0 comments/ 13267 views/ 2 favorites Athelstan's Mercy By: smilodonwriter I, Rhodri of Kernow, write this in remembrance of my patron, Bishop Asser. The good man loved the House of Wessex all his days and was friend and confidant to Ælfred, whom men now call the Great. Our King now is Athelstan, may The Good Lord and the Saints keep him, and Bishop Asser would have been full of joy to see it. For surely there can have been few Kings his equal. Even Great Ælfred had faults that none could overlook. Athelstan is a man without peer. His appearance and demeanour are all regal and he has the love of all his people like none before him. Lest I be accused of courting favour, let it be known that I am a Briton of the West, not a Saxon. I have no great love for the people who stole our land these many years past. Nonetheless, I own Athelstan as my King. I recall the King as a boy at his grandfather's knee. I had him in my charge for lessons. He was a beautiful child with hair like gold and eyes the grey of the winter sea. I remember him being sent into Mercia for protection. Many thought his father, the late King, sought his death from jealousy but I know not. Now that Edward is dead he does not want for detractors. Just this past year King Athelstan came here to Mældubesburg. Although many years have passed, he knew me still and cried aloud for joy at seeing his old teacher. He has grown into a handsome man with flaxen hair - still shot through with the gold of his childhood. Although not much above middling height, his presence fills any room. He is soft-spoken, for a Saxon. This tale I now recount was told to me by old Hereward of Middletun. He is nearly four score years now but still has a silver tongue when he minds to use it. I have had this story, too, from other men. It is so true of the King that no man should doubt it. I say this, even if it be a sin; it is good to write of the matters of men once in a while. May God forgive me, but the Lives of saints can be tedious work for the son of a bard! Rhodri op Kernow In the Year of Grace Nine Hundred and Thirty One Author's Note Athelstan is perhaps the most obscure of the old Saxon Kings. Even his origins are shrouded in mystery. He was the son of Edward the Elder, grandson of Ælfred the Great but his mother's identity is not known. She is described simply as a 'woman of Mercia'. The implication is clearly that she was not of any special significance and she died soon after Athelstan's birth. There is a tradition that Ælfred intended Athelstan as his heir but the boy was only six years old when Ælfred died. Edward married after Athelstan's birth and produced a number of legitimate children. All of these were still minors at the time of Edward's death in 924 AD. Athelstan was elected King with the help of considerable Mercian support. He had been raised in Mercia following an attempt to blind him as a child and his Mercian mother ensured his popularity in that country. Athelstan never married and, as far as we know, remained deliberately celibate to ensure that there was no dispute over the succession after his death. We are told that he only agreed to become King on the understanding that he was seen as holding the Country upon trust for his half-brothers, Edward's legitimate heirs. We cannot judge how true this is but it is clear that the succession was undisputed on his death and this was remarkable in Saxon times. During his reign, he achieved total dominance over all of Britain. Both the Scots and Welsh Kings acknowledged him as overlord. There were still challenges to face in the shape of Scandinavian invaders but Athelstan went to great lengths to ensure that the Danelaw was fully integrated into the Kingdom and his Danish subjects fought at his side. * * * * * Athelstan's abhorrence of the death penalty is well recorded. One of the last of his laws passed before his death in 940 AD specifically forbade the execution of anyone under the age of sixteen. He also freely pardoned any criminals that repented and showed themselves willing to make amends. One very unusual aspect of his reign was his habit of moving the King's Court around the Country. He held meetings as far apart as Exeter and York and does not seem to have held Court in the same town any two years running. Finally, a word about place names: Mældubesburg is Malmesbury, where Athelstan is buried. Grantanbrycg is modern day Cambridge and Colneceaster is Colchester in Essex. Athelstan is, of course, an historical character. All the rest, and this entire story, are my own imaginings Athelstan's Mercy * * * * * "My mother's name-day came and Aske and Siggerith arrived at our farm. The adults were soon chatting as old friends do and I was told to take Siggerith out to the barn to show her a newborn calf. I did so gladly but was still shy in her company. She was easy with me, though, and it wasn't too long before we were playing together as if we had been friends all our lives. I took her down to the woods to show her a squirrel's drey and we watched the tiny red kittens take their first steps along the branches. I can remember the mother squirrel scolding them when they failed to follow her. She was chattering away like an old fishwife and it made us laugh. "Have you noticed, sir, that when you share laughter with someone, it sort of brings you closer together? I think it does anyway. Well, that's how it started. After that I was always looking for an excuse to go the Grantanbrycg and Siggerith found reasons to visit the farm. Our parents never said anything at the time but we learned that they were pleased. This was what they had all hoped for but had left it up to the two of us. Well, sir, as you know, things start to change soon after the age of ten. It happened with Siggerith first. I used to tease her that her bum was spreading and soon she was more woman than girl, if you know what I mean. For a little while we grew apart a bit. I was still a child and she was something more; but I grew to match her and we began to see each other differently." Hereward realised that the boy was no longer talking to him but simply remembering out loud. He stopped making any replies and watched Thori's eyes. They were open but did not see the crude surroundings or the rough stone walls. They were focussed on an earlier, happier time. Hereward knew the boy spoke from the heart. There was much in Thori's tale that reminded him of his own youth and wooing of Elfgirda. 'I see no falsehood in this lad,' he thought. 'If the rest of the tale's as true, we will yet serve the King's justice.' Thori, for his part, was unaware of the old Saxon's scrutiny. He was lost in memory, bittersweet though it was. "By the time we were both fourteen, we had an understanding. Siggerith was still more forward in certain ways than I was. I was almost more interested in my weapon training than I was in women. It struck me odd that she would want to kiss and touch as much as she did. I found it pleasant enough but it stirred strange feelings in me that I couldn't put a name to at the time. I found these feelings a bit disturbing, frightening maybe. Of course I knew how mating happened. I'm a farm boy. I'd led the bull to the heifers often enough. Somehow I didn't connect any of that with the way I was feeling; at least not at first. "One day we were out gathering blackberries for my mother and stopped in the woods to rest a while. Like always at those times, Siggerith would slide over and sit beside me, her head on my shoulder. This time, when she kissed me, it was full on the mouth and her tongue pressed against my mouth and slipped between my lips. She was most fierce in her kissing then and I, still much of a boy, knew not how to act. She took my hand and put it on her breast and made a small noise, deep in her throat. I found myself getting hard then, like I do sometimes at night, and the feel of her breast and the touch of her lips was driving me mad. I had the urge to do something else but didn't know what. Siggerith did, though; she unlaced her bodice and pushed my hand inside so now I could feel her breast against my palm, with no clothing in between. "In all my life I never felt anything so perfect. It was like magic. It was soft and warm and yet firm at the same time. Her little nubs grew hard under my touch and I divined that this was the centre of her pleasure for she grew wilder when I rubbed them. I swear I could have died for joy right there. She filled me up. I can't say it better. I thought my soul had flown away to heaven. "I must have been like a mooncalf to her for all I could do was grasp her and swear I loved her. My tool was fit to burst my breechs, and I was amazed when she seized me there and I think I groaned aloud. Before I knew it, my breechs were down and she was stroking me. It was only a few brief moments before I spent myself. This seemed to please her mightily and she said it was enough for the nonce but she would show me true happiness once we were wed. I tell you, Lord, that I don't think I could have been more happy then at that moment. I bent and kissed her breasts but she stopped me after a brief time and said that we should return to our blackberrying. "After that, we would contrive to repeat the adventure whenever we had the chance. Once she took me in her mouth and jumped away in surprise when I spurted. My seed was in her hair and on her face but she just laughed and said and she needed to practice. Once she let me touch her sex and shuddered and moaned and carried on so that I thought I had hurt her. Again she laughed at my discomfort and bade me wait 'til we were wed so she could show me all her mysteries. One thing I swear by the Blessed Virgin, all the Saints and the honour of my kin, Lord. In all our time together she remained a maiden. I loved her far to much to do her any dishonour." Hereward watched as Thori's mind slowly returned to the present. There were tears in the boy's eyes and he turned his face away to hide his shame. Hereward sighed. "Don't fret, lad, it's clear you loved her deeply. There is no shame in such sorrow." He paused. "Now tell me how she came to die." "As I told the King, Lord, we were betrothed at the New Year. We Danes still believe that this is a lucky time, but it wasn't for us. Soon after, Aske died and Siggerith came to live under our roof. Of course, she was much saddened by her father's death but found respite with my family. She had never known her mother well and she and my mother grew close, as women will. "One day, at the end of the third month, she went into the Burgh to take a basket of eggs to the market. She left as soon as it was light. It's not far from our farm to Grantanbrycg so she planned to be there for the market's opening. Most times my mother went; but she was helping my father and I with the lambing that day so Siggerith went in her stead. We were busy all day with a difficult ewe and did not notice that Siggerith had not returned until late afternoon. I set off to meet her. I was sure she would be on her way back by then. I suppose we thought that the market had been slow for most times we would have sold the eggs by noon. "Anyway, I found her just as the road entered the woods on the Grantanbrycg side. She was lying beside the track. Two men were bent over her. I ran up and they jumped away from her. There was an arrow in her neck and she was dead. The men began to tell me that it was an accident. They said they had shot at a hare and, by great mischance, Siggerith stepped into the arrow's path. I've spent my life in those parts, sir, but I've never seen a hare in woodland. Oh, there are hares a-plenty in the fields but none in the woods that I know. I was too shocked to think such at the time, you understand. This came to me later, after we had borne her body home. "I went to fetch a priest while my mother prepared her body for the winding sheet. It was my mother who discovered the blood on her thighs. At first she thought it was just Eve's curse but then she saw that Siggerith was torn and bruised. It was clear as daylight, sir, my mother said, that Siggerith had been ill-used. There was more. When the arrow was withdrawn, you could see it was old and the shaft was warped. What hunter would use such? And the wound, sir, it was not a hole, such as an arrow might make but thinner, longer. My father swears it was a dagger thrust that caused it. We went to the Thegn next day and told him all. He waved us away. "I brooded on these things for some days and decided I would have things out with the men who killed her. I took my father's long knife, we don't own a proper sword, sir, and went to Grantanbrycg. It was late in the day when I found them. I demanded the truth of her death but they laughed at me. I said I knew they had raped and murdered my Siggerith and told they would die for it. They spat in my face and called me 'Danish filth'. One said I should ever regret not having had such a tasty morsel for myself. I pulled out my knife and we fought. They must have thought me just a farm boy for one cried to the other "You take him." I am a warrior, sir and the son of warriors. I was taught well; better than them, as it turned out. "I killed him then. It was done too quick for my heart but it was done. I fought the other. He, too, I killed. At first I rejoiced; but it didn't bring Siggerith back. The Thegn's men took me then. They gave out that I had crept into the hall and slain the men in their sleep. Next they claimed that I had been following the blood feud. They branded me a coward and brought me before the Court. The rest you know, sir." Hereward nodded. He had much to think about. He didn't doubt a word of Thori's story. He knew the Danes well and knew that honour stood above all else with them. They could be brutal in war but so could his own people. War was war but murder, especially of a young girl, was something he could not countenance. He said farewell and rose, stiffly from the cot. "I can promise nothing, lad, save I will tell the King all you have told me. We must now await Fr Anselm. Be sure, however, the King will not rush to judgement in this or any matter. The man is in love with the truth and has no liking for injustice."