of Athelney was to be moved to this new Burgh. Where he would assist in the building of a church on the small wooded hill, to commemorate the life of Osric. The work and the Abbot would be supervised by the new incumbent, Edmund, who would securely hold the purse strings. The Abbot’s place at Athelney would be taken up by Father John, Alfred’s mass-priest. A rider had already been dispatched with the tidings to Athelney’s Sheriff, with orders to carry out the King’s will with all due haste, using whatever means that he deemed applicable.
I looked along the table at my one-time guardian. He was obviously out of his league with some of the more pretentious of the courtiers, but I doubted it would be very long before he developed a series of pointed replies which would bridle their often spiteful prattling. They would eventually leave him alone and I hoped he wouldn’t find the position too lonely. A situation that my lord Odda often complained of. And, speaking of whom, he provided me with a memorable souvenir of that grand evening.
We were about to make our way from the hall, to retire for a short rest before setting out to return to Athelney, when a commotion announced the arrival of a messenger. Unbeknown to me, a rider had been sent to maman and my father the day before, with news of our battle and my good fortune in surviving the day.
The messenger, quite exhausted, brought Odda’s hearty congratulations to all, but also a personal commendation and important news. A note, hastily written, brought his good wishes and the news that Cynwit had a newly appointed Thane-Lord...himself. The post of Aelderman had been stretched to include the personal stewardship of the castle and fortified town, this had become a necessity when the Sheriff had mysteriously taken his own life. As a result, my family home was now within the castle walls, an area which was shortly to become subjected to my Mother’s discreet, but effective directions of a stringent and cleansing broom.
While I read the note, the messenger stood before me.
‘Your father wishes me to say that he is proud of his only son and would be honoured for you to accept the gift of this fine young warhorse.’
The sleek and shining black animal was led in. It stood before us in the arena, impatiently stamping one of its fore hooves. It was one of a new breed that had been sent to my family from across the southern seas and the turbulent lands of the Jute. He was nearly as tall as two men and had huge feet that were almost hidden by the feathery flow of hair from his fetlocks. I vaulted across the table to examine him.
‘I shall call him Pendragon.’ I announced stroking the velvet of his nose. ‘If you would call to see me before you return messenger, I will have an answering note for you.’
Bowing, the dust streaked Courier left the Hall for a well earned meal and a short rest, for he would depart like the rest of us, before the rooks in their lofty perches awoke the dawn.
It was to be the first time that Edmund and I had been separated by more than a day or so, since we had left the old village of Stowey to cross the divides and travel far beyond the barrier of the intervening marsh. It is probably as well that at that time, I had not known what lay before me. The triumphs, both large and small, had been earned and enjoyed, but there had been times when the disappointments had welled up to seem almost overpowering. It was during these latter periods that Edmund had patiently helped me the most and I think that I am responsible for more than a few of the silver grey hairs that now stitch through his defiant black plaits. I will miss him. The feeling of my impending loss took the gloss from the excitement of my new beginning and of my delight with my gift and news from home.
But I shouldn’t be so selfish, Edmund had been given an enormous step up on the social ladder and would, I knew, do a much better job than most. He wouldn’t be bogged down by the pompous procrastinations and petty dalliances of the priggish courtiers. He had been given a job and if nothing else, it would be done justly and to the very best of his ability, which was considerable. The local, parasitic members of this tiny border community, would soon learn that Edmund would not be blinded by flattery and when he decided that the answer would be no, then he meant it. I quickly wished him every success and left him to mediate between two feuding farmers.
When the time came to leave I found Pendragon already saddled, bridled and ready to go. I had decided that Sim would stay here with Edmund, at least for a while, maybe for retirement. He’d done very well after all. Edmund had blustered a bit, but the twinkle in his eye told me that he was pleased to be keeping him.
So, before dawn had brought a new day into the inky eastern sky, I was trotting along on my new mount in the wake of the King of Britain, his household and his council, some, those that could no longer manage horseback, were to follow later by wagon.
Somewhere behind me followed the captive Deaks. I could hear his complaining tones and clanking manacles every now and then, as the rigid ox-wagon that he’d been chained into, bounced and jolted over some fearful ruts. Since that day on the beach I’d not spoken to him, and hadn’t seen him since he had disappeared into the Fort, ahead of the attacking Viking horde. I wouldn’t like to be in his shoes. His protector, the Abbot, was deposed, and the connections that Edmund and I were sure he had with the Sheriff of Cynwit, were also dashed. His own miserable existence could only be secured by a slender thread and as soon as his usefulness declined, he would be sent along the spirit-bridge to join his late cohorts. I shivered, and my fingers pressed the comforting warmth of the iron cross about my neck.
As we moved along, my melancholy fell away and I felt a strong spiritual change in myself. I was now on my own, master of my own course and destination. Just days ago, travelling in the opposite direction I had been a nervous youth full of uncertainties and hopes. The Hopes were still there, though somewhat inflated now, but a new and novel confidence had swept me up and was bearing me along.
For much of the journey I was lost in thought, wondering what the learned gentlemen from such a far off place as Rome would look like or have to say. My imagination wandered and took me to many of the places that, over the months, I had read about. With an absorbing clarity, they wove their impressive scenes, like curtains, across my tired mind. So absorbing were they, that the distance melted magically away beneath me.
It was well that my new horse had been properly schooled. For the greater part of the trip to Athelney and without much intervention, he bore me along safely without stumbling or lunging.
‘We’re going to get along well.’ I told him with a smile of pleasure.
I wasn’t a skilled rider and the animal’s undoubted common sense and skill was going to be a definite asset. I would say that my father had chosen him specially, he had had many an exasperating moment when he tried to teach me the crafts of horsemanship. I just found it impossible to think like the beast and to anticipate their movements or actions. But, I suppose it’s as well that we’re not all experts, or the roads would be crowded and even more rutted.
The dawn sky had been clear and bright, with the sun rising strongly above the wooded hills and valleys through which we travelled. But as happens so often in this part of the country, clouds gathered in the west and swept across the sky to meet and overwhelm the welcoming refulgence of the returning golden brightness.
By the time we reached the Gates of Athelney a soft rain had begun to fall, generating a sweet earthy odour from the floor of the surrounding, fertile beech forest.
The early morning entry into the fortified settlement was quietly done, with only a few of the household’s servants roused out of bed by the return of their mistress and the retinue. The King, I thought, looked pale and unwell as he was handed down from the Royal Charger, perhaps it was just tiredness.
Pendragon was taken off to the Army’s stable by one of Edmund’s young grooms. I gave him the unnecessary orders to brush and rub down the animal and to feed him well, with a warm mash. Whatever I said, he would do what he knew to be best for the beast, and undoubtedly he’d be correct.
The travelling speed of gossip quite amazed me. We’d only been within the walls for moments, but this young groom already knew the outline happenings of the past few days, and offered his congratulations.
The courtyard before the Great Hall quickly emptied and before long I found myself, bewilderingly alone. Quietly I made off in the direction of the accommodation that until recently I had shared with Edmund and my faithful Sim.
The cold, empty rooms seemed damp and stark. I managed to kindle a small fire in the hearth and, almost numb with weariness, threw off my clothes and sank onto the couch. Pulling up a blanket and covering myself to my chin, I smoothly fell into the comfortable oblivion of an exhausted sleep.
~ ~ ~
Hands that felt as rough as hound’s teeth were shaking me awake. I tried to turn away and ignore them. Surely I’d only just closed my eyes. The hands followed me, shaking my shoulder with more vigour and joined by an equally vigorous gruff voice.
‘Come young sir. We’ll have you awake now if you please.’
Where was Edmund, surely he could deal with whatever this awful person wanted. I eased open an eye and peeped into the gloomy daylight to see a Court messenger, his ring laden fingers poised to prod some action from me. The reality of my situation flooded back from the deepest caverns of my memory. The fire must have been out long ago, for the air was shivering cold and it had crept into my aching bones where the blanket covering had slipped away.
‘What is it.’ my lips grumbled automatically, as I dragged back the blanket to cover my naked body.
‘The King has been calling for you. You’d best hurry, he’s not best amused.’ answered the messenger smilingly, undeterred by my own bad temper.
I was about to ask where it was that I should go, when the damned fellow turned and left.
Hastily, I dressed myself and hurried along through the collection of houses, huts and hovels towards the impressive, stone built, Great Hall with its high walled enclosure. The day didn’t seem to be too far advanced, it could perhaps, be time for the midday meal, there were so few people around. An inner voice insistently told me that it was much later than it seemed, but the steady gloom and my dull senses made it difficult to gauge the time.
The drizzly rain had stopped, but the skies were still laden with the weight of a thick greyness that threatened to burst again at any moment. I was still chilled at the core, and my belly was rumbling with embarrassingly loud complaints. With Edmund gone, I would have to make my own provisions for the necessities of living such as the appeasement or better still, the satisfaction of hunger being only one of my immediate problems.
I arrived at the gate and felt nervously sick as the guarding sentry ushered me through and pointed across a well tended garden towards an arched entrance to the main building. Inside, I stepped through a heavy curtain and the warmth from several blazing log fireplaces struck me like a physical blow. The King and Elswith, his Queen, were sharing a meal with several well dressed members of the Court. The King looked up and his still pale face glowered heavily at me as I stood awaiting his instructions. Elswith spoke quietly to him from behind her hand. The King appeared to ignore her, then almost petulantly, he nodded and resumed his discussion while his fingers toyed with the food on his gilded plate.
The Queen bobbed a deferential curtsey as she stood, and smiling, came across to me. With the same smile she led me silently to a side table which was almost groaning with the finest of fare and handed me one of the heavy gilt platters. I filled the big plate until I had difficulty making anything else stay on it and made my way to the place set at the table for me, a little apart from the rest.
The others had, from the looks of things, finished eating although their plates in some cases, seemed hardly touched. The enthusiastic helping on my own dish caused one or two amused glances as I mumbled a thanksgiving, but apart from that I was ignored. Relieved, I set about my dinner and listened with interest as those at the head of the table discussed the local shortages in the food supply. Why, what they were about to waste would feed a half dozen of our good warriors, I wondered if they realised.
My attention became focused more carefully and it seemed that the feeding of our resident army was shortly going to be a major problem, let alone finding enough for any new intake before they were sent to Edmund for further training. One strong suggestion was that the King send all the new troops directly to Edmund then it would be his problem. This advice, I’m glad to say was treated with contempt.
One by one, after providing similar impractical suggestions, the councillors sat back from the table and awaited the Kings decision. He looked past them. Directly at me,
‘So good of you to join us Ranulf.’ the pale face didn’t smile. ‘What would you advise, that could help us with our problem.’
My face burned as the eyes lining the table swivelled in my direction. The piece of cheese that I had just taken into my mouth immediately stuck to my tongue as I tried to swallow. I gasped to speak, the solution to me seemed obvious.
‘Almost, if not all of our men are from farming backgrounds and families. Allow them some land where they may produce some crops to subsidise themselves. It could even be done competitively, company by company.’
My suggestion was greeted by silence from the advisors and a stony impassiveness from Alfred. The stretched silence was broken at last by a gust of laughter from the King.
‘That’s the most sensible thing I’ve heard in many a long day.’ his face was still pale but the eyes showed some thawing in his frosty mood. ‘We have also decided that our Royal table will not offer so many favours.’ He looked around at the untouched meals, many other glances nervously followed his. ‘The waste is an affront to our hungry people. It ends from now.’ He stood, scraping his heavy chair over the stone flags. ‘Go, all of you. Since he is the only sensible one here, we wish to speak with Ranulf...alone!’
With much mumbling and muttering the old councillors withdrew. When the door had closed behind the last one, I was ushered across the hall to take a seat before one of the blazing hearths.
‘They all mean well really, you know. And I’ve no doubt that they would have arrived at your answer to the problem eventually, they are all tired that’s all.’ he muttered.
The Queen herself brought a tray holding three beakers and a jug of wine, she poured two and handed one to her husband a look of concern in her eyes.
‘You should get some rest yourself my King.’ she said.
‘Soon, soon, good Elswith. We must set our new friend to work before he grows fat and lazy.’ he said, and smiling now, he turned to me. ‘Take a cup of the wine Ranulf, it’s rather fine and warming on a damp day like today.’
I reached forward and took up the remaining full beaker and carefully sipped at the thick contents. ‘Thank you sir.’ I said.
‘I gather you’ve managed to sleep away most of the day, so you should be button bright now.’ the heady effect of the liquor and the heat from the roaring fire was taking effect, and the King’s weary eyelids drooped heavily.
Guiltily I nodded, embarrassment once again creeping across my cheeks.
‘No matter.’ he said, shaking his head and drawing himself up straight. ‘This Deaks fellow...We need the knowledge that the fellow has of the Pagan invader’s customs and language. And we need it soon.’ he shook his head thoughtfully. ‘I should like you to be with me when we question him but I can’t see when I can fit in the time for it.’
Elswith hovered by his side, a thoughtful frown on her forehead,
‘Why don’t you let Ranulf here, handle it.’ she paused and looked at me while she caught her thoughts. ‘Unlike most of those who surround us, he can read and write. He could make up lists of our words, have the Deaks fellow translate them and then Ranulf could write in the Norseman’s, godless version, alongside.’
‘A very creditable solution, my dear Lady. What do you say Ranulf, are you up to that.’
‘I think so sir, but it’s a big job. It could take many days.’ I answered, my enthusiasm beginning to bubble.
‘I’m sure it will, I expect it to take many months to complete. But we must start.’ his eyes closed for a moment. ‘See to it will you. I’ll send someone from the council to help you.’
‘Come my Lord, you’ll make yourself ill if you don’t take some rest.’
‘You’re right. I’m coming now.’ he smiled at Elswith. ‘Come and see me for supper Ranulf. You can show me the start of our Lexicon.’
I bowed deeply as they departed and, slipping a half of a cold chicken into my pouch, I strode from the Great Hall to find quill, ink and as much parchment as I could lay my hands on.