Sample of Among the Great

Chapter 1: Lost!

That November day in AD 877 had been an unusually clear one for southern Wessex. Edith, the fourteen-year-old daughter of Edhelm the Bold, sat astride her horse on the brink of a hill, looking out over the forest-covered land that lay spread out beneath her. The afternoon sun cast a golden veil over everything, making the late-autumn leaves of the trees glow like garnets and rubies.

Edith took a deep breath of the crisp air and gazed towards the horizon where the hills met the sky in a misty haze. She turned to the manservant who sat astride a mule beside her. “Winchester lies beyond those hills, does it not, Orvyn?”

“Aye, my lady.”

She knew that it was so, and he knew that she knew it, but this was her way of beginning their favourite conversation.

“Aye,” Orvyn said again, stroking his greying beard. “I remember well that day, eighteen winters ago, when the Danes came from the sea and attacked the city. I did not know your father then, but I heard many tales of his bravery after the Danes were driven out of Wessex. I shall never forget, my lady, how proud I was when your father asked me to join his household after King Aethelberht bestowed these lands upon him.”

Edith smiled. Orvyn had been telling this tale for as long as she could remember, and yet she never grew tired of it.

“I remember the first time I met your father. This man has the blood of heroes in his veins, I thought to myself, and so he has! Ah, my lady, ‘tis a grand thing to be from so noble a line.”

A gentle breeze brushed their faces, whispering tales of bygone battles and valiant deeds.

Edith’s heart swelled with pride as she thought of the glorious tales she had so often heard of the courage and heroism of her ancestors. She thought of her own father who was known throughout the kingdom for his devotion to the king and his prowess in feats of arms. But glory came at a cost.

A shadow fell across her heart as she thought back to the day, six years earlier, when her father had returned from the battle of Ashdown gravely wounded. She had been only eight years old, and the fear and dread of that moment was forever seared on her memory. Against all odds, her father had survived his injuries, but he would never use his right arm again to bear a weapon.

Edith sighed. “Orvyn, do you think Edwin will have to go into battle someday?”

“It seems likely, my lady. He wishes to follow in his father’s footsteps, doesn’t he?”

“I think so,” She looked down and began to braid her horse’s coarse grey mane. Although she did not normally talk confidentially with the servants, Orvyn, who was a few years older than her father and had been with the family since before she was born, had become almost like an uncle to her. “Orvyn,” she said, slowly, “do you think Edwin is suited for a warrior’s life?”

“What makes you ask that, my lady?”

“I heard Swayn and Rodor talking in the stable yesterday. They think Edwin will never be as strong or as skilled as Papa.”

“Well, they have their opinions.”

“But what do you think, Orvyn. Swayn and Rodor don’t have the experience in warfare that you have.”

Orvyn shifted in his saddle. “Your brother is young yet.”

Edith sighed inwardly. At sixteen, Edwin was considered a man. But the thought of him confronting a Danish warrior made her shudder. Only the day before, she had heard her father speaking to him about his indecisive movements and slow reflexes in fencing.

She realised that Orvyn was still talking. “Besides, my lady, now that King Alfred has made peace with King Guthrum, it may be a long while before there will be any more fighting.”

“But,” Edith said, “this is not the first treaty King Alfred has made with the Danes.”

“Aye, but surely Guthrum will keep it this time.”

Just then, Edith caught a flash among the trees below them. “Look Orvyn, someone is in the woods down there. I’m sure I just saw a glint of steel.”

Orvyn squinted in the direction that she pointed. “Ah yes, I see it. Perhaps it is your brother’s hunting party.”

“Perhaps, but there seems to be only one person. Besides, Edwin should be on his way home by now.”

“That is true.” He shrugged. “It must be someone from the village.”

“Yes. Well, Orvyn, I think it’s time we headed for home. Grandmother still worries if I am out for too long.”

“Aye, my lady.”

Turning their horses, they cantered down the hill.

As Edith and Orvyn rode along the worn track towards home, the red berries of the tangled hawthorne shrubs that hedged the road on either side glowed in the afternoon sun. The shrubs gave way to a grassy hilltop where the sheep and horses belonging to Edith’s father grazed.

At the summit of the hill stood the residence of Edhelm[1] and his family. It was defended from the road by a high wooden paling. As Edith and Orvyn rode through the open gate into a courtyard, they were greeted by the aroma of roasting pork that wafted from one of the many buildings that formed a semicircle around the courtyard. This scent mingled with the earthy smell of horses and the sharp smell of smoke.

The courtyard was quiet, for all the servants were indoors, but as Edith and Orvyn drew up their horses, a tousle-haired stable hand of about thirteen hurried out to meet them.

He greeted them with his cheerful grin and awkward bow. “I trust you had a good ride, my lady,” he said, holding the horse as Edith swung herself down.

“Yes, thank you Swayn. Has Edwin returned?”

“Not yet, my lady.”

At that moment, her father stepped out of the main building, or Hall, as it was called. Edhelm the Bold moved with an easy, confident stride. His long cloak, fastened at the throat with an intricate bronze brooch, flowed from his broad shoulders in luxurious folds. The cloak hid, to some extent, his misshapen right arm which was supported in a linen sling.

Beside him limped a man whom Edith recognised as the blacksmith from Aller, a village that lay about a mile northeast of their home. The blacksmith’s left leg was twisted and shorter than his right, forcing him to take two steps for every one of Edhelm’s strides. Looking up at his lord as he listened attentively to his instructions, the blacksmith’s peaceful blue eyes contrasted with those of his lord which were clouded with habitual care.

Edhelm’s battle-hardened features softened into a smile when he saw Edith. “Ah, Edith. Look at this.” He held out a large, beautifully crafted iron latch. “For your grandmother’s new chest.”

The blacksmith bowed as Edith approached and took the latch. “Oh,” she exclaimed, turning it over in her hand, “it’s perfect!”

Her father turned to the blacksmith. “Now, Ceolmund, all we need is the carpenter.”

“As it happens, my lord, I met Wulfstan on my way here” Ceolmund said.

“I thought that Wulfstan was on the hunt with Edwin,” Edhelm said. “Edith, did Edwin not say that Wulfstan was going with him?”

“Yes, Papa, I think he was.”

Ceolmund frowned. “Wulfstan had just returned from the hunt, my lord. He said that your son had gone on ahead of the other men. I assumed that he would be here.”

“Have the other men returned?” Edhelm asked.

“I believe so, my lord.”

A tall woman with long, silver hair emerged from the Hall. She had the same high forehead, piercing eyes, and stately carriage as Edhelm. Her step as she approached them was quick, poised, and self-assured. “Has Edwin not yet returned?” she asked. “It will be dusk soon.”

Edhelm frowned. “I think I should ride out to look for him. I’ll come back with you to Aller, Ceolmund, and speak to Wulfstan and find out where they lost sight of him. It may be that he has fallen from his horse, although that seems unlikely. Orvyn, come with us and bring Swayn and Rodor as well.”

“Papa,” Edith said, “may I come too?”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “Very well, Edith.”

It wasn’t long before Swayn had the horses ready, and Edhelm, Ceolmund, Edith, and the servants rode down to the village of Aller.

After the battle at Winchester, Edith’s father had been raised to the position of thegn, or knight, and had been appointed to serve under the ealdorman of Somersetshire. He had been given ten hides[2] of land, which added to the prestige he already possessed as the descendant of the renowned Edstan the Valiant. Edhelm’s lands included the towns of Aller and Langport, but rather than choosing to live in one of these towns, Edhelm had built his home about a mile southeast of Aller.

As they rode, Edith tried to imagine what could have happened to Edwin. She thought it was unlikely that any real harm had come to him, for there was little danger in the woods at this time of day. She could see his smile and hear him say, “Don’t worry about me, Edith. I can look after myself.”

However, when they reached the carpenter’s shop and Edith saw the concern on Wulfstan’s face, she began to feel uneasy.

 “We were certain that he had reached home long before us, my lord.” Wulfstan said. “He galloped on ahead and we lost sight of him. We were all headed in this direction, so we assumed that he went home.”

Wulfstan offered to show them where he had last seen Edwin, and Edhelm agreed.

It took them less than half an hour to reach the spot, but to Edith it seemed like an age.

At last, Wulfstan drew up his horse and said, “This is where we lost sight of him. He must have left the track.”

“We will find him,” Edhelm said. “I think we should spread out. Orvyn, you go to the west. Wulfstan, you take the east. Rodor, try making a wide circle to the north. Ceolmund and Edith, stay with me. We shall continue along this way.”

The men did as they were commanded, and Edith followed her father as he left the track and rode in among the trees. Edhelm had become an expert in managing his horse with only his left hand holding the reins.

As she rode beside him, Edith smiled as she realised how well his fair hair, dark cloak, and chestnut-coloured horse blended with the surrounding golds, browns, and oranges of the wood. Just like one of Grandmother’s tapestries, she thought. Even the ruby ring that he wore on his left middle finger matched the tones of the leaves. It had been so long since she had been riding with him that for a moment, she was almost glad Edwin had gone missing. Then she thought again of the danger he might have fallen into and wished with all her heart that he was there with them.

“Are those hoofprints?” Ceolmund said after a while. He slid down from his saddle, landing awkwardly on his good leg, and bent down to look at them more closely. “They are indeed, my lord, and they go in this direction.”

“Can you tell if they are the same as the shoe prints of Edwin’s horse?”

“I’m afraid not, my lord. The imprints are not deep enough.”

“Well, let us see where they lead.”

But after a few yards, the tracks disappeared, for here the ground was carpeted with thick red and brown leaves. Edhelm jumped down from his horse and examined the ground and surrounding underbrush closely. “Ah!” he said, after a moment, and held up a strand of horsehair that had been caught in a bramble. “It looks like he went along this way.”

They moved on, very slowly now. The air was heavy with the earthy scent of decaying leaves and damp soil.

Presently, they found themselves at the edge of a stream. “Well, someone was certainly here,” Ceolmund said, pointing to the opposite bank where the earth was churned up and the grass was trampled.

Edhelm dismounted and waded across the stream. “Someone killed a deer here. They skinned it on the spot.”

At that moment, there was the snap of a twig, and Edith was certain she heard footfalls. “Edwin?” She turned towards the sound and was just in time to catch a glimpse of a shadow moving between the trees. She blinked, and it was gone. The dappled light made it impossible to say whether it was man or beast. Or just her imagination.

“Papa,” she said as he rejoined them, “are there any wolves about at this time of day?”

He smiled. “No, my daughter.”

“I think I saw something in the shadows, there.”

He squinted in that direction. “There’s nothing there now. Perhaps it was a deer.” He turned to Ceolmund. “I think it will be worth continuing this way. Let’s hope we’re not following the trail of a village hunter, though.”

They rode across the stream, the horses’ hooves splashing through the sparkling water. As they mounted the opposite bank, Edith thought she heard a footfall behind them. She glanced quickly over her shoulder but there was nothing.

The trees parted, and they found themselves at the edge of a glade. Edith caught her breath as she saw how shafts of light from the sinking sun pooled on the ground in a patch of radiant gold.

But as they rode into the clearing, Edith suddenly felt as though she were being watched. “Papa…” she began, but her father’s eyes were fixed on the far side of the clearing.

As she followed his gaze, the shadows in the trees materialised, and out stepped a tall, powerfully built figure. The warm sunlight that shone down upon him did nothing to soften the icy coldness of the eyes he fixed on them. Deep malice was in every line of his hard features. He strode towards Edhelm with the easy self-assurance of a prince. He stopped before them, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Horik!” Edhelm’s voice was mingled anger and astonishment. “How dare you set foot on these lands?”

Sunlight gleamed in the stranger’s dark hair and beard as he threw back his head and laughed. His laugh made Edith shudder for there was no warmth or happiness in it. “I see you have not changed, Edhelm,” he said. “But I have business that I have come to discuss with you.”

“I do not speak with traitors.” Edith saw that her father’s knuckles were white as he clasped the reins to turn away.

Horik smirked. “You will discuss this with me.”

There was a crackle of leaves from behind. Edith turned to see a man standing at the edge of the trees with a drawn bow. The arrow was pointing at her father.

Another man stepped out from the trees behind Horik and stood ready, sword drawn.

“Well?” Horik fixed his eyes on the thegn.

“What do you have to say?” Edhelm asked.

The stranger cast a meaningful glance at Ceolmund and Edith.

“Ceolmund, Edith,” Edhelm said, “go and wait for me by that elm.” He pointed to a tree that was a few yards away. Reluctantly, Ceolmund obeyed, and Edith followed him.

At a sign from Horik, the man with the bow lowered it and joined the other man who stood behind Horik.

Edhelm dismounted and drew near to Horik.

From where they stood, Edith and Ceolmund could not hear what they said, but the tension as they spoke was palpable.

“Do you know who he is?” whispered Edith.

Ceolmund pressed his lips together and did not seem to have heard her. His eyes were fixed on the two men, his usually relaxed face tense and grim.

Edith watched the stranger’s face. The more she watched it, the more tightly cold fingers of fear wrapped themselves around her heart. While Edhelm seemed to become more and more angry, Horik showed no sign of temper or lack of control. His malice was utterly composed. That was what frightened her most of all.

Suddenly, her father’s voice came clearly across the grass. “Be gone, Horik!” He turned on his heel and made for his horse.

Swift and silent as a wolf hunting on a midwinter night, the stranger drew his sword and sprang.

“Papa!” Edith shrieked.

Edhelm turned just in time to dodge the warrior’s first thrust. He drew his own sword – with his left arm.

Horik shouted. His two men rushed forward, swords drawn.

Edith’s heart pounded wildly. Papa can’t fight with his left arm. He can’t!

There was another shout, and Orvyn burst through the trees and ran forward to help his master.

Ceolmund was about to dismount when a great cry from Edhelm reached them. “Fly Ceolmund! Get Edith to safety!”

“Come, my lady!” Ceolmund leaned over, seized the bridle of Edith’s horse, and turned its head.

She had no strength to resist as her horse turned and followed Ceolmund’s mule. But she looked back over her shoulder. “Papa has fallen!”

“Don’t look back, my lady! Ride forward with all your speed if you would honour your father’s wishes!”

***

Meanwhile, in the clearing, the stranger stood over Edhelm, the point of his sword against Edhelm’s chest. The sun had sunk lower. Deep shadows were stretching across the trampled ground.

The stranger’s eyes gleamed like cold steel as he looked down at the thegn. “Do you still refuse my terms?”

Edhelm struggled to raise himself onto his elbow and looked up into the face of his enemy. “I will not betray our people!”

“Then you will pay for your choice! You have been getting in my way for too many years. But I will be compensated. Doubly compensated.” He leaned forward and spoke low into Edhelm’s ear.

The face of Edhelm the Bold turned deathly white. “No, Horik! He wouldn’t!”

 An icy smile distorted Horik’s face. “At least you won’t be here to see him do it.” He made a sudden, deadly thrust with his sword. Edhelm fell back with a gasp and lay motionless. The murderer stooped, slid the ruby ring from the dead man’s finger, and placed it upon his own.

“Let us go,” he said to his companions who stood by the body of Orvyn who, despite his courage, had been no match for them. “That’s one less thegn for King Guthrum to worry about.”

***

As they galloped through the woods, Ceolmund and Edith were met by Wulfstan and Swayn, who, like Orvyn, had heard shouting and were anxious to know what was happening.

“Stay here with my lady,” Ceolmund said, without answering their questions. He turned and cantered back in the direction of the clearing.

“What has happened, my lady?” Swayn asked.

“Strangers. They attacked father.” She could say no more.

The sun was sinking rapidly and the golds and reds of the forest were quickly becoming greys and blacks.

It was twilight when Ceolmund returned. Alone. Edith knew what had happened without him saying a word. A cold blankness settled over her heart.

“Rodor is in the glade keeping watch.” Ceolmund said. “Come, we must return to the Hall and get torches and stretchers. And let us pray that Edwin has not fallen into the hands of this man. Our people are going to need him.”

[1] The reason why Edith and her father and brother’s names all begin with “Ed” is because in Anglo-Saxon culture, families typically gave their children names with the same prefix as their father. All of King Alfred’s brothers’ names began with “Aethel.” Their father’s name was Aethelwulf. Alfred, the youngest, was the odd one out!

[2] 10 hides is about 1300 acres.