Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [226]
“Bring all the provisions you can find,” Aelfwald had told him. “You know what we need.”
The results, when Aelfwald led the king down to the banks where Tostig was unloading, brought a smile to Alfred’s face.
There were ten vats of honey, two hundred cheeses, forty sacks of flour, flagons of ale, both dark and clear, two hundred pounds weight of fodder and the carcasses of twenty sheep, which Tostig had managed to preserve in the cold.
With a proud smile the thane explained: “This is the feorm I owe you for my land.”
At this Alfred roared with laughter, then clapped the loyal thane on the back; but a moment later, it seemed to Aelfwald that he was close to tears. For the feorm, the tax in kind owed by a thane to the king or his superior lord, was a reminder of how far Wessex was from its normal state of order.
“Soon Thane Aelfwald,” the king said quietly, “I hope we shall return to a time when the king collects his feorm as before.” Then turning to Tostig the slave he announced: “You are a freedman from this hour: I shall pay your lord Aelfwald the price of your freedom.” At which, true to his character, the surly slave bowed his head respectfully, but did not smile.
But what gave the thane more pleasure even than the king’s praise was the cargo Tostig brought in the last boat: two small children whom they had assumed must be dead. When he saw these, tears came to the thane’s eyes too and he shouted:
“Tell Port we have livestock for him.”
Later that day the two children told the sheep farmer and the thane how they had lived alone for weeks at the sheep farm, and then at the empty farmstead in the valley; and how during the massacre they had been saved by a grey-bearded Viking about whom they could tell the listeners nothing except that he was called Bar-ni-kel.
The battle of Edington which took place in the spring of 878, though it involved only modest numbers of men, ranks with those other small but vital conflicts – Hastings, the Armada, the Battle of Britain – as one of the turning points in the island’s history.
As the winter drew to an end, Aelfwald was aware of a sense of anticipation growing within the community at Athelney. The king was active now: scouts were being sent out in all directions to monitor the Vikings’ changing dispositions; others were sent to rally support.
It was in late March that the spirits of all at the camp were raised by a piece of unexpected news. A detachment that the king had sent into the rich lands of the south west had succeeded in collecting a sizeable force together there, and this new group had met and defeated a Viking raiding party which had crossed, in no less than twenty-three ships, from Wales. Over a thousand of the raiders were reported dead: it was the first hint of success for many months.
The thane’s sons were eager to attack in force.
“We should raid Guthrum himself at Chippenham,” Aelfstan urged. “Teach him a lesson.”
But King Alfred waited. For too long the war with the Vikings had followed this pattern of inconclusive battles followed by a payment of danegeld and a temporary withdrawal.
“This time,” he told Aelfwald, “we must force them out for good. Nothing less will do.” And each day, messengers came with news of more thanes willing to meet him when he marched.
Easter came and the whole camp gathered in a nearby field where a tall wooden cross had been set up. The nuns of Wilton, and the few monks whom the king had in his entourage celebrated a mass and it was after this that Aelfwald saw King Alfred advance to the cross and turn to address them.
“The time has nearly come,” he cried. “And if it is God’s will, we’ll drive the Vikings out of Wessex for ever. If not,” he added grimly, “we’ll die in the attempt.”
As the thane waited eagerly for the day of departure, one problem