Oathbreaker (The King's Hounds series) Read online

  Also available in the King Cnut series

  The King’s Hounds

  The Word of a Villein (forthcoming)

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Text copyright © 2011 by Martin Jensen and Forlaget Klim

  English translation copyright © 2014 by Tara F. Chace

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Oathbreaker was first published in Danish in 2011. Translated from the Danish by Tara F. Chace. Published in English by AmazonCrossing in 2014.

  Published by AmazonCrossing, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  ISBN-13: 9781477817360

  ISBN-10: 1477817360

  Cover design by Edward Bettison

  Front cover crown illustration created by Edward Bettison

  Floral pattern from The Art of Illumination, Dover Pictura, 2009, royalty-free

  Back cover illustration inspired by public domain images found in the British Library Catalogue of Illuminated Manuscripts, http://www.bl.uk/catalogues/illuminatedmanuscripts/reuse.asp

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013915273

  Contents

  England, Anno Domini 1018

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  About the Translator

  England, Anno Domini 1018

  Prologue

  Anno Domini 1016

  Uhtred shivered in the morning fog. He scratched his crotch, shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, and listened into the mist. He and his men had ridden a long way the day before in the drenching spring rain, which fell cold at this elevation. They had not reached the hay barn—where they had agreed to meet Uhtred’s thanes—until well after nightfall.

  “Did you say you heard hoofbeats?” Uhtred asked.

  Ealdred was leaning forward attentively with his legs set wide apart. He nodded. Droplets hung from Ealdred’s neatly tended dark-blond beard, and rainwater dripped from the worn ring-mail byrnie he had removed from a fallen enemy after a battle. That battle was so far in the past that Uhtred could no longer recall where it had happened or whom they had been fighting.

  “Listen,” Ealdred said urgently.

  Was that a sound? Uhtred tried to see through the mist, but all he could make out was the grass under him—wiry, winter-gray grass, which had barely filled the bellies of the horses the night before. And their oat sacks were almost empty, too.

  But hungry horses couldn’t be avoided at the moment. The animals were still strong after weeks of eating grain during Uhtred’s raids south into Mercia, but Uhtred had distributed all the spoils from the raids to his army, not keeping any for himself or his horses. To his mind, this conflict wasn’t about plunder.

  Though Leofwine, ealdorman of Mercia, had switched sides and sworn fealty to Cnut, the Viking king, Uhtred, ealdorman of Northumbria, had hoped to increase his own power by remaining loyal to the old Saxon king, Ethelred. Why else would Uhtred have disowned his second wife to marry King Ethelred’s daughter?

  Uhtred had thus led his army southward, deep into Mercia, to strike at Leofwine. By ravaging his way through Mercia, Uhtred had shown the Viking king that England wasn’t conquered yet, and that Ethelred still commanded battle-ready men.

  Every burning farm, every granary consumed in flames meant fewer supplies for Cnut’s army, and every warrior who fell to the spears of Uhtred’s men and the swords of his thanes was one man fewer for the impenetrable shield walls of the Viking enemy.

  And then, amid his hour of victory, Uhtred had received word from the south: King Ethelred was ill—so ill he might die. And Edmund, whom the men called Ironside—King Ethelred’s son and Uhtred’s brother-in-law—now reportedly waged a fruitless fight against Cnut, whose Viking force had won almost every skirmish the previous winter as it steadily swelled with reinforcements of Saxons and Danes switching to Cnut’s side. Edmund could only clench his teeth in rage as he watched more and more of his sworn men change sides.

  Uhtred had broken off his raids in Mercia after he was informed of the battle at Penn in Selwood, where despite the Saxons’ greater numbers, the Saxon army had still not been able to break through the Danes’ shield walls. When night fell over the stalemate, both armies had pulled back.

  With King Ethelred on his deathbed, and his son unable to win battles even with a superior force, Uhtred had feared he would be trapped in enemy territory. Edmund had withdrawn to lick his wounds and raise new soldiers, and Uhtred knew his brother-in-law well enough to know that Edmund would avoid fighting for a while to rebuild his forces.

  During this lull, the road north to Uhtred’s lands would be open to both Cnut and Leofwine—and the latter was undoubtedly itching to march back north now that the war in the south was deadlocked. Once Leofwine had his army back in Mercia, he would be able to drum up more soldiers, while Uhtred would have only the men who had come south with him in the first place.

  Indeed, Uhtred’s scouts soon informed him that King Cnut was marching north. Since Leofwine was heading straight for Mercia, Uhtred withdrew to the northeast, afraid of being trapped between Cnut’s and Leofwine’s forces. Uhtred had dispatched his scouts forward, instructed skirmishers to cover his flanks, and made it back to his own Northumbrian borderlands without difficulties.

  And that’s where the surprise had been waiting.

  As Uhtred’s unit had approached a small hamlet, one of his forward scouts, Ulf, came riding back in such great haste that his horse’s flanks were covered with foam. Before Uhtred had had a chance to raise his right arm in greeting, Ealdred had turned his horse away from Uhtred’s and started barking orders to the men, who immediately dismounted and took shield-wall positions bisecting the trail, leaving a small gap they could close the second Uhtred and Ulf rode back through the line.

  “There are soldiers in the hamlet,” Ulf panted, his chest heaving.

  Uhtred glanced up the trail. Everything looked so peaceful in the pale spring sunlight.

  “Many?” Uhtred asked.

  Ulf shook his head, saying, “They’ve set up a peace marker.”

  Uhtred nodded to Ealdred, who dug his heels into his horse’s flanks and quickly rode ahead to confirm Ulf’s report. He soon vanished behind a little grove of ash trees.

  His hoofbeats grew fainter until they were completely gone. The trill of an early lark could be heard from the air above the shield wall.
The men stood with their spear tips pointed at the sky, eyes alert and muscles poised to lower spears at the least sign of an approaching enemy.

  Uhtred waited. His horse shifted beneath him, and he flexed his calves to tell the animal to stand still. A raven flew over him toward the ash grove.

  Soon they heard hoofbeats approaching again. The men instinctively closed ranks, but kept their spears up and their shields resting at their feet. They peered calmly ahead.

  “The mark of King Cnut!” Ealdred gasped, reining in his horse. There was no one behind him.

  “Cnut?” Uhtred asked, eyeing him sharply.

  “Just off the road in front of a farm, there’s a spear stuck in the dirt, tip down, with Cnut’s banner tied to the butt end,” Ealdred replied.

  The sign of peace.

  “Did you see any men?” Uhtred asked.

  “Four,” Ealdred said. “They weren’t carrying spears, and their swords were sheathed.”

  “Did you speak to them?”

  “One of them held his hands up to his heart and then put his palms together.”

  Another indication of peace.

  “Good,” Uhtred said, tapping his horse with his heels and calmly riding forward. Behind him he heard his men remounting their steeds to follow him.

  Ealdorman Uhtred of Northumbria rode into the hamlet with his thane Ealdred at his side. They passed three thatched farmhouses so low that their horses’ heads reached the eaves. Then they passed a few dilapidated little outbuildings and a wattle sheepfold. No palisade protected the perimeter.

  Sure enough, four Vikings stood in front of the largest farm. They weren’t wearing helmets or ring mail, and their hands were far from their sword hilts. A spear stood in the ground behind them. Cnut’s standard fluttered gently from the butt end of the spear in the mild breeze.

  The horses’ harnesses creaked as the men behind Uhtred dismounted. He didn’t turn around as they reformed their shield wall.

  One of the four Vikings stepped toward Uhtred. He was tall, as tall as Uhtred, with two thick red braids hanging down over his shoulders, water-blue eyes, and a fleshy nose over his thick lips.

  “Ealdorman Uhtred?” the Viking asked.

  Uhtred nodded.

  “I am Erik, thane to Cnut, bearing a message from the king.”

  “Proceed,” Uhtred said.

  Erik closed his eyes for a brief moment to gather his thoughts. Then in a clear voice he intoned: “I, Cnut Sweynsson, bid you greeting, Uhtred of Northumbria, whom I offer my friendship. There is no cause for dispute between us. We are both lords in our own right, and I, Cnut, acknowledge your right, Uhtred, as you should acknowledge mine. Let peace and harmony prevail between us. Let us be true friends to each other. This is the oath I offer you.”

  Ealdred gasped at the offer of peace, but Uhtred remained calm.

  “Was that the entire message?” Uhtred asked.

  Erik looked surprised for a moment, then nodded. “And your response?”

  Uhtred looked around and then said, “Cnut will have my response when it’s ready.”

  For a day, Uhtred kept to himself, thinking. Then he summoned his thane Ealdred and apprised him of his plan, which Ealdred agreed with.

  The wind was blowing Cnut’s way. It was now common knowledge that King Ethelred was on his deathbed. No one knew where his son Edmund Ironside was; it was as though Ironside had sunk into the earth. Uhtred had no doubt it was to gather forces to oppose Cnut again, but it was widely agreed he didn’t stand much chance. The soldiers crowding the roads and the thanes leading them were all moving in the same direction: Everyone was rallying around Cnut’s standard. Everyone was pledging allegiance to Cnut.

  Uhtred’s greatest concern was Ironside’s disappearance. How could he assess his brother-in-law’s plans if he didn’t know where to find him? How could he even know whether Ironside was still alive—and if he was, whether he had an army at his disposal?

  It wouldn’t have been hard for Ironside to find Uhtred. Cnut had, after all. And Ironside had ample scouts to predict which way Uhtred’s men would move as they marched home from enemy territory.

  But no Saxons had come looking for Uhtred. No messages reached him as he waited in the hamlet, and forced Erik to wait for his response.

  After his talk with Ealdred, Uhtred waited another three days.

  On the fourth day, Uhtred informed Erik that he would accept Cnut’s offered friendship and would provide Cnut with hostages as a guarantee of his good faith. Seven of his thanes went with Erik the Viking and his thick braids, while Erik’s three companions, mighty Viking chieftains whose names Uhtred knew all too well, stayed behind as assurance to Uhtred of Cnut’s good faith.

  Uhtred sent his wife word that he would no longer be her father’s ealdorman. He was going to become King Cnut’s jarl. That was the essence of Cnut’s message—I, Cnut, acknowledge your right, Uhtred—which Erik had recited with his eyes half-closed.

  Uhtred’s family had ruled Northumbria for five generations. At times his ancestors had held only Bernicia—the northernmost portion of the current earldom. At other times, such as now, they also ruled Deira to the south and called themselves, as Uhtred did, ealdorman of Northumbria.

  But their power had seen nothing but challenge, from Scots and Picts in the north, and, in the south, from the Danes who had settled in Northumbria a few generations back, displacing the Angles. The Danish settlers had taken over the Angles’ farms or had cultivated new ground to live side by side with them—but always as the new masters, who worshipped the ancient gods and spoke a Danish tongue the Angles could understand only with great difficulty.

  Uhtred had defeated the Scots himself back when his father was still alive. The Scottish king had thought an aging enemy would be easy prey, but they hadn’t counted on Uhtred, who rallied the men from Bernicia and Yorkshire and pounded away at the Scottish army with such might that the Scottish king returned to Scotland only by the skin of his teeth, and with so few men in tow that the Scots had henceforth left the border unchallenged.

  The victory had been great; the spoils, less so. However, the Scottish heads, which could still be seen on stakes here and there along the roads leading north, attested to Uhtred’s fighting spirit and his willingness to take on anyone who would seek to avenge those heads, whose bodies rotted in the ground outside Durham.

  But there were still Danes to the south who challenged Uhtred’s power. And he had yet to directly engage with the most powerful of them, Thurbrand the Hold. Uhtred knew perfectly well that Thurbrand was merely biding his time.

  Now that time would have to wait.

  King Cnut had offered to make Uhtred the Angle his jarl, which meant that Uhtred—and not Thurbrand—had the king’s favor.

  About ten days after Erik had recited Cnut’s message, Uhtred received word that Cnut was in Tadcaster but wanted to meet in three days in the village of Wiheal, about a half day’s march from the old fort. The king would await him in the central hall in Wiheal before midday, accept his oath and those of the men swearing with him, and after that declare Uhtred his jarl in Northumbria.

  Uhtred had immediately sent word for his own retainers and noblemen to meet him that morning so they could enter Wiheal together. Ulf the scout, who was from the area, had suggested a hay barn where they might meet. Uhtred and his retinue had arrived late the night before the meeting, getting a decent night’s sleep in what was left of the hay after the winter.

  Ealdred stood perfectly still at Uhtred’s side outside the hay barn. The morning fog essentially blinded them. From behind, they heard the men’s feet sliding through wet, winter-dead grass, followed by muffled orders. Uhtred’s housecarls had assumed defensive positions around the hay barn. It was now half a moon since Erik had recited the king’s offer, and today was the day Uhtred and King Cnut would finally seal their friendship.

  Above the sound of approaching hoofbeats, they could also clearly hear saddles creaking and groaning under their riders�
� weight, the faint knocking of sword sheaths against leather-clad thighs, and a few coughs from fog-moistened throats.

  As soon as the first heads became visible through the wisps of fog, it was clear the visitors were not there to fight. Uhtred recognized the helmet with the blond shock of hair topping its comb. It belonged to Hubert, Uhtred’s own bannerman. The day after Uhtred had given Erik his response for Cnut, he had recalled Hubert from Mercia, ordering him to get word to the other noblemen of Northumbria that they should report immediately to swear their fealty to Cnut.

  Now Uhtred stood wide-legged as the fog burned off, offering each nobleman in turn the same greeting: a clenched fist to the chest, the sign that as their master he acknowledged they had met their obligation to him. They would enter Wiheal together.

  Thane rode beside thane, chieftain beside reeve. They were all from the finest families in the region, commanders of land and men. They had shown their mettle in battle and war and had fought with and for Uhtred—indeed, a few of them even for his father, just as their sons would one day fight for Uhtred’s sons.

  Uhtred had promised to bring forty men to swear with him—to pledge their fealty at his side as a promise that the jarl and all under him would live, fight, and die for King Cnut forever after.

  Before setting out, the assembly ate a quick meal of bread and cheese, washing it down with the last of the ale from the kegs secured to their saddle pommels. The newly arrived men who were still in ring mail removed it, handing it over to their slaves and servants. The ealdorman, soon-to-be jarl, of Northumbria then mounted his horse to lead his retinue into Wiheal. The king had promised safe-conduct and that he himself would not be armed at their meeting, so Uhtred and his men did not ride as soldiers.

  When Uhtred dismissed his housecarls, Ealdred’s head drooped, realizing the order applied to him as well. But Uhtred was firm.

  “Someone needs to lead my housecarls home,” Uhtred said, “And make sure you go straight home and don’t get caught up drinking and whoring.”

  “But—” Thane Ealdred began.

  Uhtred shook his head and gestured with his chin toward the three Viking chieftains, whom Erik had left with them as surety.