Enemies of Mercia (The Eagle of Mercia Chronicles), page 1
ENEMIES OF MERCIA
BOOK 6 THE EAGLE OF MERCIA CHRONICLES
MJ PORTER
This one is for Elizabeth R Andersen, Kelly Evans and Eilis Quinn – my writer friends on this mad, crazy journey. Thank you.
CONTENTS
Map
Cast of Characters
The Story So Far
The Mercian Register
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Historical Notes
Acknowledgements
More From MJ Porter
About the Author
Also by MJ Porter
Warrior Chronicles
About Boldwood Books
Designed by Flintlock Covers
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Icel, orphaned youth living in Tamworth, his mother was Ceolburh
Brute, Icel’s horse
Cenfrith, Icel’s uncle, brother of Ceolburh and one of the Mercian king’s warriors, who dies in Son of Mercia
Edwin, Icel’s childhood friend, in exile with Lord Coenwulf
Wine, Cenfrith’s horse, now Icel’s alongside Brute
Wynflæd, an old herbwoman at the Mercian king’s court at Tamworth
The Kings of Mercia
Coenwulf, king of Mercia r.796–821 (died)
His son, Coenhelm, murdered before his father’s death
Coelwulf, king of Mercia r.821–825 (deposed), father of Lord Coenwulf
Beornwulf, king of Mercia r.825–826 (killed)
Lady Cynehild, King Beornwulf’s wife before marrying Lord Coenwulf, now dead
Wiglaf, king of Mercia r.827–829 (deposed) r.830–
Queen Cynethryth, Wiglaf’s wife
Wigmund, Wiglaf’s son, married to Lady Ælflæd, sister of Lord Coenwulf
Wigstan, Wigmund and Lady Ælflæd’s young son
Ecgberht, king of Wessex r.802 onwards, r.829 in Mercia
The Ealdormen/Bishops of Mercia
Ælfstan, one of King Wiglaf’s supporters, an ally to Icel who is a member of his war band
Ælflæd, Lord Coenwulf’s sister, married to Lord Wigmund, the king’s son
Ælfred, ally of Lord Wigmund
Beornoth, one of King Wiglaf’s ealdormen
Hunberht, an ally of Lord Wigmund
Muca, one of King Wiglaf’s ealdormen
Sigered, a long-standing ealdorman who’s survived the troubled years of the 820s
Sigegar, Sigered’s grandson
Tidwulf, an ally of King Wiglaf
Wicga, ally of Lord Wigmund
Æthelweald, bishop of Lichfield
Ceolbeorht, bishop of Londonia
Ceolnoth, archbishop of Canterbury
Heahbeorht, bishop of Worcester
Eadwulf, bishop of Hereford
Hunbeohrt, bishop of Leicester
Rulers of Other Kingdoms
Athelstan, king of the East Angles
Ecgberht, king of Wessex
Æthelwulf, Ecgberht’s son, king of Kent, under his father
Ealdorman Hereberht, ealdorman of Kent
Ealdorman Ælfstan’s Warriors
Cenred, Mercian warrior
Go∂eman, Mercian warrior
Kyre, Mercian warrior
Landwine, Mercian warrior
Maneca, Mercian warrior
Ordlaf, Mercian warrior
Oswy, Mercian warrior, once an ally of the queen
Uor, Mercian warrior
Waldhere, Mercian warrior
Wulfgar, Mercian warrior
Wulfheard, Mercian warrior, Ealdorman Ælfstan’s oath-sworn man, brother of Wulfnoth
Bada, Wulfheard’s horse
Bicwide, Icel’s horse
Flêotan, another horse
Those Living in Kingsholm
Coenwulf and Coelwulf, the sons of Lord Coenwulf and Lady Cynehild
Eadburg, living in Kingsholm, protector of the children, her mother was their wet nurse
Lady Cynewise, sister of Lord Coenwulf
Eadbald, Mercian warrior
Deremann, Eadweard, Forthgar, Mergeat, Wulfred, oath-sworn warriors of Lord Wigmund, now all dead
In Hereford
Hywel, living in the forest
Æthelbald, now dead
The Wolf Lady, forest dweller
In Northumbria
Wulfnoth of Eamont, now dead, brother of Wulfheard
Those Living in Tamworth
Cuthred, training to be a healer with Wynflæd
Eahric, commander of the king’s household warriors
Gaya, previously a slave woman with a talent for healing, now freed
Theodore, previously a slave man with a talent for healing, now freed
Wynflæd, a healer
Brother Sampson/Heca, a member of Bishop Æthelweald’s community
Traders
Benedict, trader
Eardwulf, trader in herbs and spices
Giric, fur trader
Morgan, trader
Durcytel, a Norseman, trader in stone
Heanflæd, horse trader
Wulfthryth, Heanflæd’s assistant
Those Living in Winchester
Freawine, goat herder
Heardlulf, Wessex warrior, brother of Heardred
Heardred, Wessex warrior, brother of Heardlulf
Brihthild, sister of Brihtwulf
Brihtwulf, brother of Brihthild
Places Mentioned
Canterbury, home of the archbishop in the kingdom of Kent, was Mercian but claimed by the king of Wessex in the 820s. Built on the Roman ruins of Durovernum
Eamont, in the north-west, the site of a famous meeting in 927 (if you look at maps of Saxon England, you’ll find precious few names on the north-west side of the country)
Hereford, close to the Welsh borders, in Mercia
Island of Sheppey, part of Kent, where the Viking raiders held Lord Coenwulf captive
Kingdom of Wessex, the area south of the River Thames, including Kent at this time, but not Dumnonia (Cornwall and Devon)
Kingsholm, associated with the ruling family of King Coelwulf, close to Gloucester, home to the exiled Lord Coenwulf. Lady Ælflæd, his sister, is now living there.
Lichfield, close to Tamworth and one of the holy sites in Mercia
Londonia, combining the ruins of Roman Londinium and Saxon Lundenwic
Tamworth, the capital of the Mercian kingdom
Winchester, the capital of the Wessex kingdom, built on Roman ruins
THE STORY SO FAR
Lord Coenwulf has been banished from Mercia for seven years for his believed treason in approaching the king of Wessex, Ecgberht. While King Wiglaf hoped to be forgiving, with the connivance of the queen of Mercia, Cynethryth, and her son, Wigmund, the king was left with no option but to exile him. Lord Coenwulf’s exact whereabouts are unknown, although it’s believed he’s sought refuge at the court of the West Frankish king. He was forced to leave his young sons behind. His sister, Lady Ælflæd, married to the Mercian king’s son, has taken responsibility for their care.
In the meantime, Icel has wounded himself protecting the children of Lord Coenwulf, and the now dead Lady Cynehild, from their abductors. He’s held true to the deathbed oath Cynehild extracted from him while informing him of the truth of his parentage. This knowledge has left Icel conflicted and unsure of his place within Mercia. Does he wish to pursue his claim to the kingship? Does he hope no one else ever discovers the truth? The similarity of the position he and Lord Coenwulf’s children find themselves in is apparent to him.
Still, despite rescuing them, and the death of all those who held the children in the north, the true power behind the movement to kill the children has yet to be discovered. Icel fears the involvement of the queen, and her son, married to the children’s aunt.
Icel is far from fully recovered from the beating he experienced while hunting down the children, which left him for dead. Eadburg, the daughter of the children’s wet nurse, yet lives, but has been badly wounded. Her mother died attempting to escape their captors.
Wulfnoth, the man behind the attack is no more, and the men of Lord Wigmund’s war band, who were also implicated, are dead. But Icel is yet to understand what happened between Wulfnoth and his brother, Wulfheard, a man who has long looked after Icel and made him the warrior he is today.
Recovering, and aware Wulfheard and Ealdorman Ælfstan are as invested as he is in discovering the truth, and protecting Mercia’s future, Icel is by no means assured that anyone else even cares.
THE MERCIAN REGISTER
AD834
In this year, Lord Coenwulf of the Hwicce was banished for his treason.
1
AD835
The woodlands close to Hereford
‘You shouldn’t have come.’ Her words reach me, and I wince over the snap of the twig beneath my foot. I’ve almost forgotten when I could move with the litheness of my youth. The wounds I took trying to fight off Eadweard and his allies have been slow to heal and have scarred me. I know that I’m not the man I used to be. Some of those injuries are more than skin deep. With twenty, nearly twenty-one winters to my name, I’m not the warrior I thought I was.
The Wolf Lady emerges in the gloom before me, a wraith-like creature coated in the grey of the coming night. I’m not the only one to rear backwards. Brute lets forth a startled neigh, which doesn’t surprise me.
‘I wanted to thank you,’ I begin, but she’s already turned her back on me, making her way through the gloom. Brute and I hasten to follow her. I allow him to walk unaided. It’s me who really needs the comfort of his smooth back to keep me upright. ‘For saving Eadburg’s life after she was attacked by the bastards who stole the children,’ I continue, raising my voice for fear she won’t hear me. The winter has passed, giving me time for my wounds gained from fighting to heal. I was resolved to rescuing the children from what their abductors planned to do, fulfilling my oath to Lady Cynehild. But it’s not yet Eastermona∂. There’s a bitterness in the air tonight.
‘That she lived was thanks enough.’ Her words are suddenly much closer, yet she’s far from my side, way out ahead, where her footsteps over the rustling forest floor reach my ears.
I feel my forehead furrow, and there’s a soft breath at my side only for eyes to shimmer before me. I startle again, almost swallowing my tongue in confusion. I was sure she’d walked ahead, but clearly not.
‘Young Icel,’ she exhales. ‘You didn’t need to find me. In fact,’ and now she’s the one looking puzzled in the dim glow from the moon and stars overhead, her long hair showing in a glossy sweep down her back, ‘you shouldn’t have been able to.’ These words are much softer, almost as though she’s talking to herself.
‘I brought you gifts,’ I offer. ‘From Kingsholm. Lady Ælflæd begged me to thank you in person. She was one of those who agreed I should make this journey alone and as soon as I was able.’
‘Did she now?’ This reaches me from far away. I turn once more, but she’s no longer where she was.
‘How do you do that?’ I demand, feeling uneasy at these strange occurrences.
‘Do what?’ And she’s back. Now we walk side by side through a more familiar landscape, for all I’ve only been here once before. From close by, I can hear the shuffling of hens and the soft snores of something else. Animal or human, I’m not sure.
‘There’s nothing to fear,’ she breathes from beside me. Her hand runs over Brute’s back, and I’m disconcerted when it rests on the mostly patched-up injury inflicted by my enemies. She surely can’t see it in the gloom. ‘Not the smoothest repair,’ she whispers to Brute. ‘But you won’t mind now, will you?’
I feel my mouth open in astonishment. How does she know Brute was wounded in that exact spot above his front leg? Despite everything, has word reached her here of what befell me?
‘Come, Icel, inside. I need the heat from my hearth. It’s a cold day. Place your horse in the stables with the other animals. There are hay and oats for him. And close your mouth, Icel. Guests should always be welcome. I’m sure you know that.’
All the same, my mouth doesn’t close, not even as I make Brute comfortable and allow him to eat the offered oats and drink deeply from a bucket of water. I glance around in the murkiness. There are no other horses here, not even a donkey. How then did she have the oats and hay to hand? I don’t think the few hens and goats need those foods. The only explanation is that she did, indeed, know I was coming and had prepared.
‘We won’t be here long,’ I murmur to Brute, but he’s not listening. I appreciate the words are more to settle me than him.
I loop the saddle from his back with a wince, the sacks he carries thump to the ground with a dull thud. The reins are harder to remove, forcing me to stretch my healed belly wound. I feel tears prick my eyes at the reminder of all I’ve endured. Perhaps Wulfheard was right. I should have waited to fulfil this task. I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry to declare myself fit and to venture out alone. But I needed to do this. I needed to prove to myself that I could, and with Ealdorman Ælfstan’s warriors at Kingsholm, I’m confident that nothing will slip past their guard. The children are safe in my absence. And their aunt, who I once suspected, is as determined to keep the children safe as I am, and she encouraged me to come here. And of course, Eadburg is at Kingsholm as well. She’s already nearly died for those children. I’m sure she wouldn’t hesitate to do so again.
Perhaps I should have spent the night in Hereford and come here in the morning. Maybe then I’d feel less uneasy. I thought I had nothing to fear from the mysterious woman who healed me and Eadburg last year, but now I’m less convinced.
I leave Brute unencumbered in the building before emerging into the ever-deepening dimness of the coming night. The sacks I carry are heavy. I’m weighed down with supplies and some coins for the Wolf Lady, provided by me, Lady Ælflæd and Wynflæd. Wynflæd too knew of my intent before I did and sent her gift to Kingsholm with a baggage train from King Wiglaf for his grandson. When, I think, did I become so predictable?
I’m directed more by my nose than anything else, wobbling towards the glow of the fire, a sullen red in the night, as the smell of a cookpot encourages me onwards.
The door’s been left open, but I stop and close it as I move inside. Not that I see her. I expect to find her by the hearth, as she said, but there’s another figure there, hunched over, perhaps ancient. I startle again. I thought she was alone.
‘No need to fear, Icel. I think you’ll remember Hywel from last year.’
At the name, a head jerks upright, and shocked eyes greet mine. If she knew of my arrival, then her guest wasn’t informed.
‘Hywel’s been ill, but I’ve cared for him, and soon he’ll be well enough to leave if he chooses.’ Although the words are softly spoken, I detect an element of menace to them. Will she cure anyone? Even those who don’t deserve it. But then, Hywel might have held me captive, however he also helped me escape in a roundabout sort of way. He told me who was behind the conspiracy – well, the parts he knew about – and was much kinder to me than that bastard, eaten by the wolves, Æthelbald.
‘Good day,’ I call to him, attempting to stride with more confidence, despite the niggles from my healed leg wounds. But the sacks are too heavy. I’m forced to drop one or risk falling over.
‘Ah, my thanks, Icel,’ the Wolf Lady mutters, opening the first and dipping her head low to explore the contents.
‘These are from Lady Ælflæd of Kingsholm and Wynflæd from Tamworth, amongst others.’
‘Then they have my thanks as well.’ A soft exclamation of delight, and I see she’s poured forth one of the larger pottery jars encased in soft fleece to ensure its contents aren’t disturbed. ‘Honey,’ she exclaims, removing the lid and sniffing appreciatively. ‘From Wynflæd?’ She arches an eyebrow. How does she know this item is from Wynflæd? It could have been from Lady Ælflæd.
‘Yes, she said you need it.’
‘I do, yes.’ But she offers nothing further, although whispers of happiness greet her foray through the gifts I’ve brought for her. I stand, unsure what to do. Hywel, sensing my unease, jerks his head towards me in what I take as a gesture to join him in holding my hands towards the heat from the flames.
‘You look like you’ve had a beating,’ he offers, his words as faint as the Wolf Lady’s, almost as though this is hallowed ground, and they both fear to wake the spirits that might claim this place. I feel a cold shiver down my spine that not even the heat of the leaping flames can dispel.
‘I did, yes, no thanks to you and your friend.’ I don’t mean to voice my complaints, but they follow the twinges in my belly from hefting the too-heavy sack of supplies.
‘Yes, well, I’ve been punished enough for that,’ he mutters unhappily. I catch sight of him in a flicker of bright flame and realise his face is twisted, perhaps scarred. It’s not easy to see. I don’t know how it’s become dark so quickly, but it has. Aside from the gentle crackling from the stone circle inside which the flames leap, there are only two candles, reeking of pig fat. They’re both close to the Wolf Lady as she continues sorting through the offerings I’ve brought with me. I intended to make an elaborate game of presenting each item to her, the herbs, the exotic spices, the sharp knife that Lady Cynewise insisted on sending to her, in imitation of my intentions to get her one, but my explanations aren’t needed. I can hear the pleased murmurs with each new discovery and, after it, the names of those who sent them for her. I shake my head, perplexed by how the Wolf Lady knows such things.
