Amber Treasure, The (18 page)

“I’m afraid so, Cerdic. I’m
anxious that even if I can persuade Aethelfrith to march, it will still take us
a few days to come. What worries me is that the Prince will,” now he also
whispered, but even softer than me, “... lose his nerve. If he considers a
retreat, you must try to help Wallace persuade him to stay on. I will come,
Cerdic. I WILL COME. Do you understand? Aethelric must wait for me and keep the
army at Catraeth.”

Catraeth: there was that word
again. Where was it? Was it in Elmet? I was not sure of that. Although of
course I had seen Samlen’s five hundred men there. Was that part of the army
heading to Catraeth? Why was it so damned important? I opened my mouth to ask
my father, but just then, Lilla came across riding one horse and leading
another.

My father mounted it and glanced
down at me.

“I’m coming back, son: be
careful!”

Then, he spurred his horse and
they were away, galloping even before they left the gate and riding out into
the dark.

I yawned and went and found a place
beside Eduard. He offered me his jug of ale and I took a swig and passed it
back. The flames in the camp fire drew my gaze and I was struck at how bright
they were. Like the fire within Aelle. The old King saw something, knew
something and as a result we were marching in the morning to Catraeth.

What was Catraeth? What would we
find there? I had headed to Elmet expecting to find Mildrith, to confront a
traitor and kill Samlen, to take back the amber treasure and my uncle’s sword.
I had achieved none of that. Mildrith was gone with Samlen, who had my uncle’s
sword and the traitor was with them still. Not Aedann, as I had thought, but
Hussa: Hussa who carried some of the amber treasure as reward for the betrayal
of his country.

So, in the morning, were we
heading back to Elmet? I wondered if perhaps I would find them all there. Would
there be one huge battle to decide the future of the North? Would the Welsh or
the Angles triumph? Would my people be swept into the sea?

Would I find Mildrith, Samlen,
Hussa, the treasure and the sword at the same place ...

... at a place called Catraeth.?

Chapter Fourteen

North

The next day we
were woken half an hour before a cold grey dawn, one on which the sun was
concealed by deep banks of fog rolling down from the moors. The mist filled me
with a sense of foreboding and it seemed that I was not the only one. For, as
we gathered around the camp fires, broke our fast and organised our equipment, we
all spoke in hushed whispers, each sensing the same tension in the men about us
that made us jump in alarm when the noise of a dropped pan or a pair of shields
clattering together rang out through the gloom.

It was with a sense of relief
that we finally marched out, heading north and west back along the Roman road
towards the city of Eoforwic. Prince Aethelric would join us on the road, we
were told, but for now Harald was leading us to his city. At last, I was going
to get my wish and I would visit the city I had been desperate to go and see
throughout my childhood. As we approached and we could see the vastness of it
− far bigger than any of the places I had visited before − I could
not help but smile, which made me laugh at my childish excitement. I was
marching off to war after all − indeed I might die in the battle −
and yet, here I was getting excited over seeing a few shops and taverns! Then,
we entered the gates and I decided to just enjoy the moment.

A city of many thousands,
Eoforwic was the greatest trading hub in the North. A settlement had been here
before the Romans, but it was they who made it their northern capital and the
base for one of their legions. After they had gone, it was the focus of Welsh
resistance to my ancestors’ invasion. The great King, Coel Hen, had made it his
city. In many ways it was still Welsh, despite almost twenty years of
occupation by Deira, for the Romans had taught the Welsh about living and
trading in cities and they had not lost that entirely yet, whereas we Saxons
still preferred our villages and market towns.

The road we followed took us
along the north bank of the River Ouse and through the stone walls that
enclosed the Roman legion fortress on that side of the river. Earl Harald and
his warriors ignored the garrison buildings. So too had the Anglo-Saxon traders
who had come to make a living in the city. We Deirans, not comfortable with the
eerie, tomb-like barracks, had abandoned them to the Eboracii tribesmen to live
in; apparently they did not mind them as much as we did.

We passed the command building,
which was three stories high; its courtyard lined with stone pillars the width
of tree trunks and the height of the tallest oaks. Then we halted at the foot
of the stone bridge that crossed the Ouse. Here, Harald let us fall out and
rest while we waited for the mustering of his two companies from the city.

Wallace, who seemed to have
recovered fully from his ordeal, though his arm was still in a sling, gave us
freedom to cross the river and explore. “Just be back here in two hours and
don’t get drunk, or I’ll hang you from one of those pillars!” he threatened.

On the far side of the river was
the civilian city. That was how the Romans had built it: garrison on the one
side and city on the other. Here was row upon row and street upon street of
houses, little estates and a vast trading centre, market and workshop district.
The scale was overwhelming, but just as we had done in Samlen’s stronghold in
the old Roman fort of Calcaria, we could not miss the decay around us. There
was hardly a building where the tiles had not fallen off the roof, or where the
walls were not cracked. Indeed, there was hardly a street without a house
abandoned due to the scale of damage from the storms and winds of two hundred
winters or the destruction Aelle’s army had caused seventeen years before. Yet,
the Welsh lived on in whatever shelter they could find, whilst the Saxons built
new houses of wood in the gaps between the stone buildings or on the land
outside the walls. A sudden thought came to me that we were like children
playing in our parents’ house whilst they were away: making a bit of a mess,
but assuming that they would sort it all out in the end. But, of course, the
parents of this city would never come home.

Aedann, Cuthbert, Eduard and I
strolled through the maze, taking in the bewildering variety of stalls and
trade houses of all kinds. The smell was unbelievable − a heady mix of
urine from the tanneries, human waste tossed in the street or down open privy
pits, exotic spices traded from across the North Sea and from as far away as
the fabled cities of Byzantium and Rome, smoke rising from five hundred fires
and forges, the alluring scent of roasting pig or lamb and a thousand other
smells I could not place. Our ears were assaulted by a clamour of sounds
ranging from the cries of animals being slaughtered, the clanging of hammer on
sword, spear, nail and chain in a score of forges; children screaming and
crying in unseen alleyways and houses; the call of hawkers and salesman and the
constant rumble of human conversation in English and Welsh.

It was still, as I have said,
mainly a Welsh city − although ruled by us Deirans − and I became
aware as we walked about that we were being watched. Small groups of
dark-haired youths followed us as we walked along, or gathered on corners and
stared at us with ill-disguised loathing. They whispered to each other in the
Welsh tongue, but fell silent if we got close. Nevertheless, Aedann had heard
what they were saying.

“They have heard some rumours
that Owain’s army has left Rheged and he is to join with Samlen, but they did
not say where,” Aedann muttered to me.

Aedann might not know, but I had
a pretty shrewd idea of the name of the place.

“What do they think about that,
then?”

Aedann shrugged.

“Most of them have grown up, like
me, knowing that once our people ruled his city like most of this land and now
we are slaves, or at best second class free men. You Angles rule the city and
own the land. Now, they hear that Owain is coming to kill you and drive you
into the sea. How do you think they feel?”

I nodded, looking at the nearest
group of young men who were now laughing as they looked at us, as if we were
sheep soon to the slaughter and they knew who was wielding the knife.

“What about you, Aedann? How do
you feel about it?” I asked, with a sidelong glance at my former slave. He
looked at the youths and shrugged.

“I made my promise, Master
Cerdic; I’m serving your father.”

“But, that takes you to war
against your own people.”

He nodded. “Ironic, is it not,
that my enemy, Samlen is Welsh so to kill him I must fight with the conquerors
of my people.”

Wallace came and found me with Cuthbert
and Eduard appraising a bow on a fletcher’s stall. He waved at me and I went
over to him. Eduard and Cuthbert stayed at the stall and began haggling for the
bow, whilst Aedann wandered off towards one of the groups of Welsh lads. He
seemed to be making an effort so that they did not think he was with us and I
watched him, wondering what he was doing, until Wallace started talking.

“Ah, Cerdic, I have been meaning
to have a word. I have to say that I was impressed − more than impressed
in fact − by your conduct in Elmet. You are just a lad and to have done
what you did − taking command of my company like that ...”

“I did not intend to, my Lord ...
but after Sigmund died...”

He held up his good hand. “There was
no one else and you felt like you had to do it. Well done, anyway,” he said,
with a nod. “Yes, you did well, but be aware that others might not believe you
are up to the task ahead. If anything happens to me, do not be afraid to speak
your mind.”

I frowned at that. What did he
mean? He seemed to see my confusion.

“Cerdic, I know what your
father’s task is. The King spoke to me and said I must ensure that the army
stays at Catraeth long enough for Aethelfrith to arrive. If I can’t then you
must.”

“Me?” I was startled. “What can I
do?”

“Just do not be afraid to say
what you believe. There are some here who will try and shout you down and use
your youth against you. Ignore them ... the future of our whole people could
depend on it.”

I nodded, not sure what to say,
the sudden responsibility heavy on my shoulders. Then I wanted to ask about Catraeth,
but Wallace glanced at the height of the sun, which was passing midday, and he
gathered up Cuthbert and Eduard and led us back to where the men were collecting.
Aedann turned up a few minutes later and I was going to ask him where he had
been, but he went over to his kit, busied himself cleaning his sword and did
not talk to me.

I was expecting us to march
across the bridge and southwest towards Elmet, back down the road we had traversed
only a few days before − then onwards to the war. But after we had crossed
the river, we instead left the fortress by the North Gate and up onto Dere
Street: the road that went all the way to the Roman Wall and then on even
further. I looked back at the smoke over the city, feeling as if each step we
took northwards was taking me away from Mildrith, Samlen and my uncle’s sword.

We stopped for the night at a
small hamlet, a few miles north of the city and I went to ask Wallace what he
knew about where we were going. I found him leaving the camp and riding further
up the road.

“My Lord,” I said. He turned to
look at me.

“Ah, Cerdic, your feet got
blisters, eh?”

“Er, yes a few, my Lord, but …”

“Not now, Cerdic, I am off to
scout ahead. I will be back tomorrow.”

“But, my Lord, why are we going
this way. Elmet is that way,” I said pointing to the south. “Where are we
going?”

“We are not going to Elmet,
Cerdic. We are going north: north to Catraeth,” and with that, he galloped
away.

Suddenly, instead of the gloom of
a week before, or the excitement and desire for revenge of the last few days, I
felt nothing but fury and confusion. What in the name of Woden were we doing
marching north up this blasted road?

In a whirl of frustration, I
turned back to our camp to tell the others. Most of them just told me to calm
down and that we would be told in time where we were going. But none of them
could calm me and I stomped off to find a place to be alone and sulk.

I was still in a foul mood the
following morning when we broke camp and got back on to Dere Street. Our little
army must now have been about four hundred men strong. The companies from
Eoforwic and the Wolds led the way whilst we trailed along behind. The men in
most of these companies were five years and more older than us youngsters and
at first they ignored us or treated us as callow children, but Grettir must
have spoken to them about the raid into Elmet, as later that day they began to
talk to us and discuss the battles they had fought and to listen to our tales.

As we halted for a meal at noon,
my spirits lifted a bit when Cuthbert told a poetic version of the gallant
fight of the three young heroes, who defeated the hordes of the Welsh to rescue
the defenceless women and children. The older men chortled and teased, but they
enjoyed the tale and treated us better afterwards. As we set off again, I
walked near Cuthbert and asked him where he had learnt to tell a tale that way.

“Oh, from Lilla the bard, Cerdic.
I often dreamed of travelling as a wandering poet. You know, going from village
to village and learning the tales and stories of the folks along the way. Lilla
says there are many things a man can learn by travelling. He has visited the
palaces of kings and even gone to Elmet and Rheged.”

Cuthbert’s mention of Elmet
darkened my mood again.

“Did Lilla tell you why we would
be marching to this Catraeth place, rather than attacking Elmet?” I asked with
a sour voice, “I mean, what is so important about this town anyway?”

“I thought I taught you better
than that, Master Cerdic,” came the reproachful voice of Grettir from a few
ranks behind. “It is not for us to consider or guess why we go thither or what
we are asked to do when we are there. King Aelle is our lord and it is enough
that he has a purpose in mind.”

“What a load of tripe,” I thought
to myself and I fell into another silent sulk, until we broke off the march
that night and made camp. I decided that enough was enough. Wallace had said I
was second in command of the company. So I was going to ask someone about where
we were going, and by chance, Aethelric, Earl Harald and Earl Sabert walked
past our part of the camp and wandered over to our fire to warm their hands.

“Sire, can you tell me why we are
going to this Catraeth place and not Elmet?”

The company fell silent and all
eyes turned to me. Most were curious − all men want to know where they
are going. Grettir hissed and told me that I would be told all I needed to
know.

“Well spoken, loyal yeoman but …
but the men should know something of why we are going to this Catraeth place,
don't you think?” said Aethelric.

“My Lord,” started Grettir, “there
is no need ...”

“Quite right too! Sire,” Sabert
said, his eyebrows bristling. “I said before, he is just a youth. He needs to
keep silent and learn that princes do not need to explain what they do.”

Aethelric nodded, but then seeing
my downcast expression, seemed to change his mind again.

“Perhaps … but, there are some
advantages to being a prince and the son of the King, and since it was he who
gave me orders to command this little force, I am in the position of knowing
why we are going north.”

“Our captain has gone on ahead,
my Lord: the boy is my responsibility. I’m sure he will make a fine warrior and
leader one day, but he can be a bit outspoken,” Grettir apologised, glowering
in my direction.

“Oh, I already know master, erm …
what did you say your name was?” he turned to me, but Grettir answered.