The Wyvern's End (Wyrd Of The Wolf Book 3)

Book summary

In "The Wyvern's End," set in AD 726, King Ine of Wessex embarks on a pilgrimage to Rome, leaving his kingdom vulnerable to rival factions. Aethelheard, a courageous warrior and strategic thinker, seeks the throne amidst competition fueled by Wynflaed, a wayward nun on a quest for vengeance against Aethelheard's mother. John Broughton's third installment in the 'Wyrd Of The Wolf' series is an epic narrative of faith, ambition, and treachery, revealing that the fate of kingdoms hangs not only on battles but also on the hidden machinations of those in power's shadowy halls.

Excerpt from The Wyvern's End (Wyrd Of The Wolf Book 3)

Kingsham, Suth Seaxa, AD 722

Apart from a shaggy-bearded individual, all the other customers in the tavern might have imagined the beautiful young noblewoman seated in an isolated corner of the room to be a hideous witch; her features were hidden deep within a hood. She had moved the candle artfully to her left so that it might not light her face within its cowl. The woman, Wynflaed, a former nun, and the shaggy-bearded man, Ealdbert, an aetheling or prince, had good reason to be furtive: they were here for a treasonable encounter.

For the past ten days, urged on by Wynflaed’s ambitions and hatred, the aetheling had unceasingly courted the Mercian Ealdorman, Leofwig of Grantebrycge, seated opposite him. The wily, experienced nobleman was more than a match for their combined cunning but was never one to miss an opportunity when it presented itself.

Leofwig was chief counsellor to King Aethelbald of Mercia, who had recently filled something of a political vacuum to become the foremost of the Southern Anglo-Saxon kings.

“What am I to do?” the young pretender sighed. He lowered his voice to a whisper, “Ine is gathering men around him as we sit here in futile discussions.”

“Futile? Not so. The best ideas are like a good ale: the product of fermentation! What about taking your warriors to the fortress of Tantun? I was there a while ago, and to my eye, it is nigh on unassailable. Think on this: that sturdy stronghold stands near the southern borders of Mercia. It is a small step for King Æthelbald to make to unite his forces with yours.”

The aetheling stared at Leofwig with a troubled expression. “Do you really think King Æthelbald will come to my aid? Why would he do that?”

The ealdorman sighed impatiently, “I have told you. The king is tired of King Ine thwarting his progress in the south. He wishes for new blood—an energetic ally, with whom he can work in harmony. He has great hopes of you, Lord Ealdbert!”

“I shall take my men to Tantun without delay. Will you come with us, friend Leofwig?”

“Not at once. I will join you as soon as I can. But first, I have tasks to complete in Winchester to confound and weaken Ine.”

Leofwig rose from his seat and held out a hand that the aetheling clasped with ardour. The Ealdorman of Grantebrycge bestowed his most charming smile upon the muscular figure, so different from his own. Who knows, I might be dealing with the next king of the West Seaxa? It was possible, but in his callous heart, he doubted such an outcome. Grasping his hand, he felt like treacherous Judas Iscariot receiving his silver. It takes treachery to snare a traitor.

Wynflaed watched the ealdorman leave from the vantage point of the dark corner opposite, where she had taken the precaution of extinguishing the single candle lighting the table. She threw back the hood of her cloak, covering her luxuriant dark locks, freed now for many months from its restraining wimple. There was no longer a need for her to be a seemly nun. Instead, she wore the long, flowing hair of a noblewoman—that station she would never relinquish._

Decisively, she strode over to the aetheling. It mattered not if they were seen together here by the common folk of Kingsham. They were by now a regular sight. The losses incurred by Ine in Dumnonia meant that it was now much safer to stay among the Suth Seaxa. It was only crucial not to have been seen with the Mercian, as tongues were eager to wag, and Ine's spies were sure to be watching Ealdbert. Keen to know the outcome of the meeting, she asked, “Did the Mercian promise his support?”

She couldn't keep the eagerness out of her voice; so much was riding on his aid.

“As good as. I must ride for Tantun where Aetheling Beonna and his men will join me. King Æthelbald is as weary as we are of Ine. If I make a stand there, he will lend his forces too, so King Ine's days are numbered, my dear. Will you tell Oswald, or shall I?” Oswald made up the triumvirate of princelings, members of factious families eager to seize power in Wessex—all weary of King Ine’s long and stern, but just, reign.

“I told you Oswald is gone to Dumnonia to treat with the King of Cornwall. When you are successful, you will take the throne, make him the King of Dorset, and have allies to the west.”

Ealdbert smiled darkly, “Ah, I had forgotten that he would not share in my glory. I'm used to having him by my side.”

“It's important that rivals like Aethelheard cannot call on aid from other West Seaxa families and their allies.”

“You're right, of course, Wynflaed. You're a scheming little wildcat!”

“You have no idea! Once this is over, Oswald will slay you, and I'll be his lady.”

She contented herself with the innocent smile of satisfaction on his shaggy-bearded face—for the time being.

***

Winchester

Within the week, Ealdorman Leofwig stood before Queen Æthelburh. Although he was content to appear as everyone's friend, he worked solely for his beloved Mercian master. His plan to see the king had gone awry since Ine was indisposed. The queen's flowing gown, embroidered with gold thread, did not conceal her lithe muscularity. The tales he'd heard about her prowess as a warrior might, after all, be true. Her amber-flecked hazel eyes stared at him with disconcerting intensity. He reminded himself not to be swayed by her allure.

“My king urged me to lend any help that Mercia can provide to you and your husband. Hence, I came with information about the plotting of the rebel Ealdbert as soon as it came into my possession.”

“And we thank you, Ealdorman. What information do you bring?”

“It's no mere whim that Ealdbert plans to take refuge in Tantun.”

“I warned Ine that fortress would be a problem. It's too remote to control,” she responded tersely.

“My sources inform me that Ealdbert has reached out to Dumnonia, seeking revenge for recent defeats,” he fabricated effortlessly. “Emissaries have crossed the Saefern to enlist the aid of Gwent. Gwent is merely a stone's throw from Tantun. They're bound to assist their British cousins. I foresee a trap tightening.” His tone was dripping with feigned concern.

The queen took the bait as readily as a pike lunging at a baited worm.

“We'll act promptly,” she declared, clapping her hands. A servant hastened over.

“Order the workshops to produce as much pine resin as possible by tomorrow!”

A surge of excitement washed over Leofwig. If the queen had requisitioned turpentine, she was likely plotting to raze Tantun. His strategy was bearing fruit far beyond his anticipation. King Æthelbald would surely be pleased, and that promised accolades for Leofwig.

* * *

King Ine lay on his bed, and his restless eyes, in contrast to his immobile head, sought out the face of his infirmarian. From the nearby local abbey of Wimborne, Cynethryth had once again responded to the royal summons. The monarch had taken a tumble from his horse while hunting. He probably didn't know how fortunate he had been, especially at his age, not to have died of a broken neck. The temporary paralysis that gripped the ruler for several days after the fall had induced him to panic and summon her with all haste. Careful examination revealed to Cynethryth bruising and swelling at the back of his neck, and she, too expert to move him, bound his neck to keep it rigid.

“A few weeks of complete rest, and you will be able to resume normal activities, Sire. The important thing is to let the fractured bones heal without damaging the nerves.”

The king ground his teeth.

“Am I to let my wife lead the army as she wishes? She behaves too much like a man as it is.”

“Is that a real question, Sire, or is my King merely stating his displeasure?”

“This fall could not have come at a more inconvenient moment, Lady, when a threat to our borders and my throne has occurred.”

“What makes you think a woman is unfit to lead the army? The queen is known for her resolve.”

“I will not send my hearthweru with her. I need them here while I'm unfit to move.”

By chance, at that moment, Aethelheard, the commander of the king’s bodyguard, begged leave to enter the royal bedchamber, and permission was granted. He gave a summary nod to his mother and addressed the monarch directly.

“Sire, my informants believe they have found the reason for this rebellion. Ealdbert has been seen in Kingsham meeting with a dark-haired woman together with the Mercian Ealdorman from Grantebrycge who begged leave to meet with you."

“Then what my queen tells me is true. Ealdbert plans to seize Tantun and from there launch his challenge for my throne.”

“Sire, give the word and I will lead our men against him.”

“Nay, Aethelheard, I wish for you and your men to stay here to guard the royal vill. The queen will take our host to Tantun and put an end to the rebellion.”

“Well said, Sire!” Cynethryth surprised them both.

“But—”

Ine cut off Aethelheard's protest.

“My decision is final.”

“The raven-haired woman is bound to be Wynflaed,” Cynethryth said. “I warned you about her.”

“I will raise a search for the pair of them,” Aethelheard replied. “Let's pray that the queen destroys Ealdbert and the witch once and for all.”

That this prayer went unheeded became apparent upon the return of Æthelburh. She wished to transform her distress at allowing the rebel to evade her guards into the action of pursuit, but King Ine would not hear of it. For the moment, as he explained, he wished to be fit again to consider the safety of his border with Mercia now that his wife had reduced Tantun to a smoldering pile of ashes. With his desire for expansion, he told his commanders King Aethelbald was the greatest threat to Wessex. Aethelheard would bear this in mind in times to come.