Warrior Princess

But in my heart, I knew he was right. Beohred was a fool. He'd picked a pointless fight with King Aethelwulf of Wessex and lost the prize Dukedom of Berkshire as a result. No one said that within these walls - but many thought it - actually everyone thought it. But dissenting voices were few and far between - no one dared criticise our Mercian allies.

I furrowed my brow and stared intently at him.

"You would do well, Cedric of Chertsey, to keep such opinions to yourself," I muttered reproachfully.

He smiled back at me - a broad, disarming smile.

"Forgive me my lady," he said quietly. He bowed deferentially.

The two of us stood side-by-side looking out over the walls. Part of me demanded that I turn on my heel and stride away from, never to look back. Perhaps he was simply a fool - a naïve novice repeating half-truths and gossip, not knowing when to shut his mouth. But maybe there was more to him - a voice I'd never heard before, with knowledge of the world beyond the castle walls. There was something compelling about him - everyone here was always so deferential, but Cedric was unfazed by the fact that I was a princess - he spoke as if I were any other eighteen-year-old woman - and that was refreshing. I waited, hoping to hear more.

"So if your sister has married the King of Mercia, will you marry a Prince of Wessex?" he asked mischievously, breaking the silence.

I stared coldly back at him. Was he trying to push me too far? Surely not another of my father's subjects speculating about my marriage prospects? Did the citizens of Surrey really talk of nothing else?

"Prince Aethelstan has been married these past five years, maybe more," I replied sternly. "And his father has made him King of Kent. I will not marry him."

How could Cedric not know that?

"But Aethelwulf has another son, does he not? Prince Alfred - he is not yet married."

Now it was my turn to laugh. I shook my head.

"No one has seen Alfred for a year, maybe two," I smiled. "They say he is sickly - maybe mad. They say he is kept in Winchester - hidden from all eyes to spare his father's shame." I paused. "Some even say that he is dead. No, I will not marry Alfred either."

The novice frowned.

"They say the prince is dead?" he shook his head quietly. "Perhaps he does not want to be found."

That was too much. I took a deep breath, preparing to admonish him for his presumption, to challenge him and then to storm away. But as I opened my mouth to object, there was a shout from behind me.

"My lady!"

I turned - it was my maidservant.

"My lady, I have been searching for your everywhere," she sounded agitated. "Your mother is asking for you."

I gritted my teeth.

"Send word to the queen - I will come," I replied, dismissing her with a wave of my hand.

The maidservant curtseyed and disappeared back along the castle wall.

I looked up at the novice. It was time to say goodbye - and not a moment too soon. I would never see him again - good riddance.

"Farewell Cedric of Chertsey. I thank you for your service to my father and to this realm. May God protect you."

He held out his hand towards me, to stay my retreat.

"Stay watchful, my lady. I fear great danger this night," he said quietly.

"Danger?" I mocked incredulously. "In Morden Castle? Now you have gone too far - you would insult the king's protection?"

"Forty Vikings languish in the dungeons - they are cold, they are hungry, they are angry - and they would have their revenge."

"You doubt the finest guardsmen in the kingdom?" I demanded furiously.

"My lady," he replied, fixing me with a cold stare. "The guards are drunk."

-

"Where have you been?" My mother jabbed an accusatory finger at me as I entered my bedchamber.

"Forgive me, your majesty," I curtsied deferentially. "I was taking the night air."

"Your father was most displeased that you vanished without seeking his leave," she snapped.

My father would not have noticed, but there was no point arguing.

"Forgive me, dear mother - I felt faint after the dance," I replied weakly, resting my hand on my stomach.

That did the trick.

"Come Elspeth. Sit," the queen purred soothingly, attempting a smile and motioning to the seat in front of my dressing table. "Let me brush your hair before you retire to bed."

I sat, as bidden, and my mother began to remove the pins that held my long black tresses clear of my neck. I swallowed and braced myself for a lecture.

"Your father was very pleased to see the captives brought in," she began.

Where was this going, I wondered. It was probably best to humour her.

"I rejoice at the victory," I agreed. "Father will claim a fair ransom for the Viking nobles."

My mother picked up the comb from my dressing table and began to run it through my hair, teasing the intertwined strands apart.

"He will send word to Winchester," she continued, "to inform King Aethelwulf of his success..."

I pricked up my ears.

"King Aethelwulf of Wessex!" I echoed quietly. "Surely he will receive the news with interest."

So - my father had finally come to his senses and seen what everyone else had known for at least two years. Beohred was useless - the Mercians would not protect us from the Vikings - a new alliance was our only hope.

"...and he will propose your hand for Prince Alfred," my mother added as casually as she could.

Subtlety was not her strong point.

"Alfred?!" I yelped in horror, turning around sharply to face her. "But Mother, everyone knows he is weak and sickly - Aethelwulf is too embarrassed to let the people see him. I cannot marry him - I will not!"

I glared defiantly at her, receiving a sharp slap as I did so.

"You will do your duty!" she hissed, bringing her face close to mine. "If you cared about this land and our people, you would obey without question!" she snarled.

"My duty?" I snapped. "So you would condemn me to a miserable marriage like my sister? And for what? Every week the Vikings raid this land - and what has Beohred done to help us? Nothing! My brother-in-law lifts not a finger for his own people - let alone this kingdom. A Prince of Wessex will be the same - he will take my dowry and turn his back! No, I will not. I shall not marry Alfred!"

Another slap delivered a stinging pain to my cheek.

"Then you will marry Sigbehrt instead!" my mother snapped back.

"Sigbehrt?!!!!"

"He is Thane of Chertsey and son of the most powerful earl in the kingdom," she growled. "If we cannot look to other lands, we must bind the great Surrey families together!"

"Sigbehrt?!!!!" I repeated in disbelief.

"I saw you dancing with him, this evening," she answered - more softly now. She was trying to soothe me, trying to cajole me. "I thought you were liking him more."

"Liking him?" I hissed. "I only danced to stop his pestering. I got away as soon as I could. He is nothing but a slimy toad."

"You would malign the son of the Earl of Guildown?" my mother shrieked, pushing me forwards and raking the comb painfully over my scalp. "A man your father honoured today for his most loyal service?"

I glared back at her. My father was weak and Sigweard was his greatest threat. He'd had no choice but to reward the schemer and his ambitious son - but he was only delaying the inevitable.

I took a deep breath but bit my tongue - insulting the king would be a step too far.

"I will not marry Sigbehrt or Alfred or anyone else you choose for me!" I shouted back, shaking with rage. "I will marry a man I love."

My mother hurled the comb across the room and grabbed my jaw.

"You shall go to bed and think on your own selfishness," she growled. "Tomorrow had better find you more obedient!"

She stalked out of my bedchamber and slammed the door behind her.

I flung myself on my bed and sobbed myself to sleep.

-

I woke with a start. A bright light was shining in my face. Loud shouts and heavy footsteps echoed down the stairwell outside.

"W-w-what is happening? Who is that?" I cried out, confused and disorientated. I clutched at the sides of the bed as I attempted to haul myself upright.

The intruder's face loomed out of the darkness.

"It is I, Sigbehrt, Thane of Chertsey!" he leered, bringing his face close to mine.

He reeked of alcohol. He was quite clearly drunk.

"H-h-how did you get in here?" I asked in horror, struggling to push myself away from him.

"I bring you good news, my lady - my love," his words chilled me to the bone. I felt sick.

He placed the lamp on the table beside my bed, then lifted his hand to stroke my cheek.

I shuddered.

"Please go away," I begged, "or I will shout for the guards!"

Sigbehrt threw back his head and laughed contemptuously.

"I bring you good news, my lady. For we shall be married!" he said slowly. He brought his lips forwards to kiss me.

I placed my hand on his chest and tried to shove him away, but I was too weak. He was leaning over me now, placing more weight on top of me, pinning my legs with his.

"Get off!" I cried.

"We shall be married," he leered, his face hovering over mine.

"No - please Sigbehrt, you are drunk. Don't make me shout for the guards. You will be disgraced if they find you here."

Another leering laugh. He was fully on top of me now, forcing my shoulders down, crushing me with his body.

"We shall be married," he said for a third time.

"Sigbehrt, we will not be married," I replied firmly. I was thinking quickly - he was beginning to hurt me and provoking him further would only make him angry - what could I do to get him off me?

"I am betrothed to another," I blurted out, clutching at the first straw that came to mind.

"Betrothed to another?" he snarled, pushing away a little from me in surprise. "And who is the lucky man?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Prince Alfred of Wessex."

Sigbehrt leant back and a deep, mocking laugh. "Prince Alfred of Wessex - the sickly Prince Alfred of Wessex!" he guffawed.

That was my chance - I took a deep breath and let out a piercing scream, but instantly a heavy hand was clamped tightly over my mouth.

"Prince Alfred can neither walk nor talk, my lady - he cannot even fuck a whore!" he cackled, bringing his face down close to mine again. "His father hides him to spare his shame. No, no my lady - you will not marry him!"

He threw back his head and laughed in contempt.

I was beginning to struggle now, fearful of what Sigbehrt might do, I tried to wriggle from his grasp, but he was too strong and too heavy.

"No Princess Elspeth - there is much you do not know. For now your father is signing his kingdom over to mine. It is my family that will rule Surrey - we have the power now - your little cunt will seal the deal. I will be the one to take you!"

Suddenly, there was a shout from behind him.

"Get off her!"

A dark heavy object caught Sigbehrt on the side of the head and knocked him onto the floor. Suddenly free, I slipped over the side of the bed and cowered behind it.

A new face appeared in the yellow lamplight.

"Princess Elspeth, it is I, Cedric of Chertsey!"

"Cedric?!" I gasped in surprise. The novice monk had come to rescue me?

"The castle is under attack. The Vikings are freed. They are killing the guards. We must get to the king. You must get dressed." The urgency in his voice shocked me to action.

Unquestioningly, I ran to my closet. Hands shaking, I found my tunic and began to pull it over my head. I looked across at Cedric. He was kneeling over Sigbehrt, removing his sword and his dagger.

"Is he dead?" I asked. I could hear the trembling in my voice.

"I think so," Cedric replied.

My rescuer sounded calm - that reassured me. I took some deep breaths. A second oil lamp was sitting by my dressing table - I lit it and handed it to him.

"How did you know he was here?" I asked, pointing to Sigbehrt's body.

"We must get to the king," Cedric replied, ignoring my question. "You are ready?"

I nodded. "Yes."

He fastened Sigbehrt's sword around his waist and looked up.

"You have your bow and your arrows? You will need them. We will need to fight."

I picked up my bow and slung a quiver of bolts over my shoulder.

Cedric picked up the lamp and made towards the door.

"No, this way," I said, pointing to the other side of the room. "There is a secret stairway."

I felt along the wooden panels that lined the walls and pressed lightly. The hidden door creaked open, revealing the stone steps behind.

I pressed my finger to my lips and pointed upwards to the room above.

Cedric nodded and ducked his head, following me into the passageway. He turned and closed the secret door behind us.

An argument was raging in the bedchamber above us; furious voices were echoing down the spiral staircase as we climbed. I strained to listen - I felt a twinge of pride - my father was fighting back - this was not a weak, old man, begging for his life - this was a king standing up for his kingdom!

Cedric followed behind me, the yellow light from the oil lamps casting shadows on the rough-hewn stones. Tightly I gripped my bow in my hand - we would have the element of surprise - but it would not be ours for long.

"So you would have me sign away Southwark and Battersea?" my father was shouting. "The Vikings will not be satisfied - next spring they will be back - Croyden, Kingston, then Chertsey. In two years they will be laying siege to Guildown, Reygatte and Godhelming. You have been tricked Lord Sigweard - you have sold your soul - piece by piece they will take this land - until there is nothing left."

The earl gave a loud cackle. "Your majesty," he crowed sarcastically. "The Vikings will not deal with you - they see your weakness - they smell your fear! You are the failed king - the other Anglo-Saxon rulers will not help you - they laugh at you behind your back - even your son-in-law despises you!"

Cedric and I had reached the top of the stairwell. There was a crack at the top of the door that the two of us could peek through. I pressed my nose against the wood and surveyed the scene.

"Sigweard is stalling for time - he thought there would be more with him," whispered Cedric in my ear.

I nodded. My father was at his writing desk, dressed in his nightclothes, a scroll of parchment in front of him. Sigweard was leaning over him, sword drawn, furiously shouting into his ear. The main door to the room was open, but to my surprise there were only three soldiers - dressed in the dark blue livery of the Surrey army - doubtless men of Sigweard's personal retinue.

"The guards are nervous," I whispered to Cedric. "Their treason rests uneasily on their minds."

He nodded.

"We should take them first," he replied quietly.

"Agreed," I responded. "I can shoot the two by the door, you take the third."

Cedric gave a look of surprise, but nodded. I fitted an arrow to my bow.

"Ready?" he asked. "1... 2... 3..."

In a flash we had burst through the secret door. My first bolt hit the furthest guard in the neck and he fell immediately to the ground. As quickly as I could, I let fly the second - it found its mark, and the screaming soldier fled out of the open door, clutching his eye. I turned around - the third man was lying dead at Cedric's feet.

"Lord Sigweard," said my father rising to his feet, an obvious satisfaction in his voice, "how quickly the tables turn."

The king picked up the parchment from his writing desk and ripped it lengthwise in two. Sigweard stared at us dumbfounded - suddenly he was the one alone.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Cedric moving towards the main door, ready to block off the escape. Instinctively I drew another arrow and set it to my bow.

"Have you nothing to say?" taunted my father, reaching for his sword. "Where are your Viking comrades now, Lord Sigweard? Why do they not stand with you? Do they mock you behind your back?"

But the traitor had not heard him. He was standing, white as a sheet, finger pointing to the weapon that Cedric brandished.

"My son's sword - that is my son's sword! What have you done with him? Where is he? He is dead? You have killed my son?" His voice trembled with shock and rage.

There was a split-second pause. Sigweard charged, flying towards Cedric, his weapon raised. The traitor was quick, but my father was quicker. In a flash, the king leapt forwards, striking upward with the point of his blade and driving it into the the earl's flank.

For a moment it seemed as if he hovered, frozen in time, then with a final howl of anguish the traitor's lifeless body crashed to the ground in front of Cedric.

Silence rang out across the bedchamber.

"Your majesty," said Cedric, bowing low, "you have saved my life!"

"And you, Cedric of Chertsey, have saved mine," replied the king.

The two men stood, looking at one another. A moment of respect passed between the two.

"Father, the Vikings control the castle," I said quickly. "Your guards are dead or captured - we must leave, make good our escape - there is no time to lose!"

My father was staring intensely at Cedric; it was as if he had not heard me.

"We will go north to Mercia," interrupted my mother, emerging from her hiding place behind the bed. "King Beohred will offer us protection."

I turned towards her - I had not even seen her.

Cedric shook his head.

"The Vikings are along the Great River, your majesty," he replied. "By now they will have Southwark, maybe Kingston - certainly Chertsey. We cannot make it to Lundenwick - and if we do, there will be no sanctuary there."

The queen shot the Benedictine a look of distain and turned to me, rage welling up in her eyes.

"This is all your fault," she barked, jabbing an accusatory finger at me. "If you had agreed to marry Alfred of Wessex, none of this would never have happened."

I stared back at her - truly she had gone mad. But this was typical of her - when events ran out of her control, she would instantly turn to pin the blame.

"Hold your tongue woman!" snapped Cedric, a look of utter contempt in his eyes. He turned back to my father. "Your majesty - we must flee."

"How dare he speak to me like that," my mother shrieked. "Will you stand for this?" she demanded of my father. "No Queen of Surrey will be treated in this way. Call the guards - have him arrested!"

"We will go south," the king said firmly, ignoring his wife. "We will go south to Bonham Castle. We shall take the Roman Road to the Misty River. We will destroy the bridge behind us - it will buy us the time to gather our forces."

"We will ride?" Cedric asked quickly.

My father pointed to the secret door. "There is a hidden passage, we will follow it to the river. The horses are stabled there."

There was shouting coming from the main stairwell - first one or two, but then five or more - Viking voices bellowing for Sigweard and Sigbehrt. Cedric turned and slammed the door shut.

"We should barricade it," I said to Cedric as my parents turned to dress. He nodded and together we dragged the furniture against the door - it would hold for long enough for us to make our escape.

In the dim light of three oil lamps, we made our way down the secret stairs, the sounds of Viking fury echoing around us. We passed the entrance to my bedchamber - the attackers were clearly inside, screaming and yelling as they ripped my room apart, trying to find my hiding place.

I wanted to reach out to take Cedric's hand for reassurance, but I did not dare. I kept my head lowered, focused on one step at a time, letting the angry tongues fly over my head. Down we climbed, into the bowels of the earth, to the secret passageways beneath the castle courtyard. This was where my sister and I had played our childhood games of hide-and-seek - such innocent times, now so long ago.

I'm not sure when it was decided that Cedric would accompany us to Bonham Castle. Perhaps it was always assumed that he would ride with us, from the moment the king decided to flee. There was nothing surprising about the sight of him mounted on a horse beside mine. His smile reassured me as we set off and clattered southwards along the old Roman Road. The ride would be long, but with Cedric beside me, I had nothing to fear.