| War and History Fan Fiction posted February 6, 2025 | Chapters: |
1 -2- 3... 
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Osbert and company leave Bebbanburg for the old roman roads.
A chapter in the book A Crown Of Thorns
Southbound, Part One.
by Dopeless Hopefiend
| Background A fan-fiction continuation of Bernard Cornwell's "The Saxon Stories" following the legendary Uhtred's grandson, Osbert, and the next generation of Bebbanburg rulers. |
Chapter 1 Recap: Elaina leads a retaliatory raid into Scottish land, resulting in the death of a Scottish prince. After returning with the body to Bebbanburg and receiving a mixed reaction from the aging Lord Uhtred, she is told to throw the body into the sea and keep news within the walls. A priest arrives shortly thereafter with a summons from Emperor Aethelstan for the Lord Uhtred. The old wolf is weary about travelling to Winchester. The priest sees the body on the way out and Elaina and Cian don't do well hiding his identity. Lord Uhtred elects to send Osbert, Elaina and Cian as envoys to Aethelstan and to accompany the priest back to Wessex.
The gates of Bebbanburg groaned open, their iron hinges screaming like wounded beasts. I waved at my father who was moving quickly down the hill from the hall behind us.
"Osbert!" He called after us, and I pulled the reigns on my horse to slow her, clicking softly with my tongue and nudging her turn.
"Father?" I asked as he approached.
"Osbert, the priest is not to make it to Wessex, understand?" His voice was low, and the order was only for my ears.
"What shall I do?" I asked with a tinge of unintentional nervousness in my voice. I was not pious to the christ god beyond honoring my father and wearing a cross next to my hammer, still I knew the spiritual ramifications for killing a priest could be eternal torment.
"Do what you must." He touched my leg in the stirrup lightly. "-but whatever you do, make sure that priest can tell no tales of dead princes to our Lord King."
I nodded. "As you wish, father."
I said the words, but I did not know how I was going to act on them. I caught up quickly with Elaina and Cian at the gate, and let them know Father Eadric was to have misfortune on our journey. Cian touched his cross at his neck quietly, but neither seemed as perturbed by the notion as I was.
Dawn's pale light seeped over the North Sea, staining the waves blood-red. Elaina rode at the head of our party, her twin shamshir blades glinting like crescent moons at her back. Cian flanked her, his usual smirk replaced by a warrior's grimace. Behind them, Father Eadric hunched in his saddle, fingers clutching his rosary as if it could ward off the devil himself. Rurik trailed at the rear, his young face tight with resentment. At fifteen, he'd already bloodied his axe in a dozen skirmishes with the Shewolf crew, but today he was a packmule, burdened with supplies and pride.
"Keep up, boy," Cian called over his shoulder, tossing a grin sharper than his seax. "Or the Scots'll make a necklace of your teeth."
Rurik's hand flew to his axe. "I'll carve their tongues out before they think to try."
Elaina shot him a warning glance. "Save your fire for the ones who matter."
Father Eadric flinched, his lips moving in silent prayer. The priest had been a ghost since we'd wrapped the Scottish prince's body in sailcloth, fastened him to an anchor stone and rolled him into the open sea. He knew too much. We all did.
The road south unraveled like a frayed rope, cutting through hillsides scarred by ancient forts and forests choked with mist. Ravens circled overhead, their cries sharp as blade-strokes. I glanced up at them, and they headed north, and I wondered what omen that could be. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Ditches and trenches lined the plains around us, suffering the scars of previous wars, and I thought about that.
"Do you think they'll come for us?" Rurik asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. "The Scots, I mean. After what happened to their prince?"
Elaina didn't turn. "They'll come. But not for revenge. They'll come because they're hungry. And hunger makes men stupid."
Cian chuckled. "Stupid men die faster."
Father Eadric cleared his throat, his voice trembling. "Violence begets violence. The Lord teaches us to turn the other cheek."
Elaina's laugh was sharp, like the clash of steel. "Turn the other cheek, and risk losing your whole head. My people learned that the hard way."
The priest fell silent, his fingers tightening around his rosary. I glanced at Elaina, her face unreadable in the dim light. She rarely spoke of her past, but the scars on her arms and the fire in her eyes told stories she wouldn't share. Turning my attention back to Father Eadric, I nudged my horse beside him.
"What is that you do for King Aethelstan, Father?"
The priest raised an eyebrow to my question, let out a soft sigh and released his rosary to take a hold of his reigns. "I am a chaplain to our Emperor Aethelstan, and as our lord wills, a confessor."
I nodded to his words. "How is the Lord Emperor?" I inquired in a small voice, noting his title correction and entertaining it. I wasn't really sure why I was making conversation with the doomed holy man, but I was curious about Aethelstan. I had never met him as an adult, despite him being at Bebbanburg just a year or two ago.
"He is as most good rulers are. Completely entrenched in the god given responsibility he has, but... he manages." The priest replied in a low rumble, glancing at me curiously.
I nodded again, recognizing the priest could not say too much as a confessor to Aethelstan without jeopardizing the spiritual responsibility he has to most, if not all, the king's trouble.
"There is still time for you, you know-" he continued, and I turned my head to look at his large brown eyes.
"Time for what?"
He gave an upward lift of his head toward my hammer and cross, and touched his own thick wooden cross simultaneously. "For redemption, Osbert Uhtredsson. To repel the notion of the false idols"
"Ah, don't bother, father-" Cian chimed in from a few paces ahead, his horse throwing mud back at us with each step. "He's stubborn as a mule, that one."
The priest grimaced, and I shrugged my shoulders in reply as we continued on. After some time riding in silence, I spurred my horse up in between Elaina and Cian.
"It will take a few weeks to get to Winchester, where Aethelstan has his seat of power, so I had planned a few stops to rest along the way."
Elaina's glance was quick and sharp. "Stops? Where?"
"You know I won't argue sleeping under thatch, I hear there're rats south of here as big as dogs," Cian paused and outstretched his hands, as if I did not know how big a dog was, "...but do you think being seen with Father Eyewitness over there in public is a good idea?" his grin steadfast as he threw his head backward toward Father Eadric.
"I do, actually-" I began and quickened the pace of my horse, motioning for Elaina and Cian to do the same. "If he appears to be a part of our group, a friend even, it may help us avoid suspicion once he is..." I glanced backward quickly before ending the sentence in a low voice "... missing."
"So... where are we stopping?" Elaina prodded again, a hint of anxiety coating her words.
"Jorvik first. I know the Lord Orm there since I was a child, he is Aethelstan's man. It will do us well to be seen traveling with the kings confessor as a friend in his great hall."
Elaina nodded slowly. "Jorvik is good. We can get a good feel for the temperature of that settlement as well."
"Ya'mean we can check if Olaf has men there already?" Cian asked, leaning forward so he could peer around me at Elaina.
"Why not? Sending word to the old wolf back home can only help us prepare."
"True," I entered in.
Chapter 2, Part One: Southbound
The gates of Bebbanburg groaned open, their iron hinges screaming like wounded beasts. I waved at my father who was moving quickly down the hill from the hall behind us.
"Osbert!" He called after us, and I pulled the reigns on my horse to slow her, clicking softly with my tongue and nudging her turn.
"Father?" I asked as he approached.
"Osbert, the priest is not to make it to Wessex, understand?" His voice was low, and the order was only for my ears.
"What shall I do?" I asked with a tinge of unintentional nervousness in my voice. I was not pious to the christ god beyond honoring my father and wearing a cross next to my hammer, still I knew the spiritual ramifications for killing a priest could be eternal torment.
"Do what you must." He touched my leg in the stirrup lightly. "-but whatever you do, make sure that priest can tell no tales of dead princes to our Lord King."
I nodded. "As you wish, father."
I said the words, but I did not know how I was going to act on them. I caught up quickly with Elaina and Cian at the gate, and let them know Father Eadric was to have misfortune on our journey. Cian touched his cross at his neck quietly, but neither seemed as perturbed by the notion as I was.
Dawn's pale light seeped over the North Sea, staining the waves blood-red. Elaina rode at the head of our party, her twin shamshir blades glinting like crescent moons at her back. Cian flanked her, his usual smirk replaced by a warrior's grimace. Behind them, Father Eadric hunched in his saddle, fingers clutching his rosary as if it could ward off the devil himself. Rurik trailed at the rear, his young face tight with resentment. At fifteen, he'd already bloodied his axe in a dozen skirmishes with the Shewolf crew, but today he was a packmule, burdened with supplies and pride.
"Keep up, boy," Cian called over his shoulder, tossing a grin sharper than his seax. "Or the Scots'll make a necklace of your teeth."
Rurik's hand flew to his axe. "I'll carve their tongues out before they think to try."
Elaina shot him a warning glance. "Save your fire for the ones who matter."
Father Eadric flinched, his lips moving in silent prayer. The priest had been a ghost since we'd wrapped the Scottish prince's body in sailcloth, fastened him to an anchor stone and rolled him into the open sea. He knew too much. We all did.
The road south unraveled like a frayed rope, cutting through hillsides scarred by ancient forts and forests choked with mist. Ravens circled overhead, their cries sharp as blade-strokes. I glanced up at them, and they headed north, and I wondered what omen that could be. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Ditches and trenches lined the plains around us, suffering the scars of previous wars, and I thought about that.
"Do you think they'll come for us?" Rurik asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. "The Scots, I mean. After what happened to their prince?"
Elaina didn't turn. "They'll come. But not for revenge. They'll come because they're hungry. And hunger makes men stupid."
Cian chuckled. "Stupid men die faster."
Father Eadric cleared his throat, his voice trembling. "Violence begets violence. The Lord teaches us to turn the other cheek."
Elaina's laugh was sharp, like the clash of steel. "Turn the other cheek, and risk losing your whole head. My people learned that the hard way."
The priest fell silent, his fingers tightening around his rosary. I glanced at Elaina, her face unreadable in the dim light. She rarely spoke of her past, but the scars on her arms and the fire in her eyes told stories she wouldn't share. Turning my attention back to Father Eadric, I nudged my horse beside him.
"What is that you do for King Aethelstan, Father?"
The priest raised an eyebrow to my question, let out a soft sigh and released his rosary to take a hold of his reigns. "I am a chaplain to our Emperor Aethelstan, and as our lord wills, a confessor."
I nodded to his words. "How is the Lord Emperor?" I inquired in a small voice, noting his title correction and entertaining it. I wasn't really sure why I was making conversation with the doomed holy man, but I was curious about Aethelstan. I had never met him as an adult, despite him being at Bebbanburg just a year or two ago.
"He is as most good rulers are. Completely entrenched in the god given responsibility he has, but... he manages." The priest replied in a low rumble, glancing at me curiously.
I nodded again, recognizing the priest could not say too much as a confessor to Aethelstan without jeopardizing the spiritual responsibility he has to most, if not all, the king's trouble.
"There is still time for you, you know-" he continued, and I turned my head to look at his large brown eyes.
"Time for what?"
He gave an upward lift of his head toward my hammer and cross, and touched his own thick wooden cross simultaneously. "For redemption, Osbert Uhtredsson. To repel the notion of the false idols"
"Ah, don't bother, father-" Cian chimed in from a few paces ahead, his horse throwing mud back at us with each step. "He's stubborn as a mule, that one."
The priest grimaced, and I shrugged my shoulders in reply as we continued on. After some time riding in silence, I spurred my horse up in between Elaina and Cian.
"It will take a few weeks to get to Winchester, where Aethelstan has his seat of power, so I had planned a few stops to rest along the way."
Elaina's glance was quick and sharp. "Stops? Where?"
"You know I won't argue sleeping under thatch, I hear there're rats south of here as big as dogs," Cian paused and outstretched his hands, as if I did not know how big a dog was, "...but do you think being seen with Father Eyewitness over there in public is a good idea?" his grin steadfast as he threw his head backward toward Father Eadric.
"I do, actually-" I began and quickened the pace of my horse, motioning for Elaina and Cian to do the same. "If he appears to be a part of our group, a friend even, it may help us avoid suspicion once he is..." I glanced backward quickly before ending the sentence in a low voice "... missing."
"So... where are we stopping?" Elaina prodded again, a hint of anxiety coating her words.
"Jorvik first. I know the Lord Orm there since I was a child, he is Aethelstan's man. It will do us well to be seen traveling with the kings confessor as a friend in his great hall."
Elaina nodded slowly. "Jorvik is good. We can get a good feel for the temperature of that settlement as well."
"Ya'mean we can check if Olaf has men there already?" Cian asked, leaning forward so he could peer around me at Elaina.
"Why not? Sending word to the old wolf back home can only help us prepare."
"True," I entered in.
We let that thought hang there a moment before I continued.
"After York, Leicester. I am not sure who is ruling in that seat at the moment, but I am sure Lady Aelfwynn wouldn't have anyone who wasn't friendly so close to Tamworth. Then from Leicester to Tamworth, and Tamworth to Winchester, that will be the longest stretch of riding."
"And where we lose the priest?" Cian asked, his tone implying it was as simple as saying the words.
"Where we kill the priest?" Elaina corrected him, her gaze still straight forward.
"Shh, enough! He'll hear us-" I whispered, glancing back at Father Eadric who met my eyes immediately. I instinctively broke eye contact. Perhaps too quickly.
"After York, Leicester. I am not sure who is ruling in that seat at the moment, but I am sure Lady Aelfwynn wouldn't have anyone who wasn't friendly so close to Tamworth. Then from Leicester to Tamworth, and Tamworth to Winchester, that will be the longest stretch of riding."
"And where we lose the priest?" Cian asked, his tone implying it was as simple as saying the words.
"Where we kill the priest?" Elaina corrected him, her gaze still straight forward.
"Shh, enough! He'll hear us-" I whispered, glancing back at Father Eadric who met my eyes immediately. I instinctively broke eye contact. Perhaps too quickly.
"Right, well, whichever we decide, we will get it done quick and that will be that," Cian remarked, and spat to ward off any evil. Elaina followed suit, and out of reflex I touched my hammer. And fate laughed.
York, or Jorvik as the Danes fashioned it, rose like a rotting tooth on the horizon, its Roman walls crumbling under the weight of Saxon and Danish ambition. The city seethed—a stew of smoke, dung, and desperation. Merchants hawked rusted swords and rotting fish, their voices drowned by the clang of blacksmiths and the laughter of drunkards. A beggar missing an eye clawed at Elaina’s stirrup, howling for alms in broken danish until Cian tossed him a copper.
"Charity?" Elaina raised an eyebrow.
"Shut him up," Cian shrugged. "Noise draws the rats."
I smiled.
At the gate, guards in rusted mail barred our path. Their leader, a hulk with a scar splitting his cheek, eyed Elaina’s blades. "State your business."
"Envoys of the Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg," I said, spurring my horse beside her and thumbing the hammer pendant at my throat. "Bound for Winchester."
The guard spat at the feet of Elaina's horse. "The Lord Orm’ll want words."
The gate opened for us and led down what once were roman built cobblestone roads, now eroding into a stone here or there every few steps. We eventually reached the great hall, and the guard pulled a single door open. The stank of old mead, roasting meats and sweat filled my nostrils. Tapestries of long-dead kings frayed on the walls, their threads weeping dust. There was no steward anywhere to be seen, not that the hall was empty. Armed warriors filled the walls and the long table. I noticed the lack of English being spoken; it seemed to me the warriors were primarily Danes and Norse. Everyone in our traveling party spoke degrees of the danish language, save for the priest, and I dare say I was most fluent. I thought to myself that it wouldn't be completely out of the ordinary for so many Danish warriors to be present. York was under Danish and Norse control for many years.
A large feasting table led up to a dais where Orm himself resembled a boar sat on a throne, his beard streaked with ash, hazel eyes glinting like flint below his bald head.
"Osbert Uhtredsson," he rumbled and rocked in his chair to stand himself up with a grunt. "Last I saw you, you were pissing in your father’s shadow."
I forced a nod. "Lord Orm. My grandfather sends greetings."
He ignored that. His gaze slid to Elaina. "And the Vicious One. Those blades… Sassanid steel, no? Oda’s gift, I hear. Strange, for a bishop."
Elaina’s fingers brushed her hilt. "Strange men give strange gifts."
Orm laughed, a sound like stones grinding. "True. But you’re not here to discuss blades." He leaned forward, ale sloshing in his cup.
"We are just here seeking your hospitality for a night, Lord." I replied and bowed my head slightly.
"Why is King Aethelstan summoning Uhtred’s whelps? Trouble in the south?" Orm asked as he beckoned us forward and extended his arm toward the table where buckets of ale sat waiting to be drawn into a horn.
"The summons was for the Lord Uhtred, but my grandfather is not wishing to travel at this time-" I paused, taking a breath and trying to get a measure of Orm. "You’d know better than us though Lord," I said, meeting his stare. "Rumor says Olaf Guthfrithson’s sharpening axes in Dublin. Do you fear he’ll come for York again?"
Orm’s smile thinned. "Olaf’s a pup, but..." he paused for a moment, looking over Elaina from head to toe and I wondered, what did he see? He saw a beautiful yet weather hardened woman with dark, sun-kissed skin, wild grey eyes, and long, dark hair pulled into a thick braid. She dressed in a leather jerkin and tighter fitting wool pants. A dagger on her belt and the two curved blades hung on her back. Though heavily scarred, she was attractive, and deadly. I've learned that does something to most men.
"Olaf's a pup," he said, starting over again. "...but pups grow teeth." He tore his eyes away from Elaina and waved a servant forward with bread, cheese, and salt. "Eat. You’ll need strength for those snakes in Winchester."
Cian tore into a loaf immediately. "Snakes?" he chewed audibly "I heard about rats, but Snakes too?"
"Aethelstan’s court is a pit of them. Priests, lords, spies…" Orm’s gaze shifted to Father Eadric. "Even holy men can bite when cornered."
The priest stiffened. "I serve God and Emperor, Lord Orm."
"Do you?" Orm’s chuckle was cold. "Gods and..." a pause, and his upper lip twitched "Emperors, demand much. I myself pray neither demands your throat."
The priest bridled, and Elaina leaned forward with a mocking smile across her thin lips. "And what does York demand?"
Orm’s eyes darkened, maybe from her omitting his proper title or more likely sensing the questioning of his fealty "Loyalty." he exhaled the word "Saftey..."
Elaina glanced down, concentrating on a piece of bread from the loaf, rolling it around between her fingers. "Whoever you claim loyalty to will dictate your level of safety."
"What are you suggesting, Elaina The Vicious?" He may as well had spat her name and I could feel the mood in the hall changing. "Are you suggesting that Jorvik would not or does not remain loyal to King Aethelstan?"
"Emperor," Father Eadric threw in with nervous excitement, his eyes on Orm filled with skepticism. "Emperor Aethelstan, and I think what she is-"
He got no further, as Elaina cut him off, turning her head around the hall in observance of all the danish speaking warriors. "I say that loyalty should not be another trade good for sale in the market." A grin made her lips appear much like the blades of her swords. She hissed the last word. "...Lord."
Orm's face dropped further. There was a long moment of silence where the only sound on our end of the long table was the noise of Cian's teeth tearing apart the twice baked stale bread loaf, and Rurik, who sat silently behind Cian gargling his third horn of ale. Orm pushed himself back up to his feet and nodded to a warrior standing off to the left, his arm rising toward the doors. "There is an alehouse down the street. You can stay there for one night."
"Is their ale better than this rat's piss?" Cian remarked turning his mouth full of bread to mush with the last of his horn. We all rose to our feet, understanding the dismissal.
"Ale paid for in silver is always better than what you receive out of hospitality," he hissed the word. "...travel safely pups." a grumble, and the guardsman guided us out of the hall door and back onto the road.
A clash of steel rang out in the distance down the old cobblestone path, and a group of men erupted from a side alley in a red mist. People scattered about and the men fought savagely in the road infront of an old building, it's roman stone foundation built up by northumbrian oak and roofed in greening thatch. I could see the blood darkening the marble and mud from where I stood.
"Is that the alehouse?" Rurik asked, the child in him surfacing and giving his voice an inordinary high pitch.
"Welcome to Jorvik, boy." the guardsman grumbled, and gave Rurik a small shove forward.
----------------------------------------------------
Uhtred Ragnarsson: "The old wolf," "Uhtred The Elder," legendary ruler of Bebbanburg, Northumbria.
Uhtred The Younger: Son of the old wolf, reliable, pragmatic. Osbert's father.
Osbert Uhtredsson: Son of Uhtred The Younger, Grandson of living legend Uhtred Ragnarsson
Cian: Son of Uhtred Ragnarsson's lifelong companion, Finan. Grew up with Osbert and Elaina.
Elaina "The Vicious": Former childhood slave of Italian birth, liberated by Uhtred The Elder very young and raised in Bebbanburg.
Father Eadric: Priest, Chaplain, and Confessor to Emperor Aethelstan.
Rurik Skallagrimsson: Son of Berg, another friend of the elder Uhtred. 15 years old on the verge of manhood.
Emperor Aethelstan: Emperor of the Britons, "Bastard" son of Edward, raised in Uhtred Ragnarsson's household, and later in Lady Aethelflaed's household alongside Uhtred The Younger.
Lord Orm: Ruler in Jorvik (York) known to be a survivor, and adaptable. Given his power from Emperor Aethelstan after The Battle of Brunnanburh, AD 937
Lady Aelfwynn: Daughter of Lady Aethelflaed, and now Lady in northern Mercia of multiple burhs, ruling primarily out of Tamworth. Grew up with Emperor Aethelstan and Uhtred The Younger.
Lady Aethelflaed: Deceased "Lady Of Mercia" who ruled Mercia after her husband, Aethelred, succumbed to wounds from battle. Lover of Uhtred Ragnarsson, and close family friend.
Olaf Gufrithsson: Norse king in Dublin, believes his birth right is to rule in York. Lost to Athelstan at Brununburh, AD 937, but his influence has only slightly waned in the Northumbrian capital.
 Recognized |
Thanks again to Bernard Cornwell and please refer to Chapter One for further disclosures. Thank you for reading, I know it is long, your time is cherished. (:
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