The Northumbrian Saga

Part 7

The first of Aelle’s men came in the morning. They looked as tired and bloody as Osbert’s men, the only distinction being the flag they waved, the usurper’s standard. Three of the strangers stood in the archway of the gates, looking about them with keen interest, examining the buildings and the few occupants who were adventurous enough to come out of doors. The fourth man, barely a few years older than Aethelwin, was talking to Eadred. The exchange was brief and to the point; there was no need for flowery introductions or pleasantries. The men wanted to know whose side Eadred was on.

The whole village wanted to know whose side he was on. Should they flee before the army arrived or greet them with open arms? Aethelwin watched them gloomily from the doorway of the great hall. She didn’t want to flee, nor did she want to welcome them. She wanted to see them writhe at the end of a dagger, the only end fit for traitors.

Eadred gave the boy the news he had wanted and watched them leave down the dusty road towards the next village. Ignoring his young wife’s pleading eyes, he disappeared between the houses, seeking his men to tell them of their changed allegiances.

Aelle the bastard, the would-be usurper of his half brother’s throne, was marching north with his followers. They trickled through the Vale of York like a slow moving flood, sticking to the old Roman roads. By week’s end, they were amassed on the south bank of the River Tees. King Osbert’s brother now had control of southern Northumbria.

Shepworth changed irrevocably overnight. Not only were old friends and family missing, but new faces, strangers from the south as well as from the fighting along the Tees, came along day by day. The fyrd was restocked with the refugees of civil war, now loyal to a new aeldorman and possibly a new king. New hands tilled the soils and re-thatched the houses. New neighbours were welcomed, stepfathers and mothers were acquired, and life bubbled on.

Ever conscious of doing God’s work, Gytha welcomed every single person with open arms and promises of salvation through prayer. Mass was held every day and throughout the night. She was overcome by religious zeal, confident that the Lord would protect and save all. She took it upon herself to spread the good word, but the good word did not feed the starving.

By the day of Christ’s mass, the summer harvest was almost gone. Gytha had been adamant that every person should be given sustenance when asked, no matter what. Eadred was adamant that the village was to be put on strict rations. As the new Lord of Shepworth, Eadred won out. The granaries and stores were put under guard, and only the most meagre of rations were given daily. Within the first week of the New Year, ten new graves had to be dug in the cemetery.

That was when everything started falling apart. A group of men, newly settled in Shepworth with their families, broke into the granary. Driven by desperation they had managed to overpower the guards whilst others dug deep into the storage pits. It had not taken long for the rest of the village to realise what was happening, and afraid of missing out on much needed food, they had swarmed in to steal as much as possible. It happened so quickly that by the time Eadred arrived with reinforcements, the pits were just about emptied, and the initiators of the raid gone.

It was obvious now to those poor souls that to stay was certain death. The village was almost totally abandoned. Even some of those who could trace their ancestors back several generations within the town were forced to leave.

By the spring, the village was a collection of half empty huts, occupied by ghosts.

Misfortune after misfortune seemed to haunt Shepworth, and Aethelwin knew that she was the one being blamed. She had heard the gossip, seen the glances. Her mother-in-law refused to speak with her. They kept out of each other’s way, Aethelwin all alone in her house, Gytha in the church, praying for God’s forgiveness for bringing such a girl into her family. Since Aethelwin’s arrival Gytha had lost her husband, many of her people, their allegiance to King Osbert, and the prosperity of the town. She felt that God was punishing Shepworth, and she was adamant it was because of her son’s new wife.