The Burning Land

“Her husband also wants to separate Mercia from Wessex,” I said. He did not say anything to that because he knew it was true. “So who do you trust to protect you from martyrdom?” I asked. “?thelred or me?”

“God will protect me,” he said stubbornly.

“I shall only be here a few days,” I said, “and you can help me or hinder me. If you fight me, bishop, you make it more likely that the Danes will win.”

He looked across at ?thelfl?d and a tremor showed on his thin face. He was smelling sin in our apparent alliance, but he was also thinking of the vision I had given him, a vision of a mail-coated Dane thrusting a blade into his belly. “Bring the ship back,” he said grudgingly, echoing Weohstan, then abruptly turned and walked away.

The ship was the Haligast that had once been the vessel that carried Alfred up and down the Temes, but it seemed his sickness had caused him to abandon such voyages and so the small Haligast had been brought through the treacherous gap between the bridge piers and was now used as a scouting vessel. Her master was Ralla, an old friend. “She’s light-built,” he said of the Haligast, “and she’s quick.”

“Faster than Seolferwulf?” I asked. He had known my ship well.

“Nowhere close, lord,” he said, “but she runs well on the wind, and if the Danes get too close we can use shallower water.”

“When I was here,” I said in a mild voice, “the Danes would run from us.”

“Things change,” Ralla said gloomily.

“Are the pagans attacking ships?” ?thelfl?d asked.

“We haven’t seen a trading ship in two weeks,” Ralla said, “so they must be.”

?thelfl?d had insisted on coming with me. I did not want her company because I have never thought women should be exposed to unnecessary danger, but I had learned not to argue with Alfred’s daughter. She wanted to be a part of the campaign against the Danes and I could not dissuade her, and so she stood with Ralla, Finan, and me on the steering platform as Ralla’s experienced crew took the Haligast downriver.

How many times had I made this voyage? I watched the glistening mudbanks slide past and it was all so familiar as we turned the river’s extravagant bends. We went with the tide, so our thirty oarsmen needed only make small tugs on their looms to keep the ship headed downriver. Swans beat from our path, while overhead the sky was busy with birds flying south. The marshy banks slowly receded as the river widened and imperceptibly turned into a sea reach, and then we headed slightly northward to let the Haligast drift along the East Anglian shore.

Again it was all so familiar. I gazed at the drab low land that was called East Sexe. It was edged with wetlands that slowly rose to plowed fields, then, abruptly, there was the great wooded hill that I knew so well. The crown of the hill had been cleared of trees so that it was a dome of grass where the huge fort dominated the Temes. Beamfleot. ?thelfl?d had been imprisoned in that fort and she gazed at it wordlessly, though she reached for my hand and held onto it as she remembered those days when she was supposedly a hostage, but had fallen in love, only to lose the man to his brother’s sword.

Beneath the fort the ground fell steeply to a village, also called Beamfleot, that lay beside the muddy creek of Hothlege. The Hothlege separated Beamfleot from Caninga, a reed-thick island that could be flooded when the tide was high and when the wind blew hard from the east. I could see that the Hothlege was thick with boats, most of them hauled onto the beach beneath the great hill where they were protected by new forts that had been made at the creek’s eastern end. The two forts were a pair of beached and dismasted ships, one on either bank, their seaward planking built up to make high walls. I guessed a chain still ran across the Hothlege to stop enemy vessels entering the narrow channel.

“Closer,” I growled to Ralla.

“You want to run aground?”

“I want to get closer.”

I would have steered the Haligast myself except my bee-stung hand was still swollen and the skin taut. I let go of ?thelfl?d’s hand to scratch the itch. “It won’t get better if you keep scratching it,” she said, taking my hand back.

Finan had shinned up the Haligast’s mast where, with his keen eyesight, he was counting Danish ships. “How many?” I called impatiently.

“Hundreds,” he shouted back and then, a moment later, gave a proper estimate. “About two hundred!” It was impossible to make an accurate count for the masts were thick as saplings, and some boats were dismasted and hidden by other hulls.

“Mary save us,” ?thelfl?d said softly and made the sign of the cross.

“Nine thousand men?” Ralla suggested dourly.

“Not as many as that,” I said. Many of the boats belonged to the survivors of Harald’s army and those crews had been half slaughtered at Fearnhamme, yet even so I reckoned Haesten had twice as many men as we had estimated at Gleawecestre. Maybe as many as five thousand, and most of them were even now rampaging through Mercia, but enough remained at Beamfleot to form a garrison that watched us from their high wall. The sun’s reflection winked from spear-blades, but as I shaded my eyes and gazed at that formidable rampart on its steep hill it seemed to me that the fort was in disrepair. “Finan!” I shouted after a while, “are there gaps in that wall?”

He waited before answering. “They’ve built a new fort, lord! Down on the shore!”

I could not see the new fort from the Haligast’s deck, but I trusted Finan, whose eyes were better than mine. He scrambled down the mast after a few moments and explained that Haesten appeared to have abandoned the fort on the hill. “He has watchmen up there, lord, but his main force is down on the creek. There’s a big bastard of a wall there.”

“Why abandon the high ground?” ?thelfl?d asked.

“It was too far from the ships,” I said. Haesten knew that better than anyone, for he had fought here before and his men had managed to burn Sigefrid’s ships before the Norseman could bring men down the hill to stop him. Now Haesten had blocked the creek beneath the hill, guarding its seaward end with the beached ships and the landward entrance with a new and formidable fortress. Between those strongholds were his ships. It meant we could probably take the old fort without much trouble, but holding the high ground would not help us because the new stronghold was out of arrow range.

“I couldn’t see very well,” Finan said, “but it looked to me as if the new fort is on an island.”

“He’s making it difficult,” I said mildly.

“Can it be done?” ?thelfl?d asked, sounding dubious.

“It has to be done,” I said.

“We have no men!”

“Yet,” I said stubbornly.

Because my plan was to capture that stronghold. It was crammed with Haesten’s prisoners, all the women and children taken as slaves, and it was in Beamfleot’s new fort that his plunder was being stored. I suspected Haesten’s family was also there, indeed the families of every Dane ravaging Mercia were probably in that place. Their ships were there too, protected by the fort. If we could take the fort we could impoverish Haesten, capture dozens of hostages, and destroy a Danish fleet. If we could capture Beamfleot we would win a victory that would dismay the Danes and cheer every Saxon heart. The victory might not win the war, but it would weaken Haesten immeasurably and many of his followers, losing faith, would abandon him, for what kind of a leader was a man who could not protect his men’s families? ?thelred believed Mercia’s salvation was best secured by waiting for Haesten to attack Gleawecestre, but I believed we had to attack Haesten where he least expected an assault. We had to strike at his base, destroy his fleet, and take back his plunder.

“How many men do you have?” Ralla asked.

“Eighty-three at the last count.”

He laughed. “And how many do you need to capture Beamfleot?”

“Two thousand.”

“And you don’t believe in miracles?” Ralla asked.

?thelfl?d squeezed my hand. “The men will come,” she said, though she sounded far from convinced.

“Maybe,” I said. I was staring at the ships in their sheltered creek and thought, in its way, that Beamfleot was as impregnable as Bebbanburg. “And if they don’t come?” I said softly.