Warrior Princess

The dust was clearing around the main ambush. The Wessex detachment was returning to the shelter of the trees, bringing the captured horses back with them. Behind them the bodies of the Surrey rebels were strewn across the ground. I felt my stomach turn over as I picked out their shields - these were young men - no more than five years older than me. Most I'd grown up with - I knew them all from my father's court - I'd even danced with some. But Alfred's strike had been clinical - he had made them pay for their treachery.

There was another blast from the trumpet - a shorter one this time - a warning note to gain our attention. The kings' attack had worked - Viking men were streaming southwards, running in fear of their lives. I watched as the leaders reached the fallen Surrey traitors. They stopped, bewildered by the scene in front of them - that was our cue. Again we archers stood as one and fired volley after volley of arrows, scattering the invaders as more poured through the narrow pass onto the plain. They were pinned in place - ripe for the taking - Alfred's men would cut them down. I watched the Wessex warriors ride out from the cover beneath us, a euphoric confidence rising within me. Was this too easy?

But what was this, charging towards us, sending up a great dust cloud at the south of the plain? My stomach turned over - it was the Sussex Army - heading to engage us. My heart sank. This was what Alfred had been hoping to avoid - now he'd be fighting on two fronts - caught in the middle between his enemies.

With a crash the three armies came together. I saw Alfred's standard charging boldly towards the King of Sussex and with that, he was hidden from view by the dust.

Hour after hour the warriors clashed, spilling the blood of those who opposed them. Heart in my mouth, I watched each time Alfred rode out, anxiously awaiting his return as others took his place on the front line. A steady stream of casualties was ferried from the fighting, most limping, some stretchered, carried past our position and up to the infirmary. I wondered if I should go to help the nurses, but then I would see the prince riding back into battle and I was glued to my post once more.

It was noon when King Oslac made his final charge, thundering towards where Alfred and his men were in the thick of the battle. They were off their horses now, fighting sword-to-sword, man-to-man - this was going to be brutal. I couldn't watch - I buried my head in my hands and prayed.

A cheer erupted from the archers either side of me. I looked up in disbelief. Alfred was returning from the battlefield, holding the flag of Sussex triumphantly in his hands. Behind him King Oslac was sprawled on his back, left for dead by his fleeing supporters.

Overcome by relief and giddy with excitement, I ran downhill to where Alfred's army had gathered, ready to congratulate my prince. But as I reached the bottom, I saw him hand the Sussex standard to a page, leap onto a horse and charge off in pursuit of those retreating.

Impulsively I grabbed the reigns of the nearest mount and leapt on top of it. A groom saw me and shouted for me to stop, but I ignored him. I wanted to be with Alfred, to be alongside him as the final victory was won - to prove to him and to my father that the Princess of Surrey was a worthy warrior.

Impetuosly, I dug my heels into the horse's side and galloped across the battlefield. To my left, the Vikings were battling hard against the united army of the two kings; to my right, the Earls of Lewes and Portslade were leading the Sussex army in full retreat. But Alfred was ahead of me, chasing eastwards into the dark forest of the Holmwood.

Rashly, I pushed caution to the side and steered my horse into the trees. Above me the branches grew close, blotting out the light of the sun as the undergrowth became thicker and thicker. By now, I'd lost sight of the prince, riding was now impossible - any further and I would have to go on foot. I tethered the horse to a tree and set determinedly forwards, tripping over roots and dodging branches as I ran to follow my man.

The sky was appearing above me again as the trees gave way to a large circular clearing. For a moment I paused, staring closely at each of the tracks through the grass, wondering which Alfred had chosen.

Suddenly, I felt a cold shadow on my back. An arm reached around my body from behind and the cold steel of a long-bladed dagger pressed tightly against my throat.

"Ah, my lady, how nice of you to join me! What a shame our last meeting was so abruptly curtailed."

I knew that voice too well - Sigbehrt.

"Let go of me!" I yelled, struggling against him. "Alfred! Alfred!"

"That's right - call for your prince - why not? Scream for your life! Bring him to me, so I can kill him!" Sigbehrt cawed.

I tried to wriggle free from his grasp, but it was hopeless. I closed my eyes in despair - this was my fault - I'd put Alfred's victory and my own life at risk - all because of my foolishness.

"Your fight is not with the princess," said a voice behind us. "Let her go - I am the one you want."

Roughly Sigbehrt spun round, dragging me with him. Alfred was standing there alone, sword in hand.

"The King of Sussex died an honourable death - a warrior's death," the prince taunted. "And you, Sigbehrt, Thane of Chertsey, would cower behind a woman to protect your skin?"

My captor was getting angry, but still he held me tightly.

"How dare you insult me, scum of Wessex!" he spat.

He began to back us away towards the edge of the clearing.

"If you follow me, I will kill her!"

"So you would take your chance in the forest?" Alfred goaded. "The brave men of the Holmwood would tear you limb from limb - surely you would not risk it?"

"The brave men?" Sigbehrt mocked. "The brave men? The men of the Holmwood are not brave! They are slow and stupid. Their spears are no match for a warrior's armour and I will break their clubs with my sword. They fear me - I do not fear them!"

A smile broke across Alfred's face.

"They are braver men than you, Sigbehrt, Thane of Chertsey. Tell me - what were you doing when your father needed you - when he was holding a dagger to King Frithwald's throat?"

I felt Sigbehrt make the slightest hesitation.

"You were meant to be directing the Vikings," continued Alfred mockingly. "You were meant to show them the way. How many men were you meant to bring? You were not there when your father forced the king to abdicate! Where were you Sigbehrt, Thane of Chertsey? Where were you when your father needed you?"

Sigbehrt let out a growl of frustration, pressing the point of his dagger more firmly against my neck.

"You were in my lady's bedchamber," continued Alfred, a look of disgust across his face. "You could not wait! You meant to rape her while your father sealed your marriage in the room above - such loyalty you showed him!"

"What do you know of my father?" demanded Sigbehrt.

The prince smiled.

"I know your father too well - I watched him for a year - watched his lust for power as it poisoned him, watched his greed as it ate him from inside. I saw his treachery at work, watched as he hatched his plan, betrayed this land to the Vikings. It was a brilliant scheme - there was only one flaw..." Alfred pointed directly at Sigbehrt. "You!"

Sigbehrt twisted as if hit by an invisible blow; Alfred took a step towards us, sword raised.

"Your father did not trust you," the prince continued. "He knew you would abandon him - that your carnal lusts would get the better of you. He needed something to fall back on, a scapegoat to blame, an easy neck to snap.

"He thought a Benedictine would be perfect - that's why he took Cedric - that's why he took him to Morden Castle.

"But Cedric was not the person you thought he was - Cedric was no novice," Alfred paused for effect. "Cedric was me!"

"You?" snarled Sigbehrt in disbelief.

"I was the one who waited on the bridge, who sent the fireboats against the longship, who brought my men to Morden Castle to buy the loyal Surrey guards more time. I was the one who freed the princess and laid you out cold on her bedchamber floor. Yes - I was the one who rescued King Frithwald and the queen from your father's sword."

"You?" gasped Sigbehrt again, his body beginning to shake.

"It is curious," said Alfred, a little flippantly. "That was what your father said, just before I watched him die!"

Sigbehrt roared with anger and flung me to the side. He ran forwards, charging at the prince with his sword raised.

But Alfred was ready for him. The two blades met with almighty clash, flashes of metal catching the sunlight as they fought, blow after blow. Easily the prince had the upper hand - younger, fitter, taller, he danced around Sigbehrt, taunting him all the while as his foe's face grew redder and redder.

Sigbehrt charged again, but Alfred sidestepped, watching as the thane tumbled forwards onto the ground, losing his weapon as he did so. Calmly the prince reached down and picked up his opponent's sword, waiting chivalrously for him to regain his feet.

I saw Sigbehrt's eyes dart around, appraising the situation. The clearing was empty - just the three of us - Alfred, him and me.

Then he ran, sprinting forwards at full pelt, disappearing into the trees. Alfred watched and shook his head, as if deciding he was not worth following. He turned and looked at me, concern in his eyes.

"You are hurt?" he asked.

I shook my head. I rushed forwards and embraced him.

Over Alfred's shoulder I caught the flash of steel charging towards us - Sigbehrt - with a dagger raised high above his head.

"Look out!" I screamed.

Alfred spun round. His sword lifted high. Cleanly the blade sliced through Sigbehrt's neck as the traitor lunged forwards. There was a final gasp and the severed head fell to the ground. It rolled away from us across the grass, the face a twisted grimace of horrified surprise, the lifeless eyes staring out in permanent defeat.

Silence thundered through the clearing.

"He is gone," said Alfred quietly. "The treachery is ended."

There was a shout from the edge of the clearing, "My lord, my lord, you are not harmed?"

The two of us turned; Wilfred of Romsey was running towards us at full pelt, closely followed by two other soldiers, dressed in the scarlet livery of the Wessex army.

"We have another body," Alfred said calmly, pointing to Sigbehrt's corpse. "We should keep the head - the people must know that the traitor is dead."

The three men set to work on the torso, stripping it of armour and weapons.

Alfred turned back to me with a smile.

"And now," he said, "I think it is time."

Hanging by his side was a hunting horn, secured to his belt with a strap of leather - I had seen it that morning as we prepared for battle, but had thought nothing of it. He raised it to his lips and blew a single, deep blast, that rung through the forest, shaking the trees around us.

For a long moment nothing happened - nothing moved. Silence hovered above the clearing.

Then, as one, the trees began to sway, the branches began to rock and the rustle of the undergrowth grew louder and louder until, all around us, five hundred men stepped in unison into the light.

Alfred took a step forward.

"Brave Men of the Holmwood," he cried, addressing those around him. "The hour has come - the traitor is dead - will you join with King Frithwald and rid this realm of the Vikings?"

A cheer rang out - each man shaking his spear above his head in vigorous agreement.

"Then I call on you now - defend this land from those who would take it - bring peace to your children and grandchildren - fight to protect those you love!"

Another roar of approval rang out.

Alfred turned back to face us; Wilfred was looking up at him in confusion.

"My Lord, we do not need these men. The fight is won - the victory is ours!" the lieutenant protested.

"Aye Wilfred," the prince replied. "We do not need them to win the battle, but we will need them to win the peace!"

In that moment I knew I loved him - saw in his deep blue eyes his wisdom, his compassion, his love for all the peoples of our islands.

And all around the clearing, the battle cries of the Men of the Holmwood rang loud - their blood was up, they were ready for war - they would follow the prince anywhere!

Alfred lifted the leather strap from around his neck and pressed the horn into Wilfred's reluctant hands.

"My lord, w-w-what are you doing?" he protested.

"Take it Wilfred! You lead the charge; they will follow the sound. Attack the Vikings from the south!"

"Yes my lord," Wilfred replied, giving a slight bow.

"I will circle to the north, to join my father and King Frithwald. Now go! Go!" He pointed through the trees in the direction of the battlefield.

Wilfred put the horn to his lips. He blew a long blast and began to run.

I stood with Alfred as the fighters surged forwards, the sound of their battle cries ringing in my ears. Warrior after warrior streamed past until the final one had disappeared.

Then there was silence again.

Alfred turned. I followed his gaze.

Standing at the other end of the clearing was the hermit, dressed in his robes of grey, holding his wooden staff.

The prince raised his hand in solemn greeting. The old man smiled, gave a low bow and melted back into the forest.

"Did he know?" I asked.

"Know what?" Alfred asked, a little mischievously.

"Who you were? Who you are? Did he know you were a Prince of Wessex?"

"He did," Alfred replied.

I looked at him pointedly.

"He told me that a prince would come from a far-away land," I said quietly. "He was right - he could see the future in that pool!"

"It is very easy to predict the future, if it is already in the past," Alfred laughed. "I am sorry to say it - but I told him who I was. I sent him back to his people, to ready them for the fight."

Of course he had - Alfred had been in control all along - why could I think otherwise?

"He said you would be a great king," I said slowly.

The prince gave a derisive snort. "My brother Aethelstan will succeed my father - he is the elder by five years. I will be never King of Wessex."

I said no more. The hermit had made one other prophesy, but now was not the time to reveal it.

Alfred glanced down for the final time at the headless torso of Sigbehrt.

"He will trouble this land no more," he said simply.

The two of us turned and walked steadily back through the woodland, to the place where I'd stabled my horse. Above us the sun was filtering through the branches and the birds had started to sing again. The traitors' curse was lifting - Mother Nature was blessing the kingdom once more.

We paused at the edge of the trees, half concealed by the foliage, watching as the rabble of Holmwood men hurtled towards the exhausted army of Vikings.

"They will tell great stories of this day," said Alfred quietly. "Their children and grandchildren will hear how they fought for King Frithwald."

In the far distance a single rider was approaching us on horseback.

"It is Alaric of Dibden," said Alfred. "You must go with him. He will take you to the infirmary. Many men will be injured - you must help where you can."

I looked up at him anxiously. "And you? Where will you go?"

"I must go to my father. We must end it now."

"I will do as you ask," I replied reluctantly. I could scarcely bear to be parted from the prince.

We walked back to my horse and I prepared to untie its reins.

I turned to face him, my heart full of regret - I had put him in danger - I had made him fight Sigbehrt for my life.

"Alfred," I began, "I am sorry, I..."

But the prince was too quick for me. Gently he placed a finger on my lips to silence me, then tenderly, so very tenderly he bent his head towards mine and kissed me. His strong arms closed around me and pulled me softly into his chest. I squeezed him closer, crushing him against me, feeling the firmness of his armour against the soft linen of my uniform. He cradled my face in his hands and again his lips met mine, our tongues gently caressing one another in our first declaration of love.

Panting we broke apart, staring deep into each other's eyes. We could hear hooves approaching now. Frantically we kissed once more. Then in one smooth single motion, Alfred lifted me onto my horse and led it out of the trees.

Alaric of Dibden stopped before us, awaiting his instructions.

Alfred looked me straight in the eyes.

"Go with him!" he said. "Go!"

-

I'd expected a scene of utter chaos when I reached the infirmary tent, but to my surprise the small team of nurses was well organised and was processing the casualties as quickly as they arrived. Most were only lightly injured - cuts and bruises, which I could help to bandage, but a few had more serious wounds that required the attention of those who knew what they were doing.

By late afternoon, there was little more I could do, and I was considering finding a quiet corner where I could rest my feet, when the messenger arrived.

"My lord Alfred of Wessex requests you attend him most urgently, my lady," explained the page.

A flash of panic ran through me.

"Is he injured, has he fallen?" I asked anxiously.

The young lad smiled.

"No, my lady. He wishes to thank you for your service."

Intrigued I followed him back down the Green Mountain towards the battlefield, unsure what I would find when I got there. As we descended towards the plain, we could see the victors' armies, standing together in a big circle - almost a thousand men together. My father's standard was fluttering in the breeze alongside the flags of Wessex.

"You should join them, my lady," said the messenger, gesturing to the assembled company.

There was space enough between the lines of men to let me push through to the front of the formation - those either side of me gave way as they realised who I was.

The Kings of Surrey and Wessex were seated on thrones at one side of the circle.

Standing next to them was one of the captains from the Wessex army. He was reading aloud from a list, calling his men one-by-one to receive honour and thanks from the two monarchs. Archers and foot soldiers were each given a coin, but those in higher ranks were receiving titles and land. Each commander took their turn, bringing forward those under their command who had distinguished themselves in battle, before kneeling in front of Aethelwulf and my father for their own reward.

Alfred was called. I listened and watched as each of his men approached the kings in turn - many I recognised from the camp, but a few I did not. Alaric of Dibden was given a manor in Wiltshire and Wilfred of Romsey new lands in Berkshire.

"Your majesties," called the prince in a loud, clear voice. "I present Princess Elspeth of Surrey."

My eyes widened in surprise as all around me the soldiers burst into applause. Alfred smiled and motioned me forwards. Bewildered I approached the thrones and prepared to kneel, but as I did so, King Aethelwulf rose from his feet and placed his hands on my upper arms.

"My lady," he said with a kindly smile, "a Princess of Surrey should not kneel before a King of Wessex."

A page stepped forward, carrying a scarlet cushion, edged with gold. There was something resting on it - a necklace. Delicately the king picked it up. I could see it clearly now, a gold chain with a square medallion - a red enamelled design, bearing the golden lion of Wessex.

"My lady, you are born to serve your father, but I thank you for your service to my people. Know that as you wear this pendant that you will always find friends in the House of Wessex."

I lowered my head and the king placed the chain around my neck, fastening it behind me.

Thunderous applause rang out around me. I curtsied low and looked first to my father and then to Alfred. Both men were smiling back, faces beaming with pride - my heart leapt.