Honour is All Read online

  ‘But why, Cerdic?’ I asked. ‘You don’t fast when we’re at Becklund.’

  ‘Well, Mistress Sigrid, it feels all different here, this being a holy place and everything.’

  ‘But I,’ said Vida, ‘fast for Lent at home as well. I have so much to thank Our Lord for. I feel it’s a small thing to do for Him. You know, Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter, how I was when I lived in Leicester and all my family had been killed. The Lord led me to you and you have given me a home. Besides it would be very wrong to have been to confession and received absolution and then to break my promise.’ I wondered if Vida had told in her confession of how she’d had to sell her body to survive. How would the Father Confessor have received this information? I just hoped he’d made allowances for her orphaned state after all her male relatives had been killed. She’d really had little choice at the time.

  Gunnhild and her ladies attended Mass, prayed and went to confession. I wondered what Gunnhild would confess to: shapeshifting, sorcery? Somehow that seemed unlikely. I was intrigued by Gunnhild. She’d not seemed that devout when we were in Jorvik. I figured she was either genuinely worried for Eirik and wanted to appeal to the Christian God for protection or she wanted to impress Ansgar. I didn’t see why she should bother with a scribe so, reluctantly, I accepted her religious fervour as genuine.

  I was forbidden to engage in weapons practice but at least I didn’t have to do any of the embroidery Gunnhild had managed to find room for in her luggage. She and her ladies found favour with both the Abbot and Ansgar by repairing altar cloths and vestments. Ansgar often visited to ensure our comfort. One day he arrived weighed down by a huge bundle.

  ‘So,’ said Gunnhild, her voice dripping with honey, ‘this is the drape you mentioned.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ansgar. He shook out a filthy looking piece of material, releasing a cloud of dust and causing a concerted fit of coughing among the ladies. ‘I’m afraid it needs cleaning and repairing but it is a most ancient and valuable piece of furnishing. Consecrated, of course to the holy Minster.’

  ‘Yes, it aaahchooo!’ Gunnhild sneezed. When she’d recovered she smiled and nodded. ‘Dear Brother Ansgar, I should be honoured if you would entrust me with restoring it to a state more in keeping with its sacred surroundings. Our first task will be to brush it and wash it.’ The look she directed at me made my toes curl inside my boots. Then I thought there might be a way to avoid this unpleasant task and I went for a walk around the village.

  The original settlement around the Minster had been established by the workmen who built the church and the monastery. Skilled craftsmen, stonemasons, bricklayers, glaziers had lived there with their families for the years it took to complete the huge cathedral. Some of the workmen had left when the job was done but some stayed and were joined by others attracted by the opportunities of selling crafts and produce to the monastery and to cater for the travellers who came to worship in the splendid Minster. Among these villagers it was easy to find a couple of women willing to clean the drape and to keep quiet about it. I also found a farmer whose yard, against fair payment, he let us use for weapons practice. I was quite pleased with myself. Of course I knew that, sooner or later, Gunnhild would find out but until then I did my best to re-gain strength and stamina after my long period of inactivity at Jorvik. I enjoyed the swordplay and the friendly banter and I relished being in the fresh air. That’s what I was doing when I should have been with Gunnhild, ready to protect her.

  Even without walls and ditches, we thought ourselves safe. We should have been safe because many years earlier King Aethelstan had granted a one-mile area of sanctuary to the Minster. I had heard tales of Aedred’s soldiers roaming the countryside killing cattle and burning crops. We’d seen the smoke from settlements on fire, displaced people had crowded into the village, seeking shelter, begging for the monastery to take them in. And still we thought that within the Minster’s area of sanctuary we were safe.

  ‘Soldiers!’ Olvir burst into the yard. I used Orm’s momentary distraction to whack him on the head. He stumbled and went down on one knee.

  ‘Ouch! Sigrid that wasn’t fair,’ he said straightening his padded cap. I laughed.

  ‘Any fight deserves nothing less than your full attention, Orm the Unhurt.’

  ‘Listen, Sigrid!’ Olvir shook me by the shoulder. ‘Aedred’s men. They’re here. Gunnhild –’ At that moment the Minster bells rang out, deep, resonant portents of dread. Odin’s eye, what had I done! My task was to protect the Queen and I had left her without a thought. What a complacent fool I had been.

  We set off towards the monastery jostling with terrified villagers running the other way to escape from the soldiers. I choked on thick, acrid smoke, I smelled the blood and guts of men killed trying to defend their homes, I heard the heart-wrenching screams of women being raped and the spine-chilling cheers of soldiers triumphant, thinking the slaughter of defenceless families a victory. I looked at my hird. We were too late and too few. There was nothing we could do to help the villagers.

  Aedred’s men had lost any discipline they may have started out with. Each soldier seemed to follow his own desire for blood, gold or rape. The wooden monastery buildings were on fire. Thatched roofs sent sparks and flames into the thick, dark smoke that filled the sky. But the walls were still standing. A group of soldiers stood cheering in front of the blaze.

  ‘We must find Gunnhild and get her into the Minster,’ I said. ‘Head for the hospital.’ I drew Dragonclaw and let her sing her deadly song to Aedred’s men. They had their backs to us. Some were in armour and I aimed at the gap between helmets and chainmail, or the back of their legs. Their screams alerted their comrades to our presence. To my left I felt rather than saw Unn slamming her small shield in the face of a soldier a head taller than she. The spike in the centre of the shield boss pierced his eye and with a high-pitched scream he fell back, blood gushing through his fingers. Unn’s battle cry broke our silence but now that didn’t matter, the enemy were only too aware of our progress. To my right Ylva wielded her sword with measured precision, a smile on her lips but no chanting – only an almost polite ‘for Odin,’ each time she hit home. Behind me Anlaf, Orm and Cerdic howled like wolves. I hoped Olvir was with them.

  We broke through the clump of soldiers and ran past the cluster of buildings that made up the monastery towards the hospital. We were almost there when the roof collapsed sending up fresh plumes of sparks. There was no escape from the burning inferno.

  ‘They’re dead,’ I whispered. ‘They’re dead and it’s my fault.’ With a frozen heart I realised that my honour was broken; I had failed in my duty. I was brought back by Ylva.

  ‘Sigrid, they’re coming. We must run.’ I looked behind me. The soldiers advanced towards us. But where could we escape to? We were caught between the blistering heat and our enemies.

  A spear swished past my head and landed in the flames. Cerdic swore when an arrow pierced his padded jerkin.

  ‘Here, over here,’ shouted Olvir and with his tunic over his head he ran past me towards the corner of the Minster. We all followed. The wall of fire roared as we stormed through it. Ylva’s hair caught fire. Unn yelped when she stumbled. Orm pulled her back on her feet. The iron handle under the shield boss scalded my hand and I threw the shield away. Cursing and pleading with Thor to help us we ran through the furnace. And it did have an end. Singed, smarting from burns, coughing and rubbing our stinging eyes, we rounded a corner of the Minster.

  ‘To the ground, roll on the ground.’ Olvir, who seemed unaffected by the blaze, removed Anlaf’s smouldering shoes. Cerdic rubbed Ylva’s hair to stop it burning.

  ‘There was no need to take your name quite so seriously, Flamehair,’ he said. Ylva looked tear-eyed but managed a grim smile.

  I looked back. Burning buildings formed a barrier between us and the soldiers. Nobody would walk across that unless they had to and the soldiers didn’t. They only had to wait till the fire died down enough for them to get through unhurt.


  ‘I think we can get inside,’ said Olvir and led the way behind the Minster. We followed close. There was a small door. It was locked. We banged on it, we kicked it but it remained closed. From inside I could hear screams, chants and loud voices that sounded like they called for calm. Even if anyone could hear us, how could we persuade the petrified people there to let us in?

  ‘Gunnhild must be there,’ I said. ‘She’ll be safe.’

  ‘Probably safer than us,’ said Anlaf. ‘We should look for somewhere to hide.’

  ‘No, we must get inside.’

  ‘Break down the door,’ said Anlaf giving it a tentative kick. ‘Too solid.’

  ‘So,’ I said, ‘a window then.’ We looked up. There was only one window on this side of the Minster and it sat high up on the wall.

  ‘Yeees?’ said Anlaf. I managed a grin.

  ‘Look, Unn is strong but not very heavy; if she stands on your shoulders I can climb on your backs and reach it.’

  ‘Can you break it? And what happens inside? How do you get down?’

  ‘Odin will look after his own.’

  ‘For such a scrawny thing, you’re quite heavy,’ muttered Anlaf as Unn clambered on to his back. ‘Sigrid, maybe we should make this part of weapons practice. Ouch, stop, that tickles!’

  ‘Watch your mouth then.’ Unn leaned on the wall and straightened up. Cerdic and Olvir giggled nervously as they steadied Anlaf. Orm lifted me and, clutching on to Unn’s legs, I heaved myself up. I put my feet alongside hers on Anlaf’s broad shoulders, used her hips as rungs on a ladder and first one knee at a time then one foot after the other I rose to stand on her shoulders.

  The window was harder to break than I thought. There were so many small window-panes all held together with lead. I used the handle of my dagger to break the glass. That was easy enough but the led was tough. I kept smashing the glass and sending shards into the Minster. Through the gaps I could now see people kneeling on the floor and hear their fervent prayers. There was no point shouting, they’d never hear me. So I got my arm through the lattice work of lead and flung a piece of glass at the nearest group of people. I had to make two more attempts before I hit a bald head and a monk looked up to see where it came from. I waved and shouted. He didn’t see me. I tried again. The glass landed on the floor between the monk and his neighbour. They both looked up and this time they saw me. They screamed and panic spread like a wave through the crowd of people.

  I felt close to tears but pressed my face into one of the gaps in the lead. I swept my hair through another gap, thinking it would reassure people if they saw I was a woman, and I continued to wave. Eventually a slight figure in a plain habit approached and looked up.

  ‘Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter! What are you doing there? How did –? Oh, well.’ He pointed in the direction of the door. Sobbing with relief I clambered down from my human ladder.

  Inside the Minster we found Gunnhild, her children and all but two of her ladies who had perished in the fire. With a stab to my heart I realised that Vida too was missing. I knew then that I had three lives on my conscience. It could have been worse but that was no consolation. I was responsible and I had failed.

  Gunnhild was all the more frightening because she was completely calm.

  ‘Where were you?’ In my shame I couldn’t meet her eyes.

  ‘I was arranging for the drapes to be cleaned, as you asked me to.’ She knew, of course, that I was lying. And I knew she would punish me in her own time, in her own way. I also knew that I was in the wrong and would have to make up for that to her, to myself and to the memory of my father who had taught me that duty and honour come before everything else.

  At first we thought the smell of smoke was from the candles or from the incense burners. Then the windows were smashed and burning arrows came through the gaps. People tried to stamp out isolated fires but were hindered by the panic-stricken masses. Then a heavy thumping noise and the cry went up:

  ‘The doors, they’re ramming the doors.’ I looked at Ansgar.

  ‘We must leave. Where can we hide?’ His smile was serene as he shook his head.

  ‘No, no, the Almighty Lord will…’ He stopped, startled by a loud crash as the doors began to splinter. ‘Follow me.’ He headed for the small side door we had entered through.

  ‘Take the children,’ I said to my hird. Anlaf, Orm and Cerdic carried the three boys, Unn and Ylva led Ragnhild between them. They were all very brave, only the one-year old cried in the arms of his wet-nurse. Gunnhild followed with her ladies and I brought up the rear to make sure all got away.

  It was still day but the sun was obscured by thick smoke rising from the monastery buildings. We made our way through the kitchen garden towards a narrow channel that carried water to the kitchens. Beyond was a meadow and then woodland. As I waited for them all to cross the channel I turned to see smoke and flames escaping though the broken windows of the Minster. I thought of all the drapes, carvings and pictures that were now aflame. The pictures had been very ugly but it still seemed a pity. At least the people were safe for now. Pilgrims and travellers followed us across the meadow and joined us in the shelter of the trees. But I couldn’t see many monks.

  ‘Where are the rest of your Brothers?’ I asked Ansgar.

  ‘They’ll be with the Abbott in the crypt,’ he said, ‘protecting the holy relics. They’ll be safe there. But I don’t understand, Sigrid, I just don’t understand what has happened. These were Aedred’s men, weren’t they? They are Christians. How can they attack and destroy a Minster? Does Aedred know what his soldiers are doing? Surely, he cannot have condoned this outrage.’ I smiled. I had my own ideas about why Aedred’s soldiers had attacked Ripon.

  ‘Who does the Minster belong to?’

  ‘St Peter, you know that.’

  ‘No, I mean, who collects the dues from the land and from the pilgrims?’

  ‘Oh, well, Wulfstan of course.’ He paused. Then he shook his head. ‘I see. You think Aedred has done this to punish Wulfstan. Oh dear, this is not good. I have thought for a long time that Wulfstan is too involved in politics. Aedred is his King after all. He has sworn allegiance to Aedred, he and all those Jarls he keeps conspiring with. Time and time again they pick up this hopeless struggle for independence.’

  ‘You think it’s hopeless?’

  ‘Oh yes, I’ve seen them, Edward, Aethelstan, Edmund and now Aedred. The Saxon Kings will never give up. But for Aedred to put his immortal soul in danger and attack a holy Minster, Sigrid, I fear for the country when kings start behaving like that.’

  ‘Aedred wasn’t there. At least I haven’t seen his banner.’

  ‘He’s still responsible.’ Ansgar wagged a finger.

  ‘Oh yes,’ I said, ‘but who’s going to hold him to account?’

  ‘Our Lord, on Judgement Day.’ I thought that wasn’t much help to us now but I didn’t say anything.

  Unn used her seaxe to trim Ylva’s singed hair. Of the long tresses remained no more than five inches the colour of autumn leaves. I picked up a knot of burnt, brittle hairs.

  ‘We’ll all miss this,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, it’s a shame,’ she said, ‘I liked my hair but I like being alive even better. It’s my own fault. I should have taken time to cover it.’

  ‘It will grow back.’ She nodded then she pointed to Cerdic.

  ‘Sigrid, I think he’s injured. Look at his arm.’

  Cerdic’s padded jerkin was torn. I made him remove it. His tunic was caked with blood around the shoulder.

  ‘Just a scrape,’ he said. ‘I took the arrow out it wasn’t very deep.’

  ‘I’ll see to it,’ said Olvir. He went back to the monastery garden to gather healing herbs but of course we had nothing to use for bandages. Although it irked me I had to appeal to Gunnhild.

  She was just getting down on her knees, arranging her children and ladies around her to join Brother Ansgar in prayers.

  ‘It’s bad enough that you don’t join in our devo
tion,’ she said, ‘do you have to interrupt as well?’

  ‘One of my men, Cerdic, is injured. We need bandages. I was hoping you might help.’ She didn’t look impressed.

  ‘Which of your ruffians is this Cerdic? Does he really warrant the care of a queen?’

  ‘No, he doesn’t need your personal care, Olvir has the knowledge to heal his wounds but we need bandages. Strips torn from an under-dress would serve.’ She raised her eyebrows. I hastened to add: ‘Obviously not yours but maybe one of your ladies?’ Before she could reply, a small voice rose from behind us:

  ‘Mother, Cerdic is the man with no nose. He carried me even though his arm was hurting. He’s very kind, I like him.’ Little Gudred, second youngest of Gunnhild’s brood, looked at her with the mixture of fear and respect that all her children seemed to afford her. Ansgar, wondering what the delay was, came across. In front of him Gunnhild couldn’t refuse help to one of her rescuers.

  ‘Of course we shall all help,’ said Ansgar, ‘Oh if only I had parchment and a quill I would write a prayer to put between the bandages. But instead we shall begin our prayers with a plea to the Lord Almighty that he may heal the poor man. Let’s kneel together.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Gunnhild, ‘but not until I have cleaned and bound his wound.’ She smiled a tight little smile and for the first and probably only time I quite warmed to her.

  In the distance we saw soldiers gathered around camp fires. It sounded like they had found the Abbott’s wine cellar. I reflected that Eirik had miscalculated Aedred’s tactics and while his family were running for their lives he was probably safe in Jorvik. At dusk I took Unn and Orm to look for our horses. The stables were a smouldering pile of scorched beams. We saw no cadavers in the ruins so somebody must have had the sense to open the doors and let the horses run.

  ‘Shall we ever find them?’ said Orm. ‘Those poor animals will be far away from here by now.’