The newcomer summed up the situation in the blinking of an eye and he spurred his horse into the heart of the crowd. The crush of people parted before him like a wave.
‘Hold!’ he shouted in a firm voice that was used to command. ‘Hold, in the King’s name. Cut that man down.’
The King’s man swung down from his war horse and pushed its reins into a pair of hands.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. ‘Edmund. My god, but it’s good to see you.’
‘And you, young Ranny m’lad. What have you done to these poor people to rile them so.’
I was silent, not quite knowing where to begin, the false accusation of Traitor, did not sit comfortably on my tongue.
Edmund glared about him with anger on his face, his eyes lit on the skulking figure of Eli.
‘Eli, come here!’ he shouted. ‘And that’s an order, not an invitation. You ugly bastard.’
Eli shuffled up, an expression of fear and embarrassment on the small part of his ugly face that remained mobile. He tugged a wisp of greasy forelock, and turned his bulging eye to the ground.
‘Yes your lordship. Tis I, your ever...’
But Edmund cut off the man’s whining. ‘I know that you will be at the root of this Eli. You’re always at the bottom of trouble...Tell the folk that you have been mistaken. Tell them that Ranulf’s no traitor. Make very sure they understand you, d’you hear, or I’ll tell them the truth of how you really came by those injuries.’
Edmund turned back to me. ‘Well my lad, you’ve got a tale to tell and no doubt. But first we’ll get you cleaned up, fed and into a warm bed. I’ve got the King’s taxes to collect from these people and perhaps by then, you’ll be feeling a little better and we’ll talk. I have news for you also.’
‘Thank you Edmund. I’m lucky that you arrived when you did. How...what happened to my father, my lord Odda. I must know.’ I said, my voice trembling.
‘Ah...So you’ve heard eh. It’s a long story, but the short of it is, he made a charge on the Viking front at Eddington. He was in a fury of revenge after reports of your being taken and killed. A few loyal warriors followed him, but it wasn’t enough.’
Edmund refused to tell me anymore and packed me off in the care of a giggling chamber maid for a hot bath, food and rest.
‘And throw those stinking clothes away. The girl will find you new.’ he called after us.
The cheerful maid also found my laboriously compiled chronicle and my notes. They had been pulled from the cask by the mob and discarded as being of no value. They had been collected and kept to one side by the Landlord, in case they may prove useful as evidence after the hanging.
The storm had completely blown itself out and the dusky sky was quiet. The hills in the distance turned to a shadowy blue against the evening sky and the last leaf drifted gracefully to the ground from a nearby chestnut tree. A distant owl called shrilly and several bats fluttered around like lost souls in the gathering darkness. The end of another year was fast approaching.
A recent survey had been carried out under Alfred’s guidance to list the proportional wealth of each estate and had been based on the simple rules how many men could be supported by the land’s produce. This notional figure was allowed to fluctuate, but reasons had to be given, they had to be sound, written up by a secretary and submitted ultimately to the King’s council for a final decision. Edmund’s leniency in setting and extracting the King’s taxes was not exactly legendary. In fact the landowners were normally subjected to a stern decision and a hefty fine if they were late. That evening though, everything went through with no problems. Edmund cheerfully stretched reason, just a little, to clear his task the quicker.
Even so, it was around midnight when the maid let him into the small, cosy room where I was a blanket covered mound on the bed. The maid set down a supper tray of bread and cheese next to the two large mugs of ale that had been warming by the cheerful fire in the small hearth.
‘Thank you Beth.’ said Edmund, and pressed a copper coin into the young girl’s hand. ‘You may leave us now. But, perhaps you’d fetch us another pitcher of ale before you retire.’
The sound of voices dragged me from my confused dreams, I turned and sat bolt upright. My hand reached for my sword and beads of sweat prickled on my forehead.
‘Oh, it’s you. I must have been dreaming. Do you know that this is the first time for a year that I have slept in a bed and.....it’s so, so warm.’
I watched the smiling Edmund as he heated a poker to mull the ale. He looked older than I remembered, hair turning grey and his brown face lined and drawn.
‘Well, I’m glad that job’s done for another year. Taking taxes from the country folk comes hard to me.’ he said, sitting heavily into one of the tall backed chairs.
‘As far as I can tell, most of the villagers are happy with you staying here. Some still grumble of course, but they are mostly contrite, and genuinely I think, about the happenings here today.’ Edmund sighed. ‘Perhaps, by your leave, we’ll do no more.’
‘Of course. I was so dazed can I hardly remember it anyway.’ I agreed.
‘Good man. You’ll never have trouble here again you know. Quite the opposite, guilt is a powerful emotion.’
I climbed out of my warm cot and, pulling a blanket about my shoulders, sat in the chair opposite my old guardian.
‘They called you Your Lordship earlier on. Have you been given your just deserts, perchance?’ I grinned at the old memories.
‘Oh, I was given a small estate and a knighthood, after our action at Eddington.’ he answered modestly. ‘But before we go into that I want...No, I must, hear your full story. Miss nothing out now, you hear. I want to hear everything.’
Edmund passed a supper plate and a mug of the fragrant, warmed ale. I paused, sipped the ale and, starting at the beginning, began my tale.
Edmund only interrupted a few times, and then only with thoughtful questions. We had a short break while the girl brought more ale and some fresh bread with slices of pork, but other than that, my voice rolled along, unloading the burden of my story. When I reached the end of my account, describing the single-handed battle through the storm and my hazy recollections of my rescue from the beach, we were both surprised to hear the strident crowing of a cockerel from the yard.
Edmund sat silently for a few moments, he put the last few logs on the fire and sat back with his eyes closed. He was so quiet and still that I thought he had gone to sleep and I was about to get him a blanket for his knees when he stood up.
‘We’ll rest now, until maybe midmorning. Then we shall ride to the King. I promise to tell you all the news and answer your questions as we travel.’ he said, using the guardian’s tone that he had adopted years before.
Alone again, I climbed between the pleasant coolness of the clean linen sheets of the bed and fell fast asleep, not even stirring when the young chamber maid tiptoed in to collect the plates and cups, and to leave a pile of neatly folded clothes.
It was well after mid morning when we finally left the Inn and, at an easy trot, set out on the road towards Somerset and Athelney. Edmund had arranged for his small retinue of clerks and men-at-arms to follow on later, after the final details had been documented and signed. The King, so Edmund informed me, was busy preparing to leave his house in the marshes of Somerset and take his court to the grand old City of Winchester. So we couldn’t delay, or we’d be caught up in the business of the increasingly complicated move.
Our way wound through forested valleys, where the smell of newly fallen leaves on the damp ground I found almost intoxicating. Along the spines of steeply flanked hills, the views in the clear, sunny air were stunning. A more total contrast to my long weeks of seascape and the smell of damp timber and human bodies I couldn’t imagine.
My riding, never a strong point, had suffered from lack of practice and my legs and back ached painfully long before our first stop.
Edmund’s news kept my mind off my physical discomforts for most of the time. The old warrior told me of the great battle at Eddington when, against all odds, they had thrashed the Viking horde. The Norseman’s army had been considerably weakened by the earlier action at which I had been taken prisoner and by the devastating effect of storms off our western coasts.
‘Probably the very one that caught us at sea after leaving the Scillies.’ I said.
‘Aye, happen it was.’ agreed Edmund.
‘So, tell me, how did I gather such a black name as Traitor.’ I asked.
Edmund smiled grimly and told me that, after the raid on Watchett, many folk had become sickened by the Vikings and their raids and they had moved south. They carried with them the news that a nobleman’s son had been seen running with the barbarian warriors. The truth of the affair reached us from another source, which I’ll tell you of later, but the situation served the campaign by focusing the people’s anger. We thought you dead and, although it grieved your father greatly, he agreed with the King that the story could be left and used to fire the people to take up arms and back their King in one last and epic battle.
‘And amongst other incentives, it worked.’ he said simply.
‘So, my reputation was deliberately ill used. I was royally libelled.’ I said. ‘And you all let it happen.’
‘At the time, it was politically right. If you had seen the troops that rallied to the flag at Kingseat Hill, beyond the Severn’s head you’d have been as amazed as we were.’
‘Political.’ I spluttered. ‘But it almost killed me.’
‘That’s enough Ranulf.’ said Edmund sternly. ‘Any wrongs will be mended I’m sure.’
‘But nothing’ll bring my lord Odda back. Will it.’ I snapped, a belated grief ruffling my anger.
‘That’s an unfortunate thing that nobody foresaw.’ he said sheepishly.
Edmund softened and, slowing our horses to a walk, gently told me of the valiant charge that my adoptive father had made at the heart of the enemy. He’d been killed fighting and he took a lot of them with him. His charge, made in his son’s name, was so ferocious that it almost managed to reach the barbarian King’s banner. They were claimed as heroes of the day by the poets and songsters. Maman had been overwrought but, being strong, she was pulling through it and was still at Cynwit. Ruling the castle and the estates with a softly gloved, iron hand. She will be overjoyed to hear that I had been returned, he said as he finished.
We rode on in silence for some while, each with thoughts of our own. As the day tended towards dusk we spurred on apace to reach an inn for the night. After another comfortable night, we rose early and ate a good breakfast of hot porridge sweetened with wild honey and we were on our way again by cockcrow. The countryside was similar to that which we had ridden the day before, except that there were no really steep hills. The land was tending to a flatness that stretched down to the wetlands bordering the Severn Sea. Eventually we sighted Athelney, set on its small rise against the backdrop of the far off Polden hills.