Medieval 5: K and Y 15 The Norman Hag, part 1 of 3

Kirstie

Kirstie, Yrsa, and Skarde came to the village center, stopped, and quickly scooted behind the edge of a building. Skarde tried to keep the women behind him which annoyed Yrsa, but Kirstie thought that was cute. Mercenary soldiers escorted Jarl, who had a wound in his shoulder, Leif, and two of the men that went with them to the guild hall. One of those men appeared to be bleeding from his leg, but he kept up well enough.

“We need to find out where they are being taken,” Kirstie whispered. Yrsa and Skarde looked at her like they knew that, and she did not need to state the obvious.

Kirstie thought for a moment while she looked at the vegetable garden behind the house on the square. “Carrots,” she said.

Skarde glanced at the garden. “More than likely,” he said.

“Carrots,” she said, and added, “I need to see you.”

A garden gnome slowly manifested, and he looked and sounded disturbed. “Who? What? How did this happen?”

“I need your help,” Kirstie said, but the gnome was having none of it.

“I don’t do favors for dusty doodles.” He showed his most disturbed face before he caught a glimpse of Yrsa. He whipped off his hat and changed his temperament in a blink. “Greetings skinny princess.” He bowed.

“Princess?” Skarde said and pointed at Yrsa who shrugged before the gnome interrupted.

“I know a princess when I see one, you exceptionally dirty bit of old dust.” the gnome grumped before he smiled for Yrsa. “Did you call for me? Being visible and all, I can’t hardly get my work done.” He spoke to Yrsa like a father to a simple child.

“Lady?” Yrsa turned to Kirstie.

“Carrots,” Kirstie said. “I called you.”

“You?” the gnome’s face slowly changed as he realized who he was talking to. He wrinkled his hat, offered his best bow, and stuttered. “How-ho-how can I help-he-help you?”

Kirstie smiled for the little one. “I need to know where the human prisoners from the ships are being kept. You can go invisible and insubstantial if you like so you stay safe. I don’t want to worry about you.”

The gnome got a big grin thinking that his goddess would worry about him. “But that is easy,” he said. “They got big cages in the town hall. I know, because we have some night spooks living underneath that complain they can’t get any day rest with so many noisy, smelly men over their heads.”

“Town hall?” Kirstie asked and pointed at the building on the other side of the central fountain.

“That’s the place. They got a side door if you want to get in unseen.”

Kirstie patted the gnome on the head. “I’m not sure letting the neighbor’s rabbits out to eat the lady’s vegetable garden is nice, but you know your work and I won’t interfere. Maybe, though, your wife will fix something special tonight for the evening meal.” She blew the gnome a kiss and let him go invisible and insubstantial again.

“That was interesting,” Skarde said.

“The world is full of life,” Kirstie said. “There are little ones everywhere. It gives me a headache to think how many there are. So, Yrsa…”

“This way,” Yrsa smiled and led them back down the street and around the corner toward the town hall side door. She did get out her bow, just in case.

They passed a few people on the way. The town was hardly deserted, but they were ignored so they did not think much about it. When they arrived at that side door, they found Carrots and four other gnomes waiting for them.

“We thought we might help a bit more,” Carrots said.

“I can’t imagine,” Skarde said, looking down on the little crew, the tallest being just shy of three feet tall.

One of the gnomes touched the door, and they heard the locks click open. Two of the gnomes went insubstantial and walked right through the closed door. A moment later, one stuck his head back out through the wall and said all looks safe. It was just the gnome’s head sticking through a solid wall. It felt a bit disconcerting to see.

The other gnome opened the squeaky door a crack, banged once on the hinges, and opened the door wider without the squeak. “Like they won’t hear the bang,” Kirstie whispered her mumble.

Carrots and his two gnomes butted in front, knives drawn, though one knife looked like a trowel. “Shhh!” Carrots insisted. “Quiet,” he said a bit loud. They immediately saw the cages even as they heard some deep growls. “Hund. Placate the dogs.” Carrots said, and Hund with another gnome went to do that very thing. Carrots and his two gnomes, with Yrsa, looked everywhere for a human guard who would not be satisfied as easily as a dog. Skarde and Kirstie had their eyes on the cages. There were four of them, big ones holding about thirty men each, and the men in those cages said nothing, but stared at their unlikely rescuers.

Kirstie called once again to her armor and became clothed in all sorts of weapons. Several men in three cages let out sounds of surprise and astonishment, but Leif whispered. “Kirstie. Over here.”

Kirstie quickly counted thirty men. She figured she lost a quarter of her crew in whatever struggle they had with the locals before they surrendered. Carrots touched the lock and it fell away. She glanced at Jarl, but he just gave her mean looks, so she moved on.

“Get what weapons you can find, or whatever can be used as a weapon. We may have to fight our way out of here.” She looked again at Jarl, but he just returned her growl. She moved on. “Christians?” She asked the next group, and the man nodded. “Where from?”

“Devon, er, Wessex. We brought wool and grain, and ten head of cattle…”

“I am sure,” Kirstie interrupted. “Carrots,” she said, and the gnome removed the lock.

“Danes?” She asked the next group. The man by the gate nodded.

“And anxious to return their kindness.”

Kirstie nodded but ignored the comment. She said, “Pagan, Christian, Pagan, Christian. Sort of like boy, girl, boy, girl. I’m guessing the hag wanted you to talk to each other and make you doubt your faith. It is in the doubt that a hag can slip in with word of a living god, Abraxas.”

“So she said,” the man in the next cage spoke. Kirstie nodded to the man—young man, but she was not finished with the Danes.

“You Danes need to take the left side of the square and the broad road to the docks. Leif.” She raised her voice, though Leif was not far away. “You need to take the right side.” He nodded. Kirstie pointed to the Danish lock, so Carrots unlocked it. “Christians down the middle.”

She got to the last cage and the young man smiled for her. “We are Christians, mostly Anglo-Saxons from Northumbria.” He raised his hand like a child telling the absolute truth.

The older man next to him interrupted the eye lock Kirstie had with the young man. “That is where all this started, as near as we can tell. Northumbria was settled, a good Christian nation. Then the Vikings came, no offence, and everything got confused. Lindisfarne on the holy island got burned to the ground about a hundred years ago. Then, this Abraxas showed up and things got worse. Good neighbors began to fight one another. People you thought were good believers started following Abraxas. They talked about him as the god with us, and said the Christ was a god for people far away. Then, the hags showed up. They were terrible monsters of the worst kind, but they seemed to have sway over the people. Three, like sisters he sent to other shores. One to Scandinavia. One to Saxony. And one to Francia, though I did not expect her to be here in this small, unimportant port. We never should have come here. Are you listening?”

Medieval 5: K and Y 11 Troubles Come in Threes, part 1 of 2

Kirstie

Fiona, Oswald, and Edwin fit right in. Of course, the elves of the wood would continue to help out around the farm for several years, until the boys got big enough and learned enough to take over. Alm and Yrsa took the boys hunting from time to time, and they, along with Mariwood and Buttercup, became good friends with Fiona, so everything seemed well. Then the dwarfs came, and everything fell apart.

The trouble started when Harrold came home with a shipload of gold, silver, and jewels. He raided a town on the southeast coast of Wessex, or maybe in Cornwall with a friend of his from Steinker, the big town at the far north end of the fjord. The man’s name was Captain Ulf, which Kirstie immediately translated to the English Wolf. The name fit what she heard. They attacked a monastery, killed all the monks, and then attacked the town. They burned the church to the ground. They stole everything, and Kare was proud about that. Thoren, not so much.

“I almost have enough money to build my own longship,” Kare said proudly. “And I have good sailing experience now, too. One more raid like that and I should be set.”

“Most of the men at least share the bounty with their families,” Kirstie pointed out.

Kare shrugged her off. “My parents have enough. They get along just fine without needing any of my money.”

Kirstie shook her head, sadly. He did not get it, but she was thinking Kare’s mother had seven children. Kare was the eldest, and the woman was working herself to an early grave keeping the other six clothed and fed. Kare’s father was a nice enough man, but he was not much of a hunter or fisherman, either one, and his fields were not the best soil being full of rocks. “You could help out at home,” she said and watched her words go in one of Kare’s ears and out the other. He already moved on in his mind.

“I killed a man too,” he reported, like he was now even with Kirstie. He showed no remorse. To be sure, Kirstie was not entirely shocked by his attitude. For young men, given the culture they lived in, killing an enemy was almost a rite of passage. It said he was a man worthy of respect.

“I understand,” Kirstie said. “But you are not supposed to be happy about killing.”

Kare thought a second. “But how else would we get the silver and all. They were not just going to give it to us.”

“Trade works,” she said. “Trade is an option. Try trading something worth the silver.”

“Not a chance,” Kare responded, shook his head, and smiled at her. “I don’t have any amber or ivory lying around, or fairy picked honey to trade.” Obviously, Kare did his homework. Kirstie wondered which member of her crew talked, not that it was supposed to be a secret.

Kare reached out and took Kirstie by the shoulders. “I’ll share my silver with you when we get married.” He was going to kiss her, but she got her hands up and stopped him.

“I’m not old enough yet. I’m only fifteen. And it would help if you acted like love was not a foreign word to you.”

Kare let her go, but he protested. “I have wanted you since you were a child.” That was maybe as close as he ever got to expressing any sort of love.

“I am still a child as far as you are concerned.” Kirstie almost raised her voice. It was true that some married when they were as young as fifteen, but normally it was in the sixteen to eighteen range and tended toward eighteen. “You have to wait until I am of age.”

“Kirstie.” They heard a voice. Hilda was in the marketplace and waved. She looked about ready to burst.

“I have to go,” Kirstie said.

Kare looked angry, but he held it in. It was a look Kirstie would become very familiar with. He turned to his companion. “Come on, Thoren,” he said, and they stomped off. Kirstie hurried to her friend.

The second trouble, naturally, was the birth of Hilda’s baby. The baby was turned around and Mother Vrya tried everything she could think of to get the baby to turn, but to no avail. Inga and Kirstie showed up to hear the screaming. Inga could not think of what to do, but Mother Vrya did not hesitate to ask.

“Could Mother Greta do something, or maybe your Doctor Mishka?”

Kirstie raised her eyebrows but asked internally. Greta said she could not do any more than Mother Vrya already did. Doctor Mishka said she would look, but no promises. Kirstie reported what the good doctor said. “No promises,” and she went away so Doctor Mishka could come to her time and place. The doctor raised her hand and her bag appeared. She pulled out a stethoscope and began the examination. It did not take long.

“The umbilical cord is wrapped around the baby. Troels, get out, and take your friends with you.” Mishka looked around the room and got masks out of her bag. Mother Vrya and Inga both got masks. “Inga, please get the cauldron and put plain water in it. Put the baby cloths in to boil them clean. No soap. Then come right back here, I will need you to assist.” Mishka made Hilda drink some potion that would hopefully put her to sleep without killing her.

“A sleep potion?” Mother Vrya asked as Mishka exposed Hilda’s belly and puffed up the linens on both sides to catch the blood and whatever dripped. She got out a needle and checked what she had in her bag. “Here,” she handed Mother Vrya and jar. “Spread some of this ointment there.” Mother Vrya did as instructed; and a moment later reported that her fingers felt numb. Misha gave a groggy Hilda a shot and spoke again. “Your fingers should be fine in a minute. The shot is the important thing, a combined anesthetic and antibiotic. It would work better in her spine, but I don’t dare. Believe it or not, this is not the filthiest and most primitive conditions I have worked in.”

Hilda tried to speak. “Are you commenting on my housekeeping?”

“Close your eyes and sleep,” Mishka insisted.

“But it is still hurting.”

Mother Vrya went to stand close to Hilda’s head. “She is still having contractions.”

Mishka nodded and handed Mother Vrya a cloth. “Cover her eyes and hold her head still as you did before.”

“Ooh,” Hilda mouthed the word to indicate her pain was more than she made with the sound. The potion was working, but they still had to wait a minute for the anesthetic to kick in.

Inga came back in, and Mishka laid out her things on the table she dragged to the bedside. “Scalpel. Clamps. Sponge. Gauze. Thread.”

“I remember,” Inga said. They had to surgically remove some of the arrows on the battlefield. Performing an emergency C-section would be more complicated, especially with a wrapped umbilical, but they would do their best.

Mother Vrya gasped when Doctor Mishka cut into the patient’s perfectly healthy flesh. Hilda tried to say, “What is it?” but she mostly mumbled, half-asleep at least, and she could not move her hands to remove the cloth from her eyes so she could see.

Hilda eventually slept, and Doctor Mishka instructed Inga about post operative care while Mother Vrya swaddled the baby in the boiled-not-entirely-clean cloths. When Mother Vrya fetched the cloths, Troels came in all worried. They pulled up a chair for him to sit by his wife, and he mentioned, “Revna sent word that her water broke, whatever that means.”

Mishka and Inga both looked at Mother Vrya, but Mother Vrya waved off their concern. “It is her third and she goes long.” Mother Vrya took her time, and when she left, she said she would let them know if she needed their help.

“Your son,” Inga handed the baby carefully to Troels. “Do you have a name picked out?”

“Erik,” he said and smiled at the baby. “Erik Troelsson.”

“A fine name,” Mishka said.

“Harrold is going out again,” Troels said. “I am going with him in place of the crew he lost in his adventure.”

Mishka had a bad feeling about what the young man said. It turned out, he got to hold his baby before he got lost at sea. Then again, that meant Kare would be going to sea again, and inside, Kirstie felt some relief.

Kirstie turned sixteen and thought about Kare as little as possible. She did know that Revna had a girl, Astrid, and Kirstie wondered if Erik and Astrid might end up together, being birth mates and all. Some people went for that.

Medieval 5: Elgar 10 Guthrum and Alfred, part 2 of 2

Alfred sent out the word on April fifteenth to raise the army, what Elgar called tax day. The word was to gather at Egbert’s stone on May the first, or as Elgar yelled, “May day! May day!” Men came from all over Somerset, the largest army Somerset ever raised. Osfirth brought a thousand men from Devon alone. A large contingent came from inland Dorset, especially around Sherborne. Dorset and Hampshire did not strip their coastal defense, but the men from Hampshire, and Wiltshire for that matter were angered by the raids, and some in Wiltshire were doubly angry for being under Danish occupation.

Guthrum pulled his men in from Bath, Chisbury and the Malmesbury-Braydon area around Chippenham. He left his men in Wallingford and Oxford thinking to distract any army coming from further afield. Alfred, however, did not pick up many men came from eastern Berkshire, eastern Hampshire, Surrey, Kent, or Sussex, but in truth he did not need those men. With just the men who gathered between May first and fourth, Alfred’s men outnumbered the Danes three to two.

Alfred waited to make sure Guthrum came fully out into the field before he moved on the tenth. They met at Eddington where Elgar’s nephew Ian held the field with three hundred men on horseback. When the two great armies actually met, it was no contest. The Saxons routed the Danes at every turn. In the end, Guthrum had to take his decimated army back to Chippenham where Alfred followed and laid a near perfect siege.

Over the next two weeks, the eastern army out of eastern Berkshire, Surrey, Sussex, and Kent drove the Danes from Wallingford. The Danes in Oxford planned to fight until they saw the size of the opposing force. They agreed to peacefully abandon Oxford and return to London on Akeman Street and Watling Street so as not to disturb Berkshire and to stay away from Surrey. After those two weeks, when the eastern army showed up at Chippenham, Guthrum surrendered. Chippenham might have held out against the West Saxons for a couple of months, but Guthrum knew Alfred could just wait them out. Better to talk.

When Alfred, his ealdormen, and Elgar, Osfirth, and Gwyn representing the old men entered the room with Guthrum and his commanders, Alfred would only accept unconditional surrender.

“You think I am trapped here between my men and your men?” Guthrum growled. “You have no idea how trapped I am.” He took another chair and slammed it against the wall and broke it. “I am trapped between Heaven and Hell.” He unbuckled his sword and threw it after the chair before he fell to his knees and wept.

Elgar nudged Alfred, and Alfred got down beside the man and hugged him, which made him weep even harder. Elgar whispered to Osfirth and Gwyn, “Well, my work here is done.”

In good old man fashion, Gwyn responded, “What?”

~~~*~~~

Elgar helped Alfred pick out the locations for his thirty-three forts or Burghs that would defend Wessex against Mercian Danes or further intrusions. He helped Alfred design and build a fleet which could finally defend the coast of Wessex. Then he retired to his son’s house.

Alfred claimed Athelney Fort as an important place for the remembrance of the people of Wessex. It was from Athelney that Wessex, and maybe all of England was saved. And also, Alfred said, “Just in case.”

Eanwulf’s eldest son served Alfred faithfully as ealdorman of Somerset. The younger son got Watchet and took Elgar’s duty of the coastal watch. Elgar’s son finally got the house in Wedmore, so Elgar ended up living where Alfpryd did not want to go. Sadly, Alfpryd died several years earlier, but all their daughters made good marriages, so there was that.  Elgar’s daughter-in-law treated him like a dottering old fool. Elgar did not mind, though, he liked being pampered.

In his last year, Elgar had two visitors of note. The first was Pinoak who caught him up on the doings. Pinoak’s mother May passed away and Pinoak cried a little when he said his father Pinewood, and his great friend Deerrunner would not live much longer.

“It’s okay,” Elgar said and hugged the fairy. “We are all passing away, but life goes on. You just need to step up to lead. Your sister Heath, and your friend Marsham have moved to Northumbria where they are trying to keep an eye on Abraxas, the scoundrel. If you would not mind helping Reed keep an eyes on Alfred, all will be well.”

“I pray for my mother. Is that the right word? I pray that the source may find her time on this earth acceptable in his sight.”

“I am sure he will,” Elgar said. “And I pray for my old friends Gwyn and Osfirth, both of whom passed away recently.”

“I understand the king of Cornwall is looking at Osfirth’s son and thinking about getting Devon back. Osfirth’s son and Alfred are looking at Cornwall and agreed that if the man wants to start something, they will finish it.” Pinoak smiled. “As you once said, they may chase the man all the way to Land’s End. Alfred is talking about taking the rest of Devon and setting the border at the Tamar River. He is also saying Cornwall should be a client state, and maybe doesn’t need a king. Maybe an ealdorman would be better.”

Elgar nodded. “That sounds about right.” He chuckled, but just a little.

The other visitor came just a few days before Elgar finally passed away. It was Abraxas, and the first words out of his mouth was typical. “I am finally going to be rid of you.”

“Careful,” Elgar responded. “Don’t piss me off as long as I am alive, and I would not recommend it after I am gone, either.”

Abraxas stared at the ground for a moment before he confessed. “I can finally do what is in my mind to do.”

“It better not be trying to disturb history.”

“Not fair. Only you know what the future says.”

“Yes, and by the way, I was not happy that you put the fear into the Danes at Eddington. Alfred had things well in hand and did not need your help. I did not say anything sooner because that was the way things were supposed to go, so you guessed right for once… Don’t do it again.”

Abraxas looked at the ground again and looked like a child scolded. He vanished. He came to gloat but it did not work out that way.

Elgar thought it only fair to send a message to the future. Whoever I am in my next life, man or woman, sorry about that. I did get rid of the Flesh Eaters, not that they won’t be back, but sorry about leaving you with Abraxas. Maybe you will be lucky and be born on the other side of the world.

Medieval 5: Elgar 10 Guthrum and Alfred, part 1 of 2

As expected, Guthrum moved men into Chisbury, Wallingford, and Oxford, so along with his contingent in Bath he effectively controlled the northern half of Wiltshire and the western half of Berkshire. From there, he could raid Somerset, southern Wiltshire, northern Hampshire, once reaching all the way to Winchester, eastern Berkshire, and as far as Farnham in Surrey. While his ships continued to raid the coast, he expected Wessex to fall apart. All he did was make people mad.

His raiding parties were continually ambushed and came straggling back with nothing or did not come back at all. By April, it became hard to find men willing to go out from the protection of the towns. Guthrum’s men were frustrated, and not the least with Guthrum himself. The man did not seem to care what his army did. He locked himself away for days at a time and took his books with him because, unlike most of his army, he could read, being of the kingly line and having been educated in the court of the Danish king. He did not even seem surprised when he heard about the disaster in Devon and the death of Ubba. He simply returned to his room, slammed the door, and did not eat any supper.

When Guthrum first arrived in East Anglia with the Great Summer Army, late in the year of 871, he set himself to find out all he could about the people he faced, the Angles and Saxons as well as the Celtic people on the land. He read about the victories and defeats, especially the Danish failures in Northumbria and Wessex, and he gathered and talked to men who had been there. He knew Wessex would be hard to take and hold. He understood it took time to gather the army of Wessex and planned to move straight to the shore, at the root of the country where he could be supplied from the sea. He would work his way inland from there.

At the same time, and maybe it was inevitable, he wanted to understand who these people were. To that end, he got and read what sections of the Bible he could find. He spent days and weeks talking with the priests in East Anglia to get a firm Idea of what this faith was all about. He was a confirmed son of Thor, but this Christ began to eat at him.

When he argued with Halfdan Ragnarson and Halfdan took half of the army north to Northumbria, Guthrum warned him not to interfere with the work of the bishop in York and above all, leave Lindisfarne alone, not that he expected the man to listen. To be fair, Guthrum was not sure why he said that.

Guthrum burned his way to Wareham and got settled in the fortress there before Alfred could arrive with his army. Guthrum had taken hostages all across Wessex, but Alfred’s people had captured some of Guthrum’s men including a couple of ship’s captains from failed raids along the coast. It seemed reasonable to sit down and talk, at least about the exchange of hostages.

Guthrum learned that Alfred was building ships. They were presently in the east around Southampton, Portchester, and the Isle of Wight. Guthrum also noticed that unlike Athelred, Alfred was willing to listen to the men who knew about such things. The siege was well laid. Guthrum had no chance of breaking out of Wareham, much less raiding up into Hampshire or Wiltshire. And if the English were building ships, he knew his time in Wareham would be limited.

Alfred drew up a treaty to exchange hostages and where the Danes promised to leave Wessex, and Guthrum signed it. Guthrum talked to his English hostages, one of whom was a deacon that kept talking to him about the way of Christ, the importance of keeping one’s word and how it was the way of the strong to defend the weak and protect the innocents. It is fair to say Guthrum lashed out in anger when he killed the hostages and ran away to Exeter. For the first time, he fully understood what he did was wrong and worthy of hellfire.

Guthrum stayed in Exeter because of his indecision. Alfred followed and again laid siege to the town to force out the Danes, but Guthrum waited. He had relief ships on the way, a whole fleet of a hundred ships, and all the fighting men to go with them. When Alfred’s pitiful few ships arrived and blocked the Exe River, Guthrum scoffed. But when he learned that a storm in the Channel wrecked his relief fleet and scattered them all along the north coast of Francia, he yelled at his men and threw a chair across the room, breaking the chair.

“They could at least have had the decency to wreck on the shore of Wessex.

Once again Guthrum felt he had no choice but to sit down with Alfred and hammer out a peace treaty. This time, Alfred did not let him leave by sea. He forced Guthrum to march his men up the road nearly a hundred miles to Bath. There, the road would follow the border of Wiltshire and the Mercian client kingdom of Hwicce. Guthrum would be welcomed at any time to cross back into Mercia and leave Wessex alone.

Guthrum settled in Hwicce, including placing a contingent in Pucklechurch that could move on Bath when the time was right. Unfortunately for Guthrum, Hwicce was the most thoroughly Christian nation on the whole island with the believers making up almost one hundred percent of the population. For nearly a year, he could not go anywhere or talk to anyone without the word of God in Christ impacting his ears. He tried to focus on his mission, the conquest of Wessex, but he found it hard.

When Alfred came to Chippenham where he could keep his eye on the Danes in Hwicce, Guthrum thought of it as a gift. Turning the ealdorman of Wiltshire, Wulfhere, was not a hard thing. Dealing with Alfred’s spies took more finesse but it did not take long. He wanted to move on Chippenham over Christmas, but something told him to leave the Christian celebration alone. He broke another chair but waited.

When he finally moved on Chippenham, he was amazed Alfred escaped his hands. He quickly had men in Braydon and Malmesbury on the north end of the Avon River. His men met little resistance in Bath on the other end of the river. He decided for all his planning, Alfred must have been warned and escaped the city, but he had nowhere to go. He would soon be caught.

Guthrum sat in his room and stewed. He actually prayed but it took a long time for him to realize that was what he was doing. The Ubba disaster honestly did not surprise him. The lack of success of his raiding parties out of Wallingford, Chisbury, and Bath also did not surprise him. He figured out almost as fast as Alfred that they would have to meet on the battlefield and settle things once and for all. He fully expected that either he or Alfred would be killed, and that would end it.

Medieval 5: Elgar 8 The Struggle, part 1 of 3

Things finally heated up in 870. The Danes occupied Reading, a town on the border between Berkshire and Mercia. Both sides claimed the town, but presently, the Danes owned it. Athelred began to gather his army. The Danes waited. Given their failures in Wessex, this time they waited to see what Wessex would do first.

Ethelwulf, the ealdorman of Berkshire caught a foraging party sent out from Reading. The Danes were about half Ethelwulf’s numbers, but they fought well even if the outcome was inevitable. The battle took place near Englefield and Ethelwulf had a great victory there. King Athelred was greatly encouraged as he and his younger brother Alfred brought up the main portion of the army to join Ethelwulf and attack Reading. They hoped to drive out the Danes and remind the Danes that the West Saxons were not to be trifled with. It did not go as planned.

Athelred still did not know how to lay a town under siege, and he refused to listen to anyone like Elgar who knew how to do it properly. There were weak points and some actual holes in Athelred’s line of encirclement. The Danish commanders took advantage of that. They burst out of the gates and counterattacked. The West Saxon siege lines fell apart and Athelred’s army ran for their lives. Ethelwulf, the victor at Englefield just a few days earlier was killed. Athelred and Alfred escaped, but only with Elgar’s help.

Elgar took the two of them and much of the army by secret elf paths that the Danes would never find. They moved further in a sort time than humanly possible and soon got out of range of the Danish patrols. Athelred complained the whole time. Elgar simply replied, “Shut up,” and after a short time Alfred said the same thing.

The Danes wanted to follow up their victory at Reading. They arrived at Ashdown and divided their forces, planning to send half their army east toward Kent while the other half moved on Hampshire and the west. They were surprised when the West Saxon army arrived, mostly intact. Athelred copied the Danish formation, dividing his army between himself and Alfred. Then Athelred went to church, and some have thought he wanted to get God on his side.

“God knows the end from the beginning,” Elgar told Alfred. “He already knows who will win the battle. While it is good to submit to God and accept the outcome God decides, there is no way Athelred is going to bribe God or convince God to be on his side. I don’t think God is interested in taking sides when sinful men have a mind to kill each other. Our place is to fight just as hard as we can, to do our duty faithfully, but then to accept however the Lord decides to work things out. You cannot argue with God, and if he has decided one thing, you cannot change his mind. Faithfully do your part, do your duty with all of your might, but leave the outcome in God’s hands.”

Alfred understood. He prepared his half of the army to face the enemy and waited. He waited a long time, but Athelred never came out from his devotions, and finally Elgar’s men in green reported movement in the Danish lines. The Danes had camped along the ridge so they had the strong position. If they remained patient, the West Saxons would have had to charge uphill. But they got tired of waiting.

As the Danes came down, at least Alfred was ready. He charged, and Elgar had to use his little ones to keep the other Danish division from out flanking Alfred’s men. The division of Danes that faced Athelred’s men had to hastily fortify their camp against the uncanny marksmanship of the enemy. Meanwhile, Athelred continued to bargain with God.

Alfred won his battle. The Danes were defeated, and the other Danish division withdrew from the battlefield rather than remain to be picked off by arrows, one by one. It did not become a rout, but Alfred’s men, and the men from Athelred’s camp that joined them, continued to find pockets of the enemy that they chased well into the night. Athelred did not know where to go from there. He claimed a great victory, though he missed it, and because of that most of the Danish army survived.

The Danes first moved their army to the east rather than Hampshire and the heart of Wessex. They knew all about Weland and how he burned Winchester and that really angered the West Saxons. Besides, they hoped to pick up fresh men that currently held the northeast from London to Canterbury. Two weeks after Ashdown, Athelred and Alfred caught up with the Danes at the king’s estate of Basing. The battle was hard fought, but in the end the West Saxons had to withdraw. It was a victory for the Danes but a costly one as it turned out only the West Saxons got fresh men from Kent, Surrey, and Sussex; about two thousand.

Someone among the Danes figured out they were being followed and tracked. Elgar suspected Abraxas told them, but he decided not to find out. The Danes backed up. They went through Englefield and followed a zig-zag pattern up to Reading. They hoped to lose whoever was tracking them, but Pinoak and his fairy troop would never be fooled.

When the Danes got to Reading, they stayed for a month to lick their wounds. Athelred and the West Saxons did the same and appreciated the breather, but even Athelred understood the war was not over. At the end of February the Danes snuck out of the town under cover of darkness. Pinoak and his people were right there to watch. Athelred moved north while the Danes moved south and they met at a place called Meretun.

Meretun was another hard fought so-called victory for the Danes. They were losing for most of the day but managed to regroup at one point and pulled it out. The casualties on both sides were atrocious. Heahmund, the militant bishop of Sherborne died. He eventually got replaced by a man named Athelheah who seemed more concerned with the conduct of the church rather than the conduct of the army. Athelred was also badly wounded in the fighting. The Danes claimed the victory, but to be clear, the West Saxons pulled back when Athelred was wounded and could no longer fight.

He was carried all the way down the Dorchester Road to Wimborne where he finally gave up the fight and died of his wound. He was buried there, and that left Alfred as the last of the five sons of King Athelwulf. Athelred had married, and had two sons, but they were both infants. Alfred was young at twenty-three, but he was at least full grown and actually a bit older than Athelred had been when he took the crown.

While Alfred, Elgar, and Osweald of Dorset buried Athelred, the Danes thought to strike. Uncle Osric led the men of Hampshire, Wiltshire, and Berkshire to battle. Osric lost, but he did enough damage to the Danes to keep them from rampaging through the land. By the time Alfred arrived with men from Dorset and Somerset, he found the Danes at Wilton in Wiltshire. They managed to push well into Wessex, but they had failed to even reach Hampshire.

The battle was fierce. Once again it got counted as a Danish victory, but by then both sides were exhausted and hardly able to continue. It was an easy thing to arrange a meeting between the two sides. Alfred paid the Danes to go away, having the example of Burgred who paid off the Danes in Nottingham.

“Hopefully, this will give us enough time to rest and rebuild our forces for when they break their agreement,” Alfred explained.

Elgar, having turned fifty-one felt he was too old to argue. On the way home, he thought to stop in Athelney to check on the fortress there.

Medieval 5: Elgar 7 Second Chances, part 2 of 4

While King Athelwulf, Eanwulf, and Osric were off helping the Mercians beat down the Welsh, the king’s wife, Osburh caught a cold. As sometimes happened in those days, she died before Athelwulf got home. The king went into a time of seclusion. For some months, they could hardly get a word out of him.  Eventually, he would only speak to the priests and so perhaps it was no surprise when after two years he decided to make the pilgrimage to Rome. He took his younger sons, Athelred and Alfred with him.

Athelwulf’s eldest surviving son, Athelbald took the reins of the kingdom, though he was not the sharpest knife. Athelwulf made his next eldest son, Athelberht, subking over Kent, Surrey, and Sussex, though Athelbald did not allow Athelberht the same grace to rule that his father allowed him. Eanwulf and Osric liked having Athelbald in charge. He was easy to manipulate. And they supported Athelbald when Athelwulf returned and found his throne occupied.

While in Rome, Athelred and Alfred were tutored under the watchful eye of the pope. Alfred took to the learning and reading like the proverbial duck to water, in particular the histories, though he was only nine years old. He became fascinated to learn how Rome built such a mighty empire and organized itself to last a thousand years. He read about the saints and martyrs who struggled and sacrificed so much for the gospel and to convert the heathen. He read and received instruction about many things, and even at that young age, he recognized how the people of Wessex and the church in Wessex were hampered by the inability to read and the lack of books worth reading. He took a vow against his enemy, ignorance.

Athelred, by contrast, had little interest in the lessons. It is not that he was lazy, but his interests went more toward the martial arts. He did not mind learning about Caesar and hearing all about the battles. His was more of a romantic view of empire, of battles and conquest, not necessarily ruling. All the same, their father Athelwulf had both young boys invested in a way that proved their worthiness to rule. Athelwulf figured when he died, the older boys could not shave the younger one’s heads and stick them in a monastery somewhere to be forgotten.

When they left Rome after a year, they returned to the Carolingian court of Charles the Bald. Alfred, now ten, brought his trunk full of books. Athelred, fourteen, carried a sword with which his father hoped he would not cut himself.

Charles the Bald spent those days building alliances with outside kings and rulers as a balance against his own nobility that did not like him very much. Athelwulf, king of Wessex, certainly fit the bill. No one can say how Charles’ twelve-year-old daughter Judith came into the negotiations except to say Judith was a witch who had no intention of becoming a nun. She was beginning to chaff under the strict rules of her parents and wanted out. At her young age she had no business considering marriage, but it was all she could think of to escape. Besides, she figured the old man would not give her any trouble. He still loved his first wife, Osburh, and he would not live that long. She prepared herself to make sure of that.

When the family returned to Wessex, they found the throne taken and Athelbald would not be giving it up. Much to Athelwulf’s disappointment, his old friends Eanwulf of Somerset with Ealhstan, Bishop of Sherborne supported Athelbald, while Osric of Dorset sat on the fence between the two. Athelwulf, who was already not feeling well, was reluctant to start a civil war. He had the support of Hampshire, Wiltshire, and Berkshire, so he made a deal with his son. Athelbald took the western provinces of Somerset, Dorset, and Devon where Eanwulf’s friend Odda took the reins after his other friend Ceorle died in the 851 battle against the Danes. Athelwulf kept the central shires under his hand. Basically, Athelbald got the bishop of Sherborne while Athelwulf kept the bishop of Winchester. Athelberht in Kent, who refused to take sides, kept the bishop of Canterbury while the bishop of London was still technically claimed by Mercia, and by the Danes.

The agreement only lasted about a year. Athelwulf got sick and died just after the new year, 858, in Sussex, where he was buried. Athelbald moved back to Winchester and to the throne of Wessex. Then he did one thing that Elgar, Eanwulf, Osric, and the Bishop of Sherborne all agreed and advised against. He married Judith, now fifteen, his father’s widow. He did not know she was a witch.

It certainly was not Judith’s intention to be saddled with the son, but she saw no other way to power. At one time, she imagined after she got rid of the old man she might take the crown for herself, but that would never fly with these rude and ignorant Saxons. They called her queen, but in Saxon terms, the queen was no more than the king’s wife. Judith ruled through Athelbald for two and a half years, but it soon became too taxing to continue. The man was terminally stupid, and stubborn once he got a thought in his head. She controlled things well enough to get what she wanted, but he got on her every nerve. Athelbald was already sick with the same mysterious disease that killed his father when the Vikings under Weland burned Winchester. That happened in 860.

Charles the Bald originally contracted with the Viking Weland to drive out some other Norsemen that were threatening Paris from the north shore of Francia. Weland sort of succeeded. He gathered his army and put those Norsemen under siege until they paid him an ungodly amount of gold to go away. He thought this was a good thing. He heard about Athelwulf in Rome, how he lavished gold everywhere he went. He thought Wessex was just across the Channel. He imagined if he brought his army there, they might also pay him off to go away.

To his credit, Weland got all the way to the walls of Winchester before the army of Wessex gathered. He burned parts of the town, but he did not take the town before three times his numbers came from outside the city to confront him. Weland could not run fast enough. They fought, and Weland lost badly before he made it to his ships and escaped. The people of Wessex did not pay him off. They just got mad, and it was a mistake that got echoed in the halls of Denmark and Norway. The Vikings lost badly at the Parrett River. They lost again in 851 near Kingston in Surrey. Now, Weland had to tuck his tail and run. The message was don’t mess with Wessex.

Without knowing it, Weland did three things that might have proved troublesome in the future. His army managed to kill two ealdormen, the leaders in Berkshire and Hampshire. Poor Wulfheard of Hampshire was the father of Eanwulf’s wife, so he was family in a sense. And he had no sons, so the position stayed vacant for a while. For the hat trick, Weland’s army drove Athelbald from the city and nearly caught him in a skirmish outside the city walls. Athelbald received a cut in his arm which was not life threatening, but he was already weak from being sick.

Athelbald ran to Sherborne, to where he imagined his friends lived. The Bishop, Ealhstan, received him as the king, but he did not show any great friendship. Eanwulf did not even bother to visit. Instead, he sent Elgar.

Elgar spent the last seven years at home where his wife finally gave him a son to go with his four daughters. He felt it was about time since he turned forty in 860. In those seven years, he only drove off two Viking raids, and he figured one landed on his shore by accident. He guessed they were headed toward Glywysing in Wales and got turned around in the storm. It would have been nice to think he spent those years in peace and quiet, but no such luck.

Some of that time got spent receiving reports about the would-be god Abraxas. The god settled in Northumbria, on the opposite side of the island from where Elgar was located in Somerset. Marsham the elf and Pinoak’s fairy sister, Heath, both moved into the area where they could watch the god closely. Both married into the local elf tribe and fairy troop and settled in to do their duty. Abraxas seemed to be moving quietly around the area, though he brought in more Danes and Norsemen than Elgar imagined was healthy. Elgar guessed Abraxas wanted the pagan Vikings and English Christians to clash in their culture and faith and cause uncertainty in many minds. Elgar concluded that Abraxas could take advantage of that uncertainty. He would have to watch it.

The rest of the time, he kept one eye on the Flesh Eaters who abandoned the Earth only to land on the moon. From there, they regularly sent shuttles back to earth to pick up whole herds of animals, sometimes including cattle and sheep, and the occasional farmer and rancher. More concerning was the three-person bombers being used as scout ships and to deliver Flesh Eater counselors to the Danish throne.

Elgar’s elf spies suspected the Flesh Eaters were using their mind control devices on certain chiefs, counselors, and elders throughout Scandinavia. It was impossible to tell, or prove, because the elves knew nothing about that level of advanced technology, and the men behaved perfectly normally, as far as the elves could tell, even if their instructions came from the moon.

Elgar hoped the Flesh Eaters left Earth and were only hiding out on the moon until things settled down in deep space. Once the battles between the Apes and Flesh Eaters quieted down out among the stars, Elgar hoped these local Flesh Eaters would leave the solar system altogether. He was willing to let them visit and gather food as long as that food consisted of deer, cattle, sheep and the like. He was not happy about the occasional rancher or farmer they took with the herds, but at least they stopped eating the Geats on a regular basis.

Elgar talked to Reed, his house elf, the one who gathered all the information brought in by the elf and fairy spy networks. “Hopefully, when the fireworks in deep space settle down, these Flesh Eaters will leave altogether.”

“Hopefully,” Reed agreed, but all they could do was watch and wait. “It has been fifteen or sixteen years. How long will this war in space continue?”

“Eighteen years since the Apes found the Flesh Eater home world,” Elgar said and shook his head. He thought to explain what he could. “It takes a week, or two with bad winds, to travel from Denmark to England. But in space, the stars they travel to are not necessarily next to each other. To sail from Copenhagen all the way around to the Mediterranean to raid in Provence, Italy, or get to Constantinople takes months, maybe a year or two. In space, the distances are vast. Even at faster than light speed, it can take months or years just to get to an Ape colony or Flesh Eater colony. The actual fighting does not last long. It is the travel to get to the battlefield that takes forever. It is not much different on Earth. Armies gather, and most of the time is spent just getting there.”

Reed nodded that he understood.

Medieval 5: Elgar 6 Wessex, Take Notes, 1 part.

In the year 850, the first wave of the Danish invasion of England began off the coast of Kent where King Athelwulf’s son, Athelstan, ruled as sub-king over Kent, Sussex, and Surrey. With his ealdorman from Kent, Athelstan defeated a Danish fleet. It was a pyrrhic victory. Athelstan died shortly after the battle, and a few months later, an ungodly number of Norse ships landed in the Thames estuary. Kent no longer had the ships to hold them off. The Danes sacked Canterbury, besieged Rochester, and overran London.  This was no simple raiding party.

When London fell to the Norsemen, King Berhtwulf of Mercia brought out his army. Berhtwulf lost. The army of Mercia was devastated and they appealed to Wessex for help. Kent, which at that time was nominally part of Wessex, also appealed to King Athelwulf. As soon as the Norsemen overran London, even before the Danes pushed up the Thames, Athelwulf sent out a call to arms. He only hoped men would come in number to at least match the reported five thousand Danes. It would have been more Danes, but Ragnar, the son of Lodbrok wanted no part in the invasion of Wessex. He took part of the army north to invade Northumbria instead.

Elgar gathered his three hundred and accepted an additional hundred from Odda in north Devon. When they joined Eanwulf’s six hundred that made a thousand men out of Somerset. The whole sub-kingdom in the east, Kent, Sussex, and Surrey only added a thousand to the number, though to be fair, Kent was already struggling for control of Rochester, Faversham, Canterbury, and Dover. For the most part, everything east and north of Watling Street was in Danish hands.

The rest of the army, the three thousand had to come from what had always been the heart of Wessex: Hampshire, Berkshire, Wiltshire, Dorset, and the Isle of Wight. Athelwulf and his Ealdormen managed it but they needed the three hundred Ceorle was able to bring from Devon to do it. They only hoped the Danes did not come up with any surprising, uncounted men at the last minute.

Elgar, now age thirty, led the men of Somerset. Eanwulf stayed home with his wife, Wulfram, who was pregnant in her mid-thirties and having a hard time of it. She was confined to her bed on doctor’s orders and Eanwulf was afraid to leave her for fear that he might lose her. It worked out, even when Elgar appointed his friends Osfirth the Saxon and Gwyn the Celt as his chief lieutenants.  They were also over thirty and a majority of the army was younger, war being a young man’s game. Besides, the older men in the army, in particular those who fought at the Parrett River knew it was Elgar who engineered the victory. Men did not mind following a winner. It gave them confidence that they would get home alive.

King Athelwulf was not entirely happy that Eanwulf stayed home, but Osric of Dorset convinced the king that he got the better of the deal getting Elgar in Eanwulf’s place. He told the king, “We matched the Danes the way they fight and our good men beat their good men.” That was not exactly true, but it sounded good.

The Danes built their line between a forest and a bend in the river so the West Saxons could not use their horsemen to strike their flank or rear. Clearly, some of the leaders of the Danes had been at the Parrett River and saw how affective a cavalry charge could be. Elgar prepared for that. He filled the forest with his men in green, all excellent archers. Then he struck the Danish line in a way to turn them, so their backs would be toward the woods. It sort of worked. Mostly the men on the riverside got pushed back, creating a space between the lines and the river.

This time, the Danes also had about two hundred horsemen. No doubt they stole the horses on their way through Kent, London, and up the Thames. They were learning. The men of Wessex also had about two hundred men on horseback, but Elgar only counted a hundred and forty worth anything. Most of the rest were servants, monks, and priests not there to fight. Elgar had to charge his men to fight the Danish horsemen in the first real cavalry fight almost since Roman times. The Saxons got the worst of it, being outnumbered, but they did keep the Danes from crashing into the Saxon line in payback for what happened at the Parrett River.

Once the back of the Danish line came within range of the woods, they began to be devastated by Elgar’s archers. They would not last long if something was not done. The Danish commander had to send his reserves into the woods to rout out the enemy there, but not many of them would come back out of the woods. There were dwarfs there, and even some dark elves in the shadows just itching to use their axes on the enemy, and the archers disappeared only to reappear as soon as the Danish reserves passed them by.

After that, the Danes very quickly began to surrender. King Athelwulf with his son Athelbald and his ealdormen deserve the credit for restraining their men, a bunch of wild Saxons filled with blood lust.

Osfirth rode up to Elgar and pointed across the river. It took a minute to see what Osfirth was pointing at. He just caught it when Gwyn rode up and turned his eyes in the direction Osfirth pointed. Then everyone looking in that same general direction caught it as the Flesh Eater mothership rose up from where it parked and no doubt watched the battle. It did not hover for long before it shot off to the east, toward Kent, East Anglia, or across the water to Danish lands. It happened so fast less men saw it than one might think.

“If you blinked, you missed it,” Gwyn mouthed the old expression.

“Where do you think they are going?” Osfirth asked.

Elgar shrugged. Reed, Pinoak, and Marsham would all find out and report.

The men of Wessex marched many prisoners to Kingston on the Thames where they would hammer out a peace treaty with the Danes. Thus, the first wave of invasion by the Norsemen petered out, though many Danes stayed in the land and settled in places like Mercia, Essex and East Anglia, and southern Northumbria, in the old kingdoms of Lindsey and Deria around York.

As it turned out, the Northumbrians also found a way to victory. Ragnar Lodbrok and his men ravaged the countryside for a time, but eventually the Northumbrians built an army that won the day. Ragnar was captured and legend says he was thrown into a pit of snakes. The legend also says he issued threats even as he died. He swore he had sons who would avenge him, but the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms would have to wait for that. In fact, they had to wait fifteen years for those sons to get old enough to make good on that threat.

~~~*~~~

Elgar went home to Watchet and his girls where he worried less about the Norsemen and more about the Flesh Eaters and what they were planning. They had been good, relatively speaking. They were not eating many people, but rather using people to further their aims of bringing the world into their orbit where they could feast at their leisure. They were experimenting, and the Norsemen were their guineapigs.

“The men around Rochester in Kent were fitted with mind control devices,” Pinoak reported. “It did not work out too well.”

Elgar understood. “Men controlled in that way, or by some enchantment, don’t respond well to changing situations. They are slow to react and in a battle situation that is a quick way to die.”

Pinoak also understood. “I believe the Flesh Eaters may abandon that idea. They brought their mothership to watch and take readings to see the results.”

“I saw,” Elgar said and turned to Marsham. “So, Northumbria…”

“Nothing I could do to stop it,” Marsham said right off. “Warthog was determined to get in on the action.”

“The son of Piebald the dwarf,” Elgar frowned.

“The same,” Marsham said. “And Hassel and Heath brought their troop to observe, but I know they got in some target practice.”

“My sister, Heath,” Pinoak said proudly before he got quiet seeing that Elgar was not pleased.

“And some of your own elf troop came up from the Coquet River, don’t tell me… They could not help themselves.”

“Lord,” Marsham said and looked down like one prepared to be punished.

“You all know the rule,” Elgar thought hard and projected his thoughts so he could include Warthog and Hassel in the message though they were miles from the Somerset coast. “You are not to mingle with humans or get involved in human squabbles or wars without permission. Lucky for you, history has accounted for this, though creating a snake pit so the humans could throw the Danish leader into the pit was unnecessarily cruel. Don’t do it again.” He cut the message and mumbled to himself. “It’s like Serket all over again.”

“Lord, your brother’s friend Ceorle, ealdorman of Devon was killed in the cavalry struggle,” Reed said to change the subject.

Elgar nodded. “Odda has been given the job. I talked with him and with Osfirth. Osfirth has been trained in the coastal watch and he has agreed to take Odda’s place between Countisbury and Pilton so Odda can move to Exeter. I am going to miss Osfirth on the Parrett River, but I have good men in Combwich since we drove out the Danes from that place, and he will have Gwyn in Carhampton as his neighbor, so all should work out well.”

“You hope,” Reed said.

“That is all we can do,” Elgar said. “Keep me informed as far as the Flesh Eaters are concerned. If they don’t soon figure out that the human race will never unite and submit to being eaten and leave this world of their own accord, I may have to pay them a visit and force the issue.” He paused and thought a moment before he added, “I especially want to know if they start breeding. We don’t need them to start a colony here.”

He walked into his house and thought he should bring Genevieve to talk to his wife and daughters. She could at least follow along with all that prattle.

“Hey!” Genevieve protested.

************************

MONDAY

Second chances matter, and the sons of King Athelwulf begin to show some promise. Untl Monday, Happy Reading.

*

Medieval 5: Elgar 4 Carhampton, the Sequel, part 1 of 2

King Ecgbert died in 839 and Athelwulf returned from Kent to take the crown of Wessex. It was not quite as easy as it sounds. Among the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, there were always other claimants to the throne. But King Ecgbert did everything he could both before and after he returned from Hingston Downs to assure Athelwulf’s  ascension to the throne would be smooth and uncontested. If he succeeded, Athelwulf would be the first son to follow his father to the throne in nearly two hundred years.

Ecgbert took his son to Kingston upon Thames in Surrey, well within Athelwulf’s subkingdom of Kent, Sussex, and Surrey and they met the bishops of Winchester and Canterbury there. They granted land to the churches and certain rights concerning the disposition of the monasteries in their jurisdictions along with pledges to protect and defend the church under their watch.

Once the church was firmly on their side, he turned to the cultivation of his Ealdormen, his chief sub-rulers for the shires that made up Wessex. For the most part, he was content with the men he had overseeing the shires of the West Saxons, including the frontier shires with Eanric in Somerset and now Godric in Devon. His only questions were for Dorset where his friend Oslac could hardly get out of bed.

Oslac was pivotal to Ecgbert gaining the throne all those years ago. He carefully cultivated that friendship, even marrying his son to Oslac’s daughter, Osburh, who gave him grandsons. Now, Oslac’s brother Ethelhelm was running things in the shire. He was not doing a bad job of it, but he was not found anywhere near the battle. How unbecoming of a Saxon. At least Oslac’s son and Osburh’s younger brother, Osric, proved at Hingston Downs that he knew the value of a good sword. Still, Ethelhelm was old and had no sons, so Osric would probably take over once the old man died. He let it go. His most trusted men had no kingly ambitions, and that was what mattered.

His review of his Thegns took even less time. He spent his first twenty years on the throne getting rid of most of the men who might have challenged Athelwulf for the throne, that and fighting Mercia. He felt proud of his time as king and promptly died in 839, was buried at Winchester, and Athelwulf took the throne. Athelwulf appointed his own son, Athelstan to be sub-king of Kent, Surrey, Sussex, and with nominal rule over Essex in his place, and life stumbled on.

Godric of Devon was the first to pass away after the king. Ceorle took his place. Elgar called it a no-brainer. In 840, Elgar turned twenty and Alfpryd turned sixteen, and they could not wait given father’s condition. They married and Alfpryd had a daughter they called Alfwynn. Then Elgar’s father died, Eanwulf became the Ealdorman, and he moved his family from Wedmore back to Somerton where Wulfrun could help watch over Mother.

Both of Elgar’s sisters, the elder Eadburg of Wiltshire, with her husband Godderic of Edington, and the younger Eadswip of Dorset with Osric, son of the ealdorman traveled to Somerton to visit Mother and share in their grief. Eanwulf’s childhood friends, Ceorle and Odda showed up shortly after, and it felt briefly like old home week. Then Athelwulf arrived with Osburh and their two younger sons Athelbald and Athelburt, and their daughter, Athelswith who was the eldest of the three children.

Athelswith and pregnant Alfpryd hit it off, and his sister Eadswip stayed with them, much to Elgar’s chagrin.  Osburh got to meet Elgar who was otherwise ignored by the older men. Elgar took that moment to pick on his sister Eadswip, Osric’s wife.

“I’ve been surrounded by women my whole life,” Elgar complained.

“Is that a bad thing?” Eadswip asked.

Elgar realized he was in danger of saying the wrong thing as Athelswith, Osburh, Eadswip and Alfpryd all looked at him expecting an answer. He said, “As long as I can be surrounded by the woman I love, no. That is a good thing.” He gave Alfpryd a quick kiss and hastily retreated.

Athelwulf came to confirm Ceorle in Devon and Eanwulf in Somerset. He talked to Osric about Dorset and his uncle Ethelhelm. Osburh came mostly to visit with her brother Osric who she so rarely got to see. Sadly, they were both commiserating when word came that Oslac the Bedridden, as he came to be called, was the last of the old men to die.

Osburh and the king, with Eadswip and Osric hurried to Dorchester, stopping only briefly in Sherborne to visit the Bishop there. Ceorle and Odda had to get back to Devon. Ceorle said he worked things out with Odda where Odda would oversee the coast from the fort at Countisbury to Pilton as a kind of land grant to defend the coast against the Danes. “I won’t let you down,” Odda said, several times.

Godderic and Eadburg stayed with Mother for a short while, but Godderic was not a sociable person. He was nice, but he did not say much, and became totally tongue tied around the king. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, Eadburg did not mind talking for two, and then some. When they left to return to Eddington, Eanwulf came into the room where Alfpryd and Elgar were cuddling and Wulfrun and Mother worked on sewing something. Eanwulf let out a great sigh.

“Ah, silence,” he joked before he looked at Elgar and got serious. “Hard to believe you are old enough to be married,” he said and added, “Have you considered what I asked you?”

“What?” Alfpryd immediately needed to know, and Elgar told her.

“He says with him and Wulfrun and their children living here, soon there will not be room enough for us and our children as well. He has suggested a trade. Maybe we take the house in Wedmore. What do you think?” Alfpryd wrinkled her nose at the idea of Wedmore.

“Speaking of children,” Wulfrun said, and got up to go check on hers.

“Not before the baby,” Mother raised her voice. She did not want to miss seeing her grandchild.

Eanwulf threw his hands up and Elgar kissed his wife.

841 sped by with only one event of note. A small number of Danish ships, around a half-dozen, were reported to have landed on the Isle of Portland around the first of the year. Osric immediately raised the army of Dorset, about six hundred men, mostly from Dorchester, Wimborne, Wareham, and Swanage. Ethelhelm stopped him from getting men from the north, from Shaftesbury or Woodyates or the west from around Sherborne. He figured six ships could not be more than two hundred and fifty, or at most three hundred men and they had double without going so far afield.

“Besides,” Ethelhelm said, trying to sound fatherly. “This is what the king expects of us, to defend the border. He would hardly be pleased with us if we bother him with every petty bunch of heathens that park on our shore.” He honestly did not understand the danger, and he never imagined the report he got might be mistaken. In fact, there were thirteen ships and over five hundred Danes who looted, pillaged, and burned churches in Portland and all the way up to Weymouth.

The battle was fierce, not at all what Uncle Ethelhelm expected. When the Danish commander threw in his fifty kept in reserve, the thirty men on horseback of Osric had to dismount and join the fray to keep the line from falling apart. Even then, they might have lost if fifty locals had not come up behind the Danes, hungry for revenge. The Danes squeezed out from the trap and hurried back to their ships. They left some of their men to die, and the men from Dorset did not have the strength to chase the rest. The Danes sailed free with plenty of treasure. Their crews might have been slim, but they were not going to leave any good ships behind..

When all was over, Uncle Ethelhelm was dead and Osric became ealdorman of Dorset. It was not the way Osric expected that to happen.

In 842, Elgar and Eanwulf rode Somersetshire, and got to know many of the Thegns and elders who talked for the people in the towns, villages, and on the farms in Somerset. They were mostly pleased to hear Eanwulf planned to continue the policies of his father, even to retaining the same Reeve, which is to say, tax collector. They all knew Eanwulf, of course, or said they did. They did not know twenty-two-year old Elgar, but he managed to impress the ones that mattered.

Elgar took Gwyn and Osfirth with him and visited on the less populated west side of the Parrett River. Eanwulf, with a troop of men, took the more populated east and north where Muchelney, Glastonbury. Wells, Wedmore, and Bath were located.

Elgar started at Athelney, the Misty Island before he went upriver to the main road between Somerton and Exeter. He went down the road to the border with what was now Saxon Devon and traveled up the border all the way to the coast, even cutting through Exmoor. He took Reed the elf with him, well disguised as a human hunter. Reed knew the way through the swamps and brought them safely to the small bay between Countisbury and Carhampton. Then they went up the coast to the Parrett River and back up to Athelney to complete the circle. Granted, they did some zigzagging enroute, but honestly, there were not great numbers of people living on the west side of the Parrett. Most lived on the river, the road, the border below Exmoor, or the coast so their circle route got to most of them. Besides that, only about half of the people on his side of the river were Saxon people. Plenty were British, so Gwyn and Osfirth both got a workout.

When they got back to Somerton, Eanwulf asked again about where Elgar planned to live.

“What about Athelney?” Elgar said.

“You mean Moringa, the Noble Island as father called it,” Eanwulf sought clarification.

“That’s the place. Father built a great house there next to the monastery as a redoubt in case the Mercians ever pushed into Somerset. There are still caretakers there and the monks farm the property.”

“I’m not sure Father ever finished building there,” Eanwulf said, thinking of the cost.

“He finished,” Elgar responded. “I visited there just now to look. It is big, a virtual fort. Alfpryd and I can have a big family there.”

Eanwulf did not think for long before he shook his head. “The mists come up strong in that place. The island is too hard to get to. People can pass by the place without ever knowing it is there. And even if they know, the area is a real swamp, a quagmire of mud and muck, very dangerous unless you know the way. No. There is a reason Father bult a stronghold there against possible Mercian incursion into the territory.”

“Just a thought,” Elgar said. The idea was moot in any case. Alfpryd, at eighteen, was pregnant again, and Wulfrun, who was twenty-nine, was also pregnant.

Medieval 5: Elgar 1 Baby of the Family, part 2 of 2

Edgar and his young son Eanric succeeded in overcoming the last Welsh stronghold in Somerset, the fortress of Watchet. King Beorhtric made Edgar ealdorman of an undefined Somerset because he was already doing the job of defining and defending the border with Hwicce to the north and Devon to the south. Beorhtric spent all of his time trying to hold on to his crown in the face of Mercian aggression. He honestly had little time to spend worrying about the western frontier.

When King Beorhtric died and Ecgbert returned from Gaul and the court of Charlemagne to take the crown of Wessex, his attention was all against Mercia and focused east on Kent where his father Ealhmund used to be king. He readily confirmed Beorhtric’s charters making the bishop of Sherborne responsible for the faith west of the Selwood, Oslac as ealdorman of Dorset, and Edgar as ealdorman of the still loosely defined Somerset shire. Edgar did not live long after that, but Ecgbert confirmed the son, Eanric, Elgar’s father, and made it, or at least suggested that the title might be hereditary as long as the family gave good service on what was considered the frontier.

When Elgar turned five, his older brother Eanwulf accompanied father who joined his men of the marshes to the army of the king. King Ecgbert crushed the Mercians at that time and Eanwulf got to know the slightly older son of the king, Athelwulf. They got along and became friends. The following year, Athelwulf led the army into Kent where he threw out the Mercian appointed king and took the crown. Athelwulf became the subking under his father Ecgbert and ruled in the east, in Kent, Sussex, and Surrey.

Most Saxons in Somerset were freemen and most owned a bit of property, which they farmed. That was fine in times of peace, but to be clear, Anglo-Saxon culture was a warrior culture. The men learned and knew how to fight, and they taught their sons to follow after them, and to be sure, the British people who were still free and still owned their land followed the Saxons in learning the art of war even as they followed the Saxons in battle. When the Danes came to Anglo-Saxon land in the 800s, they came to fight, raid, and eventually to invade and conquer. Some think the Anglo-Saxon kings and ealdormen fought at a disadvantage because their armies were full of conscripted farmers and tradesmen, but in truth, when the Saxons got to the battlefield and it was time to fight, they knew the business and fought like warriors. They could go just as berserk as any Viking on the field. It would be years, another century or two before the Anglo-Saxon warriors became full time Anglo-Saxon farmers.

With the power of Mercia broken, King Ecgbert and his son, Athelwulf got the kingdom of East Anglia, or at least Essex and the kingdom of Northumbria to acknowledge Ecgbert’s status as overlord of all the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms but apparently, that did not translate into the larger world because certainly the Danes saw England as a land divided among several squabbling kingdoms who did not have the unity to stand against being raided and eventually invaded. That was one of the things Elgar had to face when he came of age. In fact, it began when he turned sixteen.

“Father. Where are we going?” Sixteen-year-old Elgar rode behind his father, beside his two friends from Somerton. Osfirth, the Saxon was just fifteen. Gwyn, the Brit would turn seventeen first. They all wanted to know where they were headed because they rode to the northwest, toward the coast and Exmoor, the wilds of the shire, a direction Elgar and his friends never went. There were stories about strange things that happened in the wilds of Exmoor.

Eanwulf, who rode beside father, turned his head back to answer them. “Carhampton. It is a nice town. I’ve visited once when Father had me run the border and check on the defenses there. It is where my friend Odda lives. You remember Odda?”

Elgar nodded. Odda was one of the younger ones in Eanwulf’s gang. He must have married and moved to the border, or Father moved him to watch the border. Elgar had more questions. “But why are we and the king and this whole army going there? Have the Welsh broken the border?”

“Danes,” he said. “Danes have landed there and taken the town. We need to take it back and push them out of our land.”

That was all the boys were going to get out of their elders. They had to wait until they got there, but when they arrived, they were not permitted anywhere near the actual battle for the town. They were kept back with the king’s company where they could not see much, but what they could see allowed Elgar to give color commentary.

“You can see there are more Danes present than were expected. This is not just a raiding party like we have heard about. No one expected them to come out from behind the stockade and face the army. But I can see the sides are about even. The king brought his personal retinue and picked up a few from Wiltshire and Hampshire, maybe Sherborne while on the way to Somerton, but most of the army is from Somerset and maybe Dorset, and many did come out, but they did not expect to face so many Danes.”

“Not so,” Osfirth objected to Elgar’s assessment. “I think we have more than they have.” He had his hand up and pointed with his finger like he was counting.

“No, look beyond the two lines.”

“Where?” Gwyn asked and craned his neck.

“There, by the gate,” Elgar answered. “There are about a hundred, maybe two hundred men there not in the line.”

“Why are they not in  the line?” Osfirth asked. “Are they afraid to fight?”

Elgar looked at Osfirth like he went stupid. “They would not come all this way from Daneland unless they intended to fight. No. They are holding some men in reserve so when the lines begin to break and our line is all tired out, they will charge in, fresh troops anxious for the kill and it will probably be enough to completely break our line.”

All eyes turned to the battle as the lines met. The king’s men who listened in to what Elgar was saying paid close attention. One even said, “Now,” when the Danish line seemed to falter. The Danish commander waited a bit longer, until the Danish line straightened itself out again. He trusted his men. He had good men. Then he pressed in with the fresh troops, and as Elgar predicted, the West Saxon line fell apart.

The king and father Eanric were able to save plenty of their men. Unlike some such engagements, the Danes did not pursue their defeated foe. Elgar noted that they did not have the horses or horsemen to do that. Instead, they went back into the city while the king and Eanric set a camp two-days distance from the enemy and sent out riders to gather more men.

Elgar got called into the king’s camp to tell what he surmised about the battle. Some guardsmen overheard him and told the king. Father and Eanwulf were both there standing among the officials, looking stern, the same basic look on each of their faces. Elgar almost laughed to see it, but he kept his composure and stuck to what he saw and what he figured. He had not yet worked out the ideas of a coastal watch or strengthening of the ports and the walls around coastal cities and towns such as Genevieve did, or the idea of a rapid deployment force like the one Gerraint worked out with Percival and King Arthur. He stuck with what he perceived concerning the battle and felt glad his father and big brother did not say anything negative.

Elgar and his friends were sent home after that, but it did not matter.  The Danes must have assumed the West Saxons would be back and in much greater numbers, so they collected their loot and returned to sea. There were other fish to fry.

Medieval 5: Elgar 1 Baby of the Family, part 1 of 2

Elgar

After 820 A. D. Wessex, England

Kairos 103 Thegan Elgar of Somerset

At four years old, nearly five, Elgar sat by the barn contentedly making a mess in the mud when a monster of a dog came roaring around the corner of the barn, barking, growling, and showing all of her teeth. Elgar tried to make himself even smaller than he was, but he looked behind him. A rabbit perked up its head and scurried away as fast as it could hop.

“Gifu!” Elgar yelled at the dog several times before the dog decided the rabbit was not worth the chase. It trotted back and plopped down beside the boy and Elgar slung one arm around the beast. “I’m glad you are watching out for me,” he told the dog. “Mother is inside, and my sisters are learning stuff about cooking and sewing and all that stuff.”

Gifu licked his face before she let out a little bark and stood up. Elgar looked behind again and thought he might stand up as well. The big boys were coming up to the house. Elgar wiped the mud from his hands and stared at his brother. Eanwulf and his friends, Ceorle, Odda, and the rest were all around eighteen, and they looked like men in Elgar’s eyes but he was getting tired of everyone treating him like a baby. He picked up his wooden toy sword and pointed it at his brother.

“Defend yourself,” he said.

Eanwulf threw his hands up and made a pretend scared face. “Oh, I surrender,” he said, and his friends laughed. He got serious for a second. “Isn’t it time for supper? You better not track mud into the house.” He turned to say goodbye to his friends. they went into the barn and got their horses for the ride home.

“Where are you going?” Elgar took that moment to ask. “You and Father?”

Eanwulf looked at his little brother, the wooden sword in Elgar’s hand, and smiled. “Mercia,” he said. “The king is taking us into Mercia to fight old King Beornwulf of Mercia.”

“But you just got back from Devon,” Elgar complained.

“The West Welsh needed to be put in their place,” Eanwulf agreed.

“But Mother and the girls…” Elgar paused and looked at Gifu who sat patiently beside the boys and panted. Eanwulf waved to his friends as they rode off before he turned Elgar to walk up to the house.

“What about Mother?” he asked.

“They treat me like a baby when you and father are not here,” Elgar admitted.

Eanwulf’s smile grew, and he let out a small laugh. He looked down at his brother like his brother was a baby, and Elgar thought to change the subject.

“You better not get killed.”

“Not planning on getting killed. Why?”

“I don’t want to be ealdorman. Not ever,” Elgar answered.

Eanwulf laughed again, and made Elgar take his muddy boots off before going inside. Father met them at the door and spoke to his elder son. “Eat up. We leave in the morning.”

Elgar got trapped by his sisters. “You are a mess,” Thirteen-year-old Eadburg scolded him, like she was his mother. She took one of Elgar’s hands. “You need a bath right after supper.” That was something Elgar was not looking forward to.

“Did you roll in the mud?” eleven-year-old Eadswip clicked her tongue and took the other hand. They practically carried him to the table and sat him in the highchair he hated where he had to sit still and wait for the servants to bring the supper. He considered wiggling and being uncooperative, but that would just get him in trouble with Mother. Mother thought it was lovely the way his sisters took care of the baby. Mother called it lovely. Elgar thought of it as repugnant. Even if he was not old enough to know the word, repugnant, that was what it was.

Father named him Eangar, using the Ean from his own name, Eanric, and the gar from his grandfather, Garric, and his own father, Edgar. But his mother called him Elgar and so did his sisters, and in time, so did the rest of the family and friends so father got outvoted.

When Elgar was old enough to make some friends of his own in Somerton, where he lived, he got some respite from being mothered to death by his older sisters. He did not escape their attention, however, until his older sister, Eadburg, married a thegn from Eddington in Wiltshire when she turned nineteen, and his other sister, Eadswip married Osric, son of Oslac, the ealdorman of Dorset in the next year when she turned eighteen. Osric got the job when his uncle, Oslac’s brother Ealdorman Ethelhelm, being childless, was killed by Danes in Portland early in the 840s. Elgar was twelve when Eadswip married. He felt relieved, though he did actually miss his sisters once in a while.

Mother was getting old. Elgar had been a surprise and unexpected child in her middle age, which in those days was around thirty-five. By the time the girls married, she turned forty-seven. Most of the time, the house was quiet and peaceful, but only because Father was away most of the time. When he came home, nothing was ever right. He yelled a lot. Fortunately, he still treated Elgar like a child, so Elgar was not the recipient of most of the yelling. He did occasionally yell that the boy’s name was Eangar, but everyone imagined that was just because he wanted something to complain about and not something to take personally.

Eanwulf escaped the house when he married two years before Eadburg married. Wulfrun was the daughter of Wulfheard, ealdorman of Hampshire. Eanwulf was twenty-four. Wulfrun was seventeen, and they joked about having a child and naming it Wulfwulf. They moved to Wedmore where they built a fine house on a very large farm and were happy. Their farm, like all the property around Somerton, was worked by some Saxon, but mostly British tenants, serfs in all but name, even as it had been worked since Roman times.

In some ways, things changed drastically when great-great-grandfather, King Cynewulf overran the southern end of Somerset, but in some ways things stayed the same. The big farms, the many islands, and the noble properties came under new Saxon ownership, though a few British families who joined the Saxons in the fight against their West Welsh cousins were allowed to keep their land. Some places, like Glastonbury and Muchelney were given to the church and the new bishop in Sherborne, but in all of the Somer Country, the British peasants continued to live and work the land as they had for generations, so much stayed the same.

Garric, one of Cynewulf’s sons who would never be king, spent his life driving the West Welsh from the hillforts around Exmoor at the east end of the fens and marshes that made up Somerset. He strengthened the border with Devon and established Carhampton, a watch town on the coast fortified to protect against West Welsh raids coming over the hills. The next town down the coast, Countisbury, remained firmly in West Welsh hands at that time. This was in the days when Beorhtric was king, back in the days when sons did not follow their fathers to the throne. Living a life on the front lines and in battle was not the way to live a long life, but Garric had a son, Edgar who took up the cause when his father died, and his son, Elgar’s father Eanric followed after him.