The Winchester Codex by Frances Spurrier

Author:Frances Spurrier
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
Published: 2023-12-22T00:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

ATHELNEY

A KING IN A SHEPHERD’S HUT

We had thought they would not attack until the spring. But the Norsemen were not bothered by snow. They came from the north, where ice was plentiful.

That very Christmastide, Guthrum sprung his surprise attack in the heart of winter with a force of thousands.

Hundreds, thousands of warriors ransacked the place while we were abed.

Many of the royal guard were slaughtered still trying to pull on their clothes, never mind their armour.

We fought. Those of us that could, and held the attack off for two days, but it was hopeless.

I myself had to rescue the king, pulling him away from being asphyxiated by a Viking the size of a wardrobe pressing on his throat until Odo succeeded in blinding and disarming the wretch with the fire of lamentation.

Retreat was all that was left to us. Along with a few loyal household members we managed to escape under cover of darkness. We galloped for miles barely aware of where we were heading before being forced to slow down to save the horses from exhaustion. We wandered disconsolately from place to place homeless and rootless until eventually a sympathetic woodsman called Rafe led us to Athelney.

Legend has it that the place known as Athelney on the Somerset marshes is concealed from its enemies, that a saint called Neot had sent a black mist to shroud the place to protect the king. The truth was more prosaic. Athelney could only be reached by punt – and by those who knew where to find it. It was a wild, inhospitable place, a secret haunt of exiles, of the nameless and placeless. It was a place no right-minded Dane would think to look for the king of Wessex. It was that which saved us.

I had once told Alfred that kingship was coming whether he wanted it or not. For years, he had fought alongside his father and his brothers to repel roving bands of Danes. Now, the invaders were no longer roving bands; they were encamped here, a great army planning to make our land their land.

Alfred was king of an empty marshland and a ragged band of exiles that included me. We were thirty years of age.

Just to make matters worse, Alfred had fallen ill. He looked white-faced and haggard.

I knew no healing arts, nor could I find anyone that would dare to attend the king in the ragged troops or camp followers we had so far amassed from Somerset or Hampshire. Where was Meghan of Caerphilly? Witch or no witch, right now we needed her and I knew I had to find her and bring her to this place.

Rafe, our faithful woodsman and self-styled leader and the only one who knew the location of our secret marsh, rode proudly ahead in the line and turned to face us. ‘Follow me, sire, your palace awaits.’ He urged his horse forward, into the murky black-misted swamp. Wondering what in all the days of the blessed saints we were doing, Alfred and I followed.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.