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Copyright Oggbashan June 2016
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
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I had never expected to be King. One of my uncle's sons should have inherited the throne but they were too young when Egbert died in battle. Aged 23, I had been in command of the right wing when a sudden sea raiders' charge cut their way through our centre. Egbert died with sword aloft surrounded by his companions. By the time I had swung my men around behind the enemy, all the King's companions and most of their attackers were already dead.
The raiders' leader had been among those slain. Some say he died at Egbert's hand but that is the sort of myth that grows around any dead leader. The rest of the enemy band retreated in good order to their ships and set sail. I led the saddened but victorious war band back to our fort.
We had to replace Egbert. His sons had a better claim but were still children. I had thought one of his brothers would seek the throne but they stood aside and nominated me. I was elected by the Witan, our council of elders, and consecrated by the secret rites of the Goddess.
That was three years ago. I have been feeling my way as a King. So much is expected of me and I can do so little. I have pushed my authority and my people's patience to the limit in those three years. I seem never to have a moment to myself, dealing with all the problems I have created by introducing change. The members of the Witan are older men and they don't like change. My younger King's companions just think of fighting and defence, not about crops or the skills needed to make things. It can be lonely being a King.
I have continued Egbert's work on our fort and in my first year I insisted that a tenth of each good year's corn harvest must be stored there. Now I am praised for my foresight because so far this year the rain hasn't come. At the time there were many muttered curses.
The other changes I have made were even more unpopular at first but have been gradually accepted. The King's companions, his chosen warriors, did nothing but sit around in the Royal Hall drinking when they weren't training with their weapons. Most of the boys and young men wanted to be a King's companion. They did nothing but train to fight or were servants at the Hall keeping the companions supplied with food and drink. The boys learned more about drinking than fighting. I reduced the number of companions and made those that were retained into weapon instructors holding classes three days a week. All the former companions were assigned to our farmers and artisans to learn a second trade. I set up classes for the young men and boys so that they too could work as well as fight. I expected the farmers and artisans to be minimally competent as fighters.
Young women were already going to the Goddess' temple a couple of days a week for education. I was firmly warned against interference with that. I added training for girls in other trades such as weaving, preparation of skins, pottery and other useful things. I changed the male servants at the Royal Hall to handmaidens. Although called handmaidens I didn't insist that they remained single women. A couple were already married. The result was more efficient service, better food, and part of the Hall was separated off to make space for looms. The preparation of skins and pottery were in separate buildings.
The results of those changes were having an effect. We were beginning to trade with neighbouring kingdoms because we were making more than we could use. Our metalworkers were not as good as others, but our weaving, carpentry and pottery were gaining a market.
Our fort is all that makes our realm safe. Once it was Roman, abandoned by them a couple of hundred years ago when they finally left England. My grandfather had started its restoration and Egbert had continued the work. We were not really restoring it. We don't have the skills any more. We have patched it as best we can but our work shows as crude compared to the original.
Grandfather had cleared the outside ditches, cut down trees within a hundred paces of the fort, restored the great walls to their original height and paved the walkway. He had started collecting materials to repair the great granaries. Egbert had re-roofed the granaries with the old Roman tiles. Some of the other roofless buildings have been thatched because there weren't enough unbroken tiles. He had blocked the North and South Gates with crude masonry and reduced the width of the West and East Gates so that a single cart could enter or leave.
We were fortunate that the water supply had still been working into the fort. Once we had found the source and repaired the dam the flow is impressive. Now the dam is shrouded in thickly planted trees and bushes. The water runs underground from the dam into the fort. An enemy would have to look very hard to find the dam, and even if they did, the water inside the fort runs through several large cisterns before emerging into a fountain and pool. The cisterns are so large that they can supply everyone inside the fort for six months even if the water supply were to be cut off outside.
There are stone lined trenches around every building. Rainwater runs off the roof into the trench and then all the trenches lead to a masonry lined pool for watering the horses and cattle. All we had done was repair the cracks in the pool's walls and now we have two sources of water.
Water is our realm's blessing and curse. Our fort has enough. Our land is often too dry for the crops. The real curse is the sea that laps the edge of our fort and provides ways for the raiders from the sea to strike deep into our countryside with little warning. I had lost my mother to one raid. She had been gathering nuts in the forest with my baby sister strapped to her back when the raiders found her. One raider had cut her down with a sword to stop her from raising the alarm. That sword stroke had cut my sister in half before slicing through my mother. Even the raiders' leader had been shocked by that. The man responsible was later declared a wolfs head, a man unworthy to be trusted, and abandoned in England.
The fort is our ultimate refuge, the King's palace, the communal granaries, the workshops for the artisans, the storehouse for anyone's valuables, and the home for the five priestesses of the Goddess. They have taken over the former underground Mithraeum and the temple above it. We could survive a siege but since the Romans left no enemies have the ability to besiege anywhere. The raiders come but stay no longer than a couple of days before moving on to easier places to raid.
This year our crops are again in danger from lack of rain. Last year's harvest was only moderate because the spring rains came late. The grain stored in the fort's granaries might be all that stands between us and starvation next winter. If rain doesn't come within the next ten days we will be facing real trouble. Even with all our trade goods we could not buy enough food for the whole kingdom. The grain stored in the fort would prevent real starvation but we would be very hungry.
We have another problem. An attack of the sweating sickness has laid many of our people low. Several older people have died recently and our babies are at risk.
What can I do? I have little experience as a King. I can ask for advice from the priestesses of the Goddess. I had already asked the priestesses to pray for a good crop this year, before a sighting of a small raiders' fleet had sent me and most of our depleted war band on a fruitless march along our sea shores waiting for them to land. As before, the fort was manned with the older men and those recovering from injuries. It would take more enemies than we had seen to storm the fort even when it was lightly garrisoned. We had returned two days ago and there had been no rain.
I sent one of my handmaidens to ask that a priestess come to me. I could go to them but unless during some of the seasonal rites, the presence of a man in their precincts causes them much labour in re-consecrating their temple. The only time that isn't necessary is when they execute a criminal or traitor as a sacrifice to the Goddess. I don't know how they do that in the temple, but a bound man is delivered to them, and a shrouded corpse is returned for burial. I am pleased that I have not had to order an execution so far during my reign. Enemies captured in battle are either given a clean death by sword, or sold as slaves.
My handmaiden returned saying that a priestess would be with me within the hour. That was a real surprise. Normally they ask for at least a day to consult the Goddess. Was such a prompt response a good omen or a bad one? I waited impatiently. I had expected to wait a day. Now I was too eager when the visit was coming soon. I had ordered everyone to leave the Hall. I needed to see the priestess alone.
I was even more surprised when the priestess arrived. Helena is the oldest and chief priestess. She had been a childhood friend of my mother. She limped as she walked through the doorway. She rarely left the temple precincts. Yet she had come to me. She must have a significant message. I came down from the raised dais in the Royal Hall to greet her. I dropped to my knee and kissed her outstretched hand. I remained kneeling before her.
"Alfred, thank you for your greeting," Helena said. "Egbert was polite to me but never bent the knee. Why do you? You are the King."
"I may be King, Helena, but I am too aware of my limitations. I need your help. Greeting you with respect could be seen as an indication of my desperation. It isn't. You are a wise woman and more importantly you are my mother's friend. You need my reverence for both."
Helena's hand lightly brushed my head.
"Stand up, Alfred. In public you should not kneel to me. In private? I thank you for your courtesy. But you might not like my message."
I stood up. Helena and I perched on stools beside one of our few tables.
"What is it that I might not like?"
"If we are to have a good harvest we need to invoke the Goddess with the Great Rite, Alfred."
"The Great Rite? I know you have several rites for addressing the Goddess and asking for favours but I have never heard of the Great Rite. Why not?"
"It hasn't been performed in your lifetime, Alfred, and possibly not in your father's. It involves you as the King. You act for the people."
