Moyra Caldecott (3 page)

The boy looked helpless. He had no idea how to answer this. The soldier jabbed him fiercely in the side.

‘No, my lord,’ he said. ‘They’re poor. They have nothing of their own. They even beg for food.’

Penda strode about. He could not get the eyes of the man Sigbert out of his mind. He had killed many men, but none who had disturbed him so much.

‘These priests, do they know magic?’

The boy shook his head, darkness seemed to be closing in on him. He knew that he had heard a wandering monk once condemn magic as being of the devil though this had not prevented many in his village turning to it when they needed it. For his own part he could never understand why an amulet that had the power to heal was evil, when a relic of a holy man doing the same work was not. His brother, who seemed to understand these things more than the rest of them, said it was because the amulet was ‘blind’ power and no one knew what dark forces might work through it without your noticing, but the relic was ‘seeing’ power and was linked to a spirit that was known and proven to be good.

‘If he was not there to fight, and he was not there to make magic, why was he there?’ Penda demanded.

‘King Egric and Prince Ethelhere had brought him to us to lead us into battle. He used to be a warrior. But he spoke to us of friendship with the Mercians, and said it was wrong to kill, even our enemies. He said he had taken a vow to God not to kill and he would not do it even to save his own life.’

‘He vowed to his god that he would not kill?’ Penda asked in amazement.

The boy nodded.

Penda grunted and rubbed his bearded chin.

‘What did he hope to gain by coming up to me like that?’

The boy shrugged helplessly.

‘I respect a man who keeps a vow and who honours his god. Even a god who is as foolish as this one seems to be.’ The Mercian king spoke as though to himself. And then, louder, to his men, he said: ‘Find this priest-king’s body and let it be buried with dignity.’

But before they could leave his presence to do his bidding there was a disturbance at the entrance and a man rushed in with urgent news. The boy could not catch what was said, as there was a great deal of shouting, but he heard enough to know that the Mercians were alarmed at a sudden change in the situation. When they rushed out leaving him alone, he began to crawl towards the entrance, but fainted before he reached it.

The news Penda had heard to change his mood so swiftly had been that the East Anglians, whom he had thought he had defeated, were rallying under the standard of a new leader.

Prince Anna, brother to both Egric and Ethelhere, had missed the battle, being at the time on a visit to the Kentish court. But he had had a dream of such horror about his country that he had set off for home even before messengers arrived with the news of Penda’s invasion. And so it was that he was now already on East Anglian territory, having sailed up the Deben river while Penda’s army was mostly scattered, looting in isolated villages, celebrating with the local strong ale, over confident in the extent of their victory. He and his companion rode in from the south-east, fresh from their sojourn in Kent, angry and determined to retake their land.

Penda had overreached himself and knew it. His spies had told him East Anglia would be easy taking once he had breached the dykes, and at first it had seemed that they were right. But the Seer had warned him he would have a victory that was not a victory.

He had been foolish to relax so soon and he was angry with himself. That damn sorcerer had taken his mind off things he ought to have been thinking about.

Within a few days Anna had turned the Mercians around. No matter how cruelly Penda’s troops tried to stamp on the people, enough of them always seemed to get away to join their new leader.

By the coming of the Lord’s day, Prince Anna could give thanks to his god for deliverance from the enemy, while Penda, angry and disappointed, had had to retreat.

All through these terrible events Etheldreda and Saxberga lay hidden in the cave under the care of the taciturn youth. During the day he went out to forage for food and drink. At night they sat in the dark and talked long hours together, learning that the young man’s name was Ovin and that he was a runaway slave of the Celtic race.

The punishment if he was caught would be certain death, and probably not by the most merciful method.

All their lives the princesses had taken slaves for granted, assuming that they would always be there at their father’s house at Exning or at Rendilsham, taking care of everything. They were not treated badly, for Anna and his wife were kind people and their slaves respected them and worked willingly. But Ovin told them that all masters were not so fair and gentle.

He started to describe the suffering and humiliations that he had endured, but had to stop because Etheldreda wept so piteously. She had been growing steadily paler as the days went by and now would scarcely eat or sleep, her eyes almost like dark holes in her head. She felt as though she had been living all her life believing that she was in a sturdy boat on a calm lake, and had suddenly found that she was on the open sea in a frail craft buffeted by winds and lashed by tremendous waves. One night as she dozed uneasily she thought she saw dry land and a beautiful country… but she could not see a way to reach it. She stretched out her arms, sobbing.

‘Ssh,’ hushed Saxberga, rocking her gently in her arms. ‘Ssh!’

Ovin woke and crept over to them.

‘She is having a bad dream,’ whispered Saxberga. ‘Do you think I should wake her?’

Runaway slave or not, Ovin had become for them both a strong and a comforting force, the only thing that kept them from absolute despair. He had treated Saxberga’s leg with herbal concoctions to keep it from going gangrenous and he had set the bone well, probably better than the king’s own physician would have done, binding it with strips of hide to a stick of wood. They had grown accustomed to his making every decision and waited patiently for the time when he thought it would be safe for them to leave the cave.

He put his hand on Etheldreda’s shoulder.

‘Wake up,’ he said softly. ‘You are safe.’

She jerked awake at once and sat bolt upright.

And for one amazing instant it seemed to her that she was not in the dark, but was seeing everything around her as clearly as though it were full daylight. But everything she saw, and everything she had ever seen, was as nothing to the fair and distant land she had glimpsed in her dream.

The next day Ovin returned from foraging with good news.

‘The Mercians have gone,’ he told them. ‘King Anna has driven them away.’

‘King Anna?’ gasped the girls.

He looked at them and smiled. ‘Yes, King Anna,’ he said.

Chapter 2

The marriage of Saxberga

King Anna looked gravely down upon the mutilated bodies of three Mercian soldiers that had been laid proudly at his feet as he entered Garbaldisham.

‘I would rather these men were alive,’ he said quietly.

‘My lord,’ protested the young man who brought them to him, ‘they killed my mother and my wife.’

The king nodded sadly.

‘They kill your family, so you kill them. Their family must kill you in revenge for their death, and your kin must kill their kin in revenge for your death. And so it goes on. When will the killing stop if we do not stop it now? Why do we speak of being born again into a new life, if we do not change our ways?’

‘But my lord, my wife and mother must be avenged!’

‘“Vengeance is mine,” said the Lord. “I will repay”,’ the king murmured, almost under his breath.

There was an uneasy silence among the people gathered before him, until at last one spoke, a challenging spark in his eyes.

‘Is it true, my lord, that your own daughters have been killed by the Mercians?’

A shadow passed over Anna’s face and a muscle twitched in his cheek. He took a long time to answer this, and when he did his voice was full of pain.

‘It is true.’

‘And do you still say we must not take vengeance?’

There was another long pause. He shut his eyes and took a deep, slow, breath. Those who were near could see his knuckles white as he clenched his fists. But when he opened his eyes again, his gaze was steady and clear.

‘I do,’ he said simply.

The crowd murmured and shifted restlessly in front of him.

‘Take these men away,’ he said, straightening his shoulders and suddenly speaking in quite a different tone of voice. ‘I do not believe in vengeance, but I do believe in self-defence. We have driven the Mercians from our land, but they will be back. Next time they must not penetrate the dykes. I want every man, woman and child in the country to pledge two days out of every week for digging at the dykes until I am satisfied that they are too high and strong for Penda’s men to take. Those who live far from the place may work their days off in groups of ten, returning to their homes for the intervening weeks. Make this known,’ he commanded, and leapt upon his horse.

After he had gone there was murmuring, some complaining about having to work on the dyke, others relieved that King Anna, though Christian like King Sigbert and willing to forgive his enemies, was shrewd enough at least to see the necessity of strong defence. They remembered also that he had delivered them from Penda.

The council of elders and priests, thegns and earls, had no hesitation in confirming Anna’s claim to the crown, and people flocked to him from far and wide willing to take the oath of allegiance.

It is said that when the news of his daughters’ safe return was brought to him he fell down on his knees in the mud and wept.

Later, at Rendilsham, he heard the details of their escape and was introduced to Ovin, who, only with the greatest difficulty, had been persuaded to come out of hiding and throw himself on the king’s mercy. When Anna had listened to his story he sent for the man who had been Ovin’s master.

That night the youth tried to run away, feeling sure that he had been betrayed, but he had gone no further than the stockade that surrounded the royal buildings when he found himself seized by the belt of his jerkin. He spun round, his fists at the ready, to find that he was looking into a child’s face.

‘My lady ’Dreda!’ he gasped.

‘You are not going to run away again?’ she hissed.

‘I have to,’ he whispered miserably. ‘Please, my lady, let me go.’

‘No, I will not let you go to live in a hole in the ground again like a hunted animal, or become a wolf’s-head outlaw, harrying the countryside for food. My father will not give you back to your master.’

‘He has called for him.’

‘He has called for him to punish him for how he has treated you. Come back with me and you will see.’

‘He will give me back. He has to. It is the law.’

‘He has promised me that he will pay the price for you. He will buy you. You will see how different masters can be.’

‘My lady,’ Ovin’s voice broke slightly. ‘I am grateful, but…’

‘But what?’ she asked sharply. The night was dark and they were in shadow. She could see people moving, silhouetted against the house fires, the guards talking near the gate. She hoped that she could persuade Ovin to return to the slaves’ quarters before he was missed.

‘I can’t go back to being a slave, no matter how kind the master.’

‘Why not?’

Ovin shook his head in the dark.

‘I can’t!’ he repeated vehemently – forgetting caution. Etheldreda put her hand upon his arm.

‘Ssh,’ she said. ‘I will persuade my father to free you. But it must be done correctly or you will always live in fear.’

Ovin looked at her. Was this possible? Was the nightmare he had lived for so long finally going to end?

‘Come,’ she said, tugging at his arm. ‘Trust me. Please! I owe you my life. Let my father give you back the one my people took from you.’

He allowed himself to be led to the slaves’ quarters, but he hesitated to go in.

‘It will only be for a little while,’ she pleaded. ‘I promise you.’

He sighed and disappeared through the low door into the darkness.

It turned out that Ovin’s master and most of his family had been killed in the fighting. Only his wife and one small child were left, and they were brought before King Anna. They were offered a good price for the slave, and accepted readily. Had the husband been alive he might have demanded Ovin’s life, but his wife was destitute and preferred the money.

‘You see!’ cried Etheldreda joyously.

Ovin bowed his head glad that half of the promise had been kept, but he would not rejoice until he had the whole of it.

He was taken to the crossroads and there the ceremony of manumission was performed. The record of it was entered into King Anna’s gospel book and witnessed by two priests and two thegns.

After the signatures, the curse was written in against anyone who would deny Ovin’s freedom in the future.

‘May he have the disfavour of God who at any time perverts this grant of freedom.’

It was signed by King Anna and the witnesses.

Ovin took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. He had never seen it so high and wide before, so full of splendour. He leapt into the air and ran like a young colt over the fallow field to the west.

The group at the crossroads watched him quietly, Etheldreda slipping her hand into her father’s.

‘It must be a terrible thing to be a slave,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I hadn’t thought of it before.’

‘Most people are slaves, my child, in one way or another.’

‘I am not!’ she said fiercely.

‘The strange thing is,’ her father continued, ignoring her, speaking as though to himself, ‘More often than not the only way we can prove we have our freedom is to give it up voluntarily.’

Ovin came running back, his eyes alight, his breath short.

‘Well, my friend,’ the King said. ‘We are at the crossroads. You are free to go. Which way will you choose?’

Ovin looked around at the vast landscape, the fields of grain, the forests in the distance, the paths spreading out from where they stood. In every direction freedom lay.

He looked down at Etheldreda standing beside her father, still thin from her recent ordeal, but her cheeks now warm and glowing with happiness. The sunlight caught her hair and it shone like gold. Her eyes were full of caring and concern.