The Flame Bearer

‘Twelve, father.’

‘See?’ he looked at me, ‘ready for marriage.’ He reached down and scratched a sleeping dog between the ears. ‘And you, lord?’

‘I’m already married.’

Olla grinned. ‘Been a while since you drank my ale. So what brings you here?’

‘I was hoping you’d tell me.’

He nodded. ‘Hornecastre.’

‘Hornecastre,’ I confirmed. ‘I don’t know the place.’

‘Nothing much there,’ he said, ‘except an old fort.’

‘Roman?’ I guessed.

‘What else? The West Saxons rule up to the Gewasc now,’ he sounded gloomy, ‘and for some reason they’ve sent men further north to Hornecastre. They planted themselves in the old fort and as far as I know they’re still there.’

‘How many?’

‘Enough. Maybe three hundred? Four?’ That sounded like a formidable war-band, but even four hundred men would have a hard time assaulting Lindcolne’s stone walls.

‘I was told we were at war,’ I said bitterly. ‘Four hundred men sitting in a fort might be a nuisance, but it’s hardly the end of Northumbria.’

‘I doubt they’re there to pick daisies,’ Olla said. ‘They’re West Saxons and they’re on our land. King Sigtryggr can’t just leave them there.’

‘True.’ I poured myself more ale. ‘Do you know who leads them?’

‘Brunulf.’

‘Never heard of him.’

‘He’s a West Saxon,’ Olla said. He got his news from folk who drank in his tavern, many of them sailors whose ships traded up and down the coast, but he knew of Brunulf because of a Danish family who had been ejected from their steading just north of the old fort and who had sheltered in the Duck for a night on their way north to lodge with relatives. ‘He didn’t kill any of them, lord.’

‘Brunulf didn’t?’

‘They said he was courteous! But the whole village had to leave. Of course they lost their livestock.’

‘And their homes.’

‘And their homes, lord, but not one of them was so much as scratched! Not a child taken as a slave, not a woman raped, nothing.’

‘Gentle invaders,’ I said.

‘So your son-in-law,’ Olla went on, ‘took over four hundred men south, but I hear he wants to be gentle too. He’d rather talk the bastards out of Hornecastre than start a war.’

‘So he’s become sensible?’

‘Your daughter is, lord. She’s the one who insists we don’t prod the wasps’ nest.’

‘And here’s your daughter,’ I said, as Hanna brought a tray laden with bowls and jugs.

‘Put it there, darling,’ Olla said, tapping the table top.

‘So how much did Haruld offer you for your brother?’ I asked her.

‘Three shillings, lord.’ She was bright-eyed, brown-haired, with an infectiously cheeky grin.

‘Why did you want to sell him?’

‘Because he’s a turd, lord.’

I laughed. ‘You should have taken the money then. Three shillings is a good price for a turd.’

‘Father wouldn’t let me.’ She pouted, then pretended to have a bright idea. ‘Maybe my brother could serve you, lord?’ She made a ghastly grimace. ‘Then he’d die in a battle?’

‘Go away, you horrible thing,’ her father said.

‘Hanna!’ I called her back. ‘Your father says you’re ready to be married.’

‘Another year, maybe,’ Olla put in quickly.

‘You want to marry this one?’ I asked, pointing to my son.

‘No, lord!’

‘Why not?’

‘He looks like you, lord,’ she said, grinned, and vanished.

I laughed, but my son looked offended. ‘I do not look like you,’ he said.

‘You do,’ Olla said.

‘God help me then.’

And god help Northumbria, I thought. Brunulf? I knew nothing of him, but assumed he was competent enough to be given command of several hundred men, but why had he been sent to Hornecastre? Was King Edward trying to provoke a war? His sister Æthelflaed might have made peace with Sigtryggr, but Wessex had not signed the treaty, and the eagerness of some West Saxons to invade Northumbria was no secret. But sending a few hundred men a small distance into Northumbria, ejecting the nearby Danes without slaughter, and then settling into an old fort did not sound like a savage invasion. Brunulf and his men, I decided, were in Hornecastre as a provocation, designed to make us attack them and so start a war we would lose. ‘Sigtryggr wants me to join him,’ I told Olla.

‘If he can’t talk them out of the fort then he’s hoping you’ll scare them out,’ he said flatteringly.

I tasted the fish stew and discovered I was ravenous. ‘So why is the price of ships going up?’ I asked.

‘You won’t believe this, lord. It’s the archbishop.’

‘Hrothweard?’

Olla shrugged. ‘He says it’s time the monks went back to Lindisfarena.’