Saint Cuthbert Trilogy

Chapter 2-2

A few days later, I noticed a fellow from another group casting envious glances at my knife thrust into my belt and he was wearing a dirty yellow tunic. I decided that I’d keep a wary eye on him, but he was too crafty. He sneaked up at night and coolly slid the knife from under my belt. I found it missing in the morning, which is when I sought him out to accuse him of the theft. Of course, he feigned outrage and made a scene, which ended in us pushing and shoving each other before fists flew. Then, my comrades came a-running to my aid, shouting,

yellow“What’s going on?”

“This fellow’s stolen my throwing knife.”

“Liar! Prove it!”

This is where I was grateful to Sibbald,

“Oh, we will right enough!” he said, tipping out the man’s pack on the ground. Of course, too obvious, it wasn’t there among his belongings. But Sibbald, astute as a stoat in winter, tossed the man’s pallet of ferns, and blankets aside and studied the soil under it.

I knew at once and so did Sibbald, who leant over the spot where the earth had been freshly disturbed and dug into the soft ground with the point of his seax. In moments, he was brandishing my knife for all to see.

“I don’t know how that got there!” the wretch said lamely and even his companions, who were spoiling for a fight with mine, sneered and hissed ‘nithing’.

‘nithing’Sibbald marched him at seax point, with many a threat, to Berhtred to accuse him of theft.

Since this was a grave matter, I was pleased that the case was irrefutable. Also, I was Berhtred’s favourite at the time. Our leader listened to the accusation and looked as if he would strangle the thief with his bare hands. When the thunder had cleared from his face, he said, “Ina,” for that was his name, “there are witnesses to your theft and you know the penalty. I will have no thieving in this camp. You will forfeit ten silver pennies to be paid to Aella before the setting of the sun. You will both come here to me when the sun touches the top of yon tallest tree.”

Ina blanched because ten silver pennies was a fair sum in that, the fourteenth, year of King Ecgfrith’s reign. I did not doubt that the miserable thief had spent all afternoon begging around the camp for silver coins. When he came with leaden steps to join me before Berhtred’s tent as the sun sank to the treetops, he glared at me as though I had injured him, not the other way around.

“Have you brought the ten pieces of silver, Ina?” Berhtred boomed.

The wretch trembled, and began to snivel,

“Nay, Lord, I could not raise the sum. I made a terrible mistake. I beg Aella to forgive me. It was a moment of weakness.”

“That it was not!” I glowered at him, “I know you planned to steal my knife for many days and you sneaked up in the night when everyone was asleep to spirit it away. Not satisfied, you buried in the ground where you thought nobody would find it. What do you say to that?”

“It’s true and I wronged you, but now I’m pleading with you.”

“Silence!” Berhtred bellowed and glared around the small crowd that was forming to see justice dispensed. “The law is clear on this,” he continued, “if the stipulated sum is not paid in the stated time, the thief must lose a hand.”

Ina cringed and whimpered, “Lord, I beg of you…Aella…have mercy!”

I decided at that moment that I would pity him, only not as he meant it.

Berhtred grasped Ina by the arm. Even the strongest man in the camp couldn’t have broken that grip. There was no chance of flight.

Aella, find a decent log and bring your axe. The hand is yours to take!”

I hurried away and found a sturdy fallen branch, a yard long. Next, I fetched my axe.

“A good clean blow,” Edwy advised, “Don’t hesitate.”

He walked beside me back to Berhtred, breathing words of encouragement and condemnation of Ina. It strengthened my resolve as I tossed the log on the ground at their feet.

“No!” shrieked the wretch, his eyes wild.

“You asked for mercy, and I will give it to you.”

“What!” exclaimed Berhtred, his face a mask of fury.

I smiled at him and said,

“Ina, are you keck-handed or do you use your right?”

“My right!” he screamed.

“Then I will take the left and count yourself lucky!”

At this, Berhtred roared with mirth and pinned the left arm of the villain to the ground at the elbow.

“Lower your wrist to the log or it’ll go far worse for you,” I cried.

As if in a bad dream, I raised the axe and brought it down with all my new-found strength. When I stepped back, I looked in horror, as if I hadn’t delivered the blow, at the gushing blood and the hand with its curled fingers severed on the ground.

I always kept my blade whetted and fit to shave with, so the strike had been clean.

“Quick!” shouted Berhtred, “Fetch a brand to seal the wound!”

This was done among the screams of the victim and he lived to fight with a shield strapped to his left arm. It may not seem like it, but I had, indeed, performed an act of mercy by allowing Ina to retain his weapon hand so that he could engage in combat like a man in battle.

I avoided crossing his path whenever he was in the vicinity, so the matter of his mutilation remained a distant thought—at least for me.