Chapter Seventeen War is Upon Us
Chapter Seventeen
War is Upon Us
“War is upon us.”
Ecgfrith’s words fell like the blow of a heavy war axe, causing all upon the high seat to cease their evening meal. A tense silence settled.
Hea, who sat halfway down the table, put down the piece of bread she had just dipped in boar stew, her gaze shifting to the king.
She had wondered why the king had bid her to join him for supper.
She did not usually visit the Great Tower at this time of day.
She had been at her work table, mashing herbs into a paste with a pestle and mortar—to make a healing tincture—when Ecgfrith had sent a slave to fetch her.
Hea had come quickly, bringing her seeing drum with her—for Ecgfrith did not like to be kept waiting these days.
The lead-up to war had made him irascible and sharp-tongued.
This eve, his long face was stern. Irmenburgh sat beside him, eyes downcast, while beside her, Oswald lowered his cup. The priest’s gaze was wary.
Ecgfrith met Hea’s gaze across the table. “It comes sooner than expected … sooner than you foresaw.”
Hea tensed. This was the first time he had ever openly criticized her. It probably would have been best not to answer him, but Hea’s pride could not let his criticism go unanswered. “My visions do not give exact predictions, sire.”
His expression hardened, making it clear her answer did not please him. Another brittle silence settled before Oswald eventually broke it. “What has happened, milord?”
Ecgfrith turned to the priest, his expression grim. “Bridei mac Beli has begun raiding deep into Northumbrian territory.”
Hea’s belly clenched at this news. He was right, she had not foreseen this.
She had thought that the campaign was still some time off …
high summer at the earliest. For the first time ever, she doubted her skills.
Her mother had been so confident in her own abilities as a seer, but Hea sometimes felt as if she wielded her gift blindly.
“When will you leave for the north, milord?” Irmenburgh asked, her gaze flicking up to meet his.
“We march north in two days,” he replied, “and we will hit the Picts with the full force of my fyrd.” His attention then returned to the priest. “My army needs a man of God at their side—a man who can allay their fears and light the fire of righteousness in their bellies.”
Oswald went ghostly white at this news. He glanced across at the queen, but she was staring down at her trencher, avoiding his gaze. “Is that really necessary, milord,” the priest asked, his voice faltering. “I would only get in the way.”
Ecgfrith’s mouth thinned. “You will be vital to keeping morale high—those blue-painted savages strike fear into the hearts of many men. You must remind them that we have Christ on our side.”
Oswald swallowed, his throat bobbing, before he nodded.
Hea cleared her throat. “Lord Ecgfrith. I wish to join your campaign and travel north at your side.”
A stunned hush settled over the table. Rinan, who had been listening to the conversation thus far, snorted into his cup of mead, while Oswald stared at her as if she had lost her wits.
Although she had little love for the priest, Hea agreed with him. The last thing she wanted was to ride to war—but if she remained here, then the future she had glimpsed would surely come to pass. She had to find a way to change it … if she did not, Bridei—and all his men—would die.
Ecgfrith watched her steadily, his face bemused. “Why would you wish that, Hea?”
“This battle is crucial for Northumbria,” she replied. “Over the past few months, my guidance has been crucial to you, sire. I wish to continue my work. Not only that, but my healing skills will come in useful during the campaign.”
“She’ll only get in the way, milord, Rinan growled from farther down the table. “Her presence will unsettle and distract the men.”
Ecgfrith ignored his thegn. Instead, he watched Hea for a few moments more before a smile stretched across his face. “Your loyalty to your king pleases me,” he murmured, picking up his cup and raising it to her in a toast. “Yes, Hea—you may ride north with us.”
What have I done?
Hea walked from the Great Tower in a daze. Outside, the spring evening—which had felt balmy with the promise of summer earlier—now felt chill. Shivering, Hea rubbed her bare arms and wished she had brought a woolen shawl with her.
Deep in thought, she navigated the network of narrow lanes back to her hovel, her mind whirling.
What makes you think you can change anything?
She had never seen a battle and had no wish to.
She knew the king would not expect her to fight; instead, she would watch the battle from afar and then join the king once victory was assured.
Even so, the thought of seeing death and carnage up close made her feel ill.
She would have preferred to remain here in Bebbanburg, with her flowers, herbs, and remedies.
Yet she had thrown herself into this situation.
Hea looked around her—taking in the low wooden dwellings with their thatch and sod roofs, the shadow of the outer palisade against an indigo sky.
This was her home, and she could not bear to see it threatened.
The folk here lived in peace. She had heard tales of wars in the years gone by, of all the women widowed, of all the children left fatherless.
There had been times in the past when Bebbanburg had lost many of its menfolk to war.
Despite that Ecgfrith’s trust in her appeared to be weakening, she had to keep trying to turn him away from violence.
Arriving home, she found Fritha waiting for her outside. Concerned, Hea quickened her pace down the narrow lane and approached her. “What is it?”
Fritha smiled. “Nothing to look so worried about, lass. Hengist has bellyache again—and needs something to soothe it.”
Relieved, Hea exhaled. “I’ll make him up something now—come in.”
She led the way inside the warm, smoky space, lit only by the glowing embers of the hearth. Deftly, she lit the cressets around the one-room dwelling, which cast a lambent light over her humble home, before she made her way over to her work table.
Hea worked quickly and confidently. This mixture was one she made for Fritha’s husband often. It consisted of dandelion root, St. John's wort, lemon balm, calendula, and fennel.
“Tell Hengist he needs to stay away from rich food,” Hea advised Fritha as she worked. “His belly will thank him for it.”
“Aye, but his greed is stronger than his good sense,” Fritha sighed.
Hea crushed the herbs together with a pestle and mortar and added a little water before pouring the contents into a clay bottle. Inserting a stopper, she then passed it to Fritha. “Don’t forget, he needs to take it before each meal.”
Fritha nodded, smiling gratefully. Her gaze settled on Hea’s face before it narrowed slightly. “Is something amiss?”
Hea stifled a sigh; she could never hide anything from Fritha. “The king’s army marches north in two days,” she said after a few moments, “and I’m going with them.”
Fritha’s eyes went huge at this news, and she clutched at her chest, muttering an oath. “Has the king commanded you?”
Hea shook her head. “I asked to join him.”
Fritha looked aghast. “Why ever would you do that?”
Hea’s mouth twisted. She wanted to tell Fritha the full truth—that she had to do something to prevent Bridei’s death—yet she held back from doing so.
Hea trusted her friend but knew she would not agree with her decision.
“The king has come to depend on my guidance of late,” she replied, avoiding Fritha’s eye.
“My herbal remedies will also be of use to the army. I want to do what I can to help.”
Fritha’s brow furrowed. “Ecgfrith’s men can advise him, and there are other healers they can bring north. It’s too dangerous for you, Hea.”
Hea shrugged. “I shall be in the rearguard, with the supply wagons and servants. Worry not.”
Fritha looked unconvinced, and so Hea placed an arm around her shoulders. “Stop fretting. I’ll be careful.”
Once Fritha had gone, Hea poured herself a cup of wine and sat down next to the hearth.
Fritha’s cheerful presence had distracted her for a short while, but now that her friend had gone home, Hea was alone with her thoughts once more.
She took a large gulp of wine, sighing as it warmed the hollowness of her belly. This whole situation boded ill, she knew it in her bones.
Hea took another gulp of wine, willing it to be stronger so it would obliterate the anxiety that now curled like smoke within her. Hearing of Bridei’s death many days afterward was one thing, but listening to the roar of battle and knowing he would fall was another.
She had to do something to change the future. Bridei was supposed to be her enemy, but she could not bear to see him die.
Tears spilled over, the first she had wept for Bridei since the day of his departure months earlier.
She had cried a lake of tears that day, wept till she felt hollowed out.
After that, she had forced herself to shove her grief into the recesses of her mind and get on with living. But her fortitude was a fragile thing.
It did not matter what lies she told herself, how outraged she felt at his presumption and arrogance—the fact remained that when Bridei rode away from Bebbanburg, he had taken a piece of her heart with him.
Hea hiccoughed, not bothering to wipe away the tears that now streamed down her cheeks. She wished she had not glimpsed a vision of the future. There were some things you were better off not knowing.