The Eaorl (The Casere Book 2)

THE EAORL

“War never takes a wicked man by chance;
the good man always.”
Sophocles

Book 2 of “The Casere”

By

Michael O’Neill

thecasere.wordpress.com

For contact information, maps, family trees and extra ‘stuff’

© 2014, Michael O’Neill

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

Cover art by Darko Tomic.

All rights reserved.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Culture and society are bound into concepts embedded in language and to create something of a framework, the historic language that provided inspiration for words for this world is Anglo-Saxon, and the source of some of the words is the eBook “A Concise Anglo-Saxon Dictionary; For the Use of Students” by J. R. Clark.

People names are Anglo Saxon or Viking in origin, and are inspired by names generated by the website www.gamedecor.com; there are a lot of names in the four books (and the thousand years of genealogy) and I’m truly grateful for its existence.

Place names are also inspired by history and positioned into time and space of my own imagination. A wonderful resource is the maps created by Thomas Lessman at www.worldhistorymaps.info. Again, thank you.

DEDICATION

For Di and Hollie with much love. Your support is treasured.

And A; thank you for your input and guidance. Very much appreciated.

And to those that read ‘The Aebeling’, and wrote kinds things.

I thank you for the encouragement and for caring what happens “next”.

I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

GLOSSARY

I have used Anglo Saxon and Old English words within the text instead of using modern words. The words are genuine and can be found here:
http://hord.ca/projects/eow/
or here:
http://bosworth.ff.cuni.cz/

• ~cuman = Come, go, happen
  
• Æþeling = Aebeling – Prince
  
• An, Twa, Prie = One, two three
  
• Bedda – from ge-bedda, a bed fellow, consort
  
• Bocere = Scribe, writer, scholar
  
• Cirice = church
  
• Folctoga = commander of leader
  
• Folgere = follower, disciple
  
• Feorhhyrde = Life guardian, protector
  
• Feorrancund = having a distant origin
  
• Friman = Freeman, Ceorl, (the class above Tilia and below Thane)
  
• Fryd = army
  
• Gyden = goddess
  
• Healdend = one who rules, guardian (King)
  
• Tilia = cultivator of land, villein
  
• Theow -> þeów = a servant, slave, thrall
  
• Wealdend = controller, master (Queen)
  
• Wiga, folcwiga = warrior
  

The arrival out of nowhere of the wiga Conn il Taransay caused no little bemusement amongst the Twacuman (the second born of all peoples) in the lands called Halani, but they quickly become accustomed to his presence. After all, they were indebted to him because he saved the life of their princess, and only heir to her grandmother Brina, Wealdend (Queen) of Halani. What probably caused them more confusion was his ability to understand the spoken language of the Twacuman – it was considered a gift from the Gyden (Goddesses), and last one so gifted had died hundreds of years previously. The ability to understand all language without the need to be able to speak it was given to all people in Meshech by the Gyden – but never the ability to understand the language of the Twacuman – they spoke one of the Priecuman (the third born) languages to be understood. Strangely, the Gyden were unusually silent on his presence; as was the child that he had with one of the Twacuman – Priecuman were not supposed to be able to impregnate a Twacuman.

Of course, the confusion he caused amongst the Twacuman was nothing like what he caused amongst the Priecuman nobles after he moved from Halani to Lykia. After purchasing a few demesnes, he was soon the most powerful noble in Lykia – amassing land, power, wealth – and children – at an unfathomable rate. Then again, he knows a lot of things that they don’t.

Along the way he was able to significantly annoy the Rakians kingdom in the south – and their secretive Ancuman (first born) allies – to the extent that they – unsuccessfully – tried to have him killed. He was also known to get rid of people – by whatever means – who go in his way, until Lykia was pretty much running how he wanted it to.

Moving east to Moetia, he successfully unsettles everyone, upset the visiting Aebeling (Prince) of Rakia and manoeuvred to have the vacant position of Aebeling of Lykia filled with a person of his choice. Not content to rest on his laurels, Conn then decided to assist the Wealdend of Trokia far to the east because she and her demesne were being attacked by Gatina and their Rakian (and Ancuman) allies. Because of his meddling, he has been singularly successful in getting the Ancuman Gyden to hate him intensely – and one never knows what can happen to you if you
really
upset a Gyden.

He particularly upsets her when he steals one of her children – a wiga princess – who he makes his slave. It was an accident – she started the fight – he finished it.

In order to help Trokia, Conn needs to pass through Kania and the ruler of Kania is a stooge of Rakia and is intent on stopping Conn at any cost – including raising an army of three thousand to stand in his way. Not to put off by trifles such as a three to one disadvantage, Conn first invades Kania and steals the daughter of the brother of the Aebeling – a man currently in exile, and readies his army to invade Kania. Nothing is ever as easy as it seems.

It was now late autumn in the year 867 – just 867 years since the great flood that set back civilization hundreds of years and from which they measured their survival, and just six years since Conn il Taransay first “arrived” in Halani – and it could be argued about which one had had the biggest impact on the planet! Having arrived in Moetia in the summer, it was now autumn and he was returning to the town after a fortuitous trip to the neighboring but generally hostile demesne of Kania, where he had taken the rebel Aebeling of Kania’s daughter hostage.

As they rode through the guard house of Moesiak, it was pouring rain. Conn identified himself to the guards, and, with the gates open, they continued their way to the Inn. The cold and somewhat unseasonal heavy rain had made the trip from Shekem in Kania to Moetiak take much longer than it should, and as uncomfortable asit was for the riders, it would have been much more uncomfortable for those gathering in makeshift tents over the border, waiting for him to ‘invade’.

It had taken them longer because they had paused to check the training of Conn’s fyrd, who, despite being relatively small in number, was quickly becoming extremely lethal – due to a combination of the best training, the best horses and the best equipment ever seen in Meshech. Conn’s years of breeding horses and manufacturing and stockpiling weapons and armour was now proving extremely worthwhile.

The mere presence of the fyrd made everyone nervous – including the Healdend of Moetia who had given permission for it to be assembled on his lands. He could do little else now but trust Conn, as there was really nothing he could do about it now anyway. That horse has truly bolted.

Conn had ridden into Moetiak with Derryth il Halani, Halla of Cyme – his theow, his protégé Arlen il Batra, and Brit il Dor – his ‘hostage’. As part of his negotiations with her father, he had requested that Brit become bedda to Arlen once she was sixteen – which would be next spring. It had been amusing to see the tomboy constantly verbally sparing with the young man – as well as see him become smitten with the young firebrand. Sometimes, it wasn’t verbal – Halla had been instructed to train Brit every day for an hour in combat techniques – and as the women of Cyme were considered some of the best fighters – male or female – in all know worlds, it was not long before she was Arlen’s equal. Conn and Derryth trained him as well – so he could stand his ground.

With the horses handed over in the livery, they raced into the Inn that was Conn’s home in the town, and sat by its roaring fires trying to stop shaking. After several tankards of ales and cups of coffee – as well as a hot and delicious stew, they finally felt able to speak. Brit, just fifteen, and who had spent most of her life living in the wilds of Shekem while her father was an exile and a ‘rebel’, was not accustomed to living in a modern town; and she soon started to explore the most modern building she had ever seen. She was fascinated.

Aerlene, Eaorl of Susa, and coincidentally current bedda to Conn, was waiting inside the warm and dry confines of the Inn. She had returned to the town a month earlier when Conn left for Kania so that she could prepare for the birth of her babies – by doing a lot of shopping. Before Conn, Aerlene had been bedda to the last surviving Eaorl of Susa – who, despite several bedda, was unable to sire a surviving child. Aerlene herself had one stillborn and lost another soon after birth, and was very hopeful this time of having healthy babies. The Folgere had told her that the Gyden Badb wanted her to have healthy babies – she was carrying twins, as was typical of Conn and his fathering skills.

Aerlene, was astonished to meet his new companions; Brit il Dor and Derryth il Halani. It had been a long time since she had met a visitor from Halani, and she was truly shocked – especially to see how familiar he and Conn were. She hid her surprise by focusing on Brit. Aerlene pretended to be horrified at the sight of her.

‘This will never do – she hardly looks like a girl! She needs a bath, new clothes, her hair done, makeup… but I do see some promise.’

‘She looks like a girl to me.’ Arlen added hopefully. He was still seriously in her bad books.

‘That just shows what level of taste you have then doesn’t it, war monger.’ Brit responded. The conversation was two weeks old, but she still hadn’t let it go.

After promising the girl that tomorrow they would do more shopping, she was taken to her room and was sent to bed. It had been a long time for Brit to see a bed and mattress, in a building with more luxury than even the Aebeling of Kania, and she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the feather mattress.

After a hot bath, Conn joined Aerlene in bed and held her close; he patted her growing tummy. She scolded him.

‘You lied to me.’

Conn tried to look surprised. Everything about him was a lie.

‘About what exactly...’ He kissed her neck just in case he needed to distract her.

‘About the curse – there is no curse.’

Conn had told her that he was under a Gyden’s curse – which is what he was told by a Folgere – and was the reason why he “almost” always had twins with his bedda. Conn waited for her to continue.

‘Badb told Morna that she doesn’t feel anything about you is cursed. Besides, Morna only had a single child with you.’

‘And what about all my children being girls?’ Well, nearly all. His eldest, Jowan, was a boy, but his mother was a Twacuman which wasn’t normal anyway. He didn’t think that Badb knew about him anyway – not many people did.

Conn was a blank sheet to the Gyden in Meshech – they communicated with their followers by connecting to their auras – as well as minds in the case of the Healdends – but despite the numerous dalliances he had had with the Folgere, priestess of the Gyden, they had yet to “feel” his aura. In the trows of orgasmic bliss in the arms of a sex crazed Folgere, the aura had no protection against the probing of a Gyden – except Conn of course. To their ongoing frustration, he remained impenetrable.

He could communicate via his thoughts with a Gyden – just like the Healdend – but to their even greater annoyance he had the ability to shut them out. He had done so when he returned to Moetiak. He found it extremely annoying to have a “presence” lurking in the back of your head. He was also unusual in that he was the only known person who could communicate with all the different Gyden. He didn’t tell anyone that either. These were questions to which there were no answers.

Aerlene shook her head. ‘Nope – nothing to do with her either. As I said, you fibbed. So maybe I’ll have two boys. Anyway, tell me what you did in Kania…’

Conn told her everything that had happened.

‘And you think it will work? Will Esras turn up?’

‘He has no reason not to.’ He continued to kiss her neck and started to undo her nightgown.

She ignored him ‘And Derryth? Have you warned my brother?’

‘No – should I have?’ Conn lifted the gown off the now naked Aerlene.

She giggled as she drew him close. ‘You are pure evil – you know that?’

~x010~

The next morning, Aerlene arranged to take Brit shopping at sunrise; waking the shopkeeper from his slumber. After returning and changing, Brit joined them as they prepared to leave for the castle. When Arlen saw her, his jaw dropped.

Brit smiled at him for the first time and actually twirled. ‘Much better response; so do you still want to go to war?’

Arlen let that one pass; he knew he was on a hiding to nothing.

Halla was melancholy. ‘You have done well, Aerlene. I remember her mother because she was so very beautiful; it is like looking at her.’

A messenger had been sent to the donjon to request an audience with Driscol, and he arrived back to say that Driscol was waiting for them.

‘Come, the Healdend is waiting. He is not going to have a good day. Everything I do seems to annoy him.’

Aerlene pointed out the obvious. ‘You could have warned him about Derryth…’

Conn smiled mischievously. ‘Why – that would ruin all my fun.’

A short walk from the Inn along the street found them at the donjon, and as they travelled silence surrounded them. People parted and stopped as they saw Conn and Derryth walk together.

Conn looked at the surprise on the faces of the people they passed. It was not fear or distain – it was reverence and astonishment. He looked back at Derryth in confusion.

‘When was the last time the Twacuman visited Moetiak?’

‘Over two hundred years ago I think – my great grandfather’s father was an emissary of Halani and travelled to all the Priecuman towns every now and then. It was not long after that we stopped visiting.’

‘Do we know why?’

Derryth shook his head. ‘If I was Wothbora, I might. But I don’t.’

As they walked into the great hall, the noise level dropped until the only person talking was the Healdend, and that was because he was facing the other way, talking to Bran, his son; who had stopped paying attention and was staring at Conn’s group as they arrived.

Driscol, with the silence noticeable, stopped and turned around. When he saw Derryth, he actually dropped his mug, and then dropped into his chair.

‘Told you’, Conn said to Brit as they walked towards him. ‘He hates surprises’.

Before they got to the Healdend, Ana raced out and jumped into her father’s arms. Giving him a hug, she turned to Derryth. ‘Hello Derryth, My name is Ana. Badb says welcome.’

Derryth almost stumbled, and he looked at her. Conn introduced her and reassured him; ‘Don’t mind her; she has a direct line to Badb.’

‘That may be so, but how does the Gyden Badb know my name?’

When they got to Driscol, his glass had been rescued and refilled. The hall though was still very silent.

‘Healdend, I’d like to introduce Derryth il Halani, and Brit, daughter of Esras, uncle of the current Aebeling of Kania.’

Driscol gathered his wits. ‘When you say current, it brings a bad taste to my mouth, Thane. Welcome back. Life is just so boring when you are not around.’ He commented sarcastically. He looked to Derryth. ‘You honour the house of Moetia by your attendance, Derryth il Halani. It has been a very long time since these halls have been so graced. ‘

Derryth bowed respectfully. ‘Yes, it was my ancestor Wilwar who visited here to meet with his friend Faolan, Healdend of Moetia. The description of this hall has been passed down to me. I see it hasn’t changed much.’

They all laughed at the joke, and Driscol continued. ‘We are doubly honoured then that the scion of the man my family called a friend is here to visit. The records of Faolan have much to say about the visits of the Twacuman. To what do we owe the honour?’

‘Healdend, I am only here because my friend Conn il Haran needed my assistance, and given that interesting things seem to happen around him, I thought I’d tag along for a while. As you say, life can be so boring without him around.’

‘I understand your predicament. Life has not been the same since he arrived in …

Suddenly Derryth grabbed his head, as if struck by an object; Conn leapt to his feet as if to attack an unseen foe but there was nothing around. Conn was about to ask what was wrong as Derryth waved him down.

‘I beg your pardon, Healdend, but it may be that something greater than chance has brought me here. There is something lost in your donjon; and it is calling me. I can’t tell what it is. But it belonged once to one of Halani.’

Everyone looked confused except Anna. The young child walked over to Driscol and held out her arms. He instinctively picked her up. ‘Grandfather, why don’t you show Derryth the medallion that you carry.’

Driscoll looked at Ana in surprise, and putting her down, he reached into his pocket, and retrieved a hide pouch. He handed it to Derryth.

Derryth opened the pouch carefully and removed a medallion from its pouch and he held it in his hand. He sighed. ‘This was given by my ancestor to your ancestor as a sign of true friendship. It is not lost – but why is it in a pouch, in your pocket?’

‘I can’t wear it, it burns my skin; and makes me feel unwell. My father had a red wound on his chest where it lay.’

Derryth looked surprised. ‘Then something or someone has done something that made the relationship between our houses an untruth. A medallion like this will refuse to be worn if a friend becomes a false friend.’

Derryth looked around and he saw Driscol’s grandson, who despite the efforts of Ana was still sickly and in poor health. ‘Your grandson also appears to carry the affliction. Has your house always been sickly?’

Driscol nodded. ‘It has been a hard time for my house to keep heirs. I am the third son, and my father was the fourth son, though we are long lived. Bram’, he pointed to his son ‘had three elder brothers die, and I only have one grandson, Alduini.’

He sat down, and Ana sat on his lap. ‘But it is not possible – my father and his fathers before him have always considered those of Halani in the highest esteem. It is not possible that they dishonoured the pledge.’

Ana whispered in his ear.

‘But it’s not possible.’ he repeated. Driscol looked quite stressed now, and under pressure. Ana whispered again, and he sat with his eyes closed, with her on his lap.

Ana must have told him to open his mind fully, giving Badb open access, and after about five minutes, he opened his eyes, and there were tears on his face. He wiped them off.