Oswald of Grimsbury (a story of faith)

This is a short story about Oswald of Grimsbury. If you read it to children get them involved. They can make the spooky noises when the shadows and wind blow. Whimpering dog noises and the sound of cattle lowing. The sound of horses can be a gentle slapping of hands on thighs increasing or decreasing as required.

Oswald of Grimsbury

The year was 890 and it was October the 31^st. All Hallows Eve, the day before All Saints Day. Folk now call it Halloween.

It was a full moon. The wind raced dark clouds across the sky. The moonlight occasionally breaking through, moving shadows from houses and trees into open spaces and back again. The village housed both pagans and Christian families huddled in their timber walled and thatched hovels. All in the village were Saxons. The wisps of smoke that escaped from the roof holes mingle with the mist rising from the small lake. A wooden stockade encircled the village.

The shadows took on ghostly shapes as the smoke and mist was lit by the fleeting light of the moon.

Most folk stayed huddled together in their draughty and smoke filled hovels on this chilly night.

The wind created strange sounds as it blew through the thatch and trees and over and around the huts.

The cattle in their pen added to the sounds by lowing to each other.

In the distance wolves howled at the moon.

Strangely the domesticated dogs cowered in the doorways of their masters huts. They were making that low whimpering sort of howl that frightened dogs trying to be brave make.

The monks in the timber and thatch church were chanting the hours as they prepared to honour and celebrate the lives of those from the village and other folk they knew who had died in the previous year.

To the villagers in their homes the monks chanting just added to the sense of unease that the villagers felt.

The villagers and the monks knew that the invaders from the northern lands were marching south. They had heard of what they did to Saxons. They either killed them or sold them into slavery. The monks knew that if the village fell they would all be killed because they were Christians and these invaders hated the God of the Christians. They all knew what the invaders wanted most – their land. This caused Christian and pagan to be full of dread.

This was Grimsbury in 890. It had a river flowing between it and the new village of Banbury. The small lake was a good source of fresh fish for the monks. The Masters hall, the biggest building in the village, stood near the church. Everything looked poor – it didn’t pay to look rich in these times.

The stockade wall was made of old and now mostly rotten wood. It hadn’t been kept in a state of good repair. The ditch around the wall, which had originally been made to make it harder to get to the wall, had long since been filled with years of fallen leaves and the rubbish folk had thrown into it.

Small boats were tied up on the bank of the river. They were meant to ferry people from the village across to Banbury in the event of an attack. There hadn’t been much rain and the river was shallow. If the river had been deep the invaders might have rowed their dragon headed boats up from oxford.

The Master of the village, a descendent of Grim the founder of the village, had been told the Vikings were moving south and moving towards Gloucester. He was told that in all probability they would be outside Grimsbury early next morning. If anyone had been brave enough to venture out on such a night, they would have seen the glow of camp fires beyond the trees in the distance.

The Master, his wife and children, his slaves and his three retained warriors, and what gold and silver he had, had crossed the river and were safely in the new strong stockade of Banbury.

Those left in Grimsbury had been left there in the hope the Vikings would vent their anger and frustration on them and leave the much better defended Banbury alone.

The leader of the church the Abbot had argued with the Master strongly against this but decided to be quiet when the Master pulled out his sword.

The Abbot and the monks were busy praying, several for the villagers a lot for themselves.

Oswald was a young man of maybe sixteen, no-one really knew. He had been abandoned some ten years earlier, when he was only about six. The church had taken him in and because he showed a willingness to learn, had become a scribe. His job was to copy scripture and any other books he was told to. That very day he had written out the story from Two Kings Chapter six from the bible. The thing about Oswald was this, he believed what he had read and written. He believed that God could do today what he had done in the past. Oswald was probably the only person in Grimsbury who was not afraid.

As dawn broke another noise added to the strange and frightening atmosphere. It was the sound of an army approaching. The horse’s hooves drummed over the ground. The warriors chatted and some sang songs of past victories. Their packs rattled against their weapons and shields.

Oswald counted forty mounted warriors and about two hundred and fifty on foot. Behind them were about forty young boys and girls each had their hands tied together. They were all tethered together by a rope tied round their necks. They looked frightened and miserable.

The warriors looked confident and fearsome. They all had long hair and beards. Into their hair and beards were tied bones and bits of metal. Their faces were tattooed with fantastical designs of beasts. All carried swords and knives. Some had huge battle axes casually slung across their shoulders.

The warriors lined up about one hundred paces from and opposite the stockade’s gate. The wind dropped and the air became still.

The Viking leader rode forward about fifty paces. He stopped his horse and shouted for the stockade to surrender.

There was a lot of noise inside the stockade and suddenly the gate opened a fraction – out stepped Oswald. He strode confidently towards the Viking leader. Oswald was dressed in his tattered hand me down habit and went bare footed.

The Viking leader shouted what he would do to Oswald and the village. Oswald silently prayed.

The Viking leader who called himself Ragnor shouted an order and out of the line of warriors stepped an archer. He strung has bow, knocked an arrow, pulled back the string and took aim.

Oswald remained calm and prayerful.

The archer loosed the arrow.

Oswald watched the arrow get larger as it flew towards his chest.

A violent gust of wind caused the arrow to veer to the left of Oswald finally embedding itself into one of the gate timbers. A gate which was now firmly closed.

The warriors jeered at the disgruntled archer who had a look of bewilderment on his fearsome face.

Ragnor shouted again. Two warriors on horseback rode out of the line and charged at Oswald. Their swords and mail gleaming in the early morning light. The turf flew from the horse’s hooves as they charged at Oswald.

Oswald stood still, he continues to pray silently, looking totally at peace.

The eyes of the horses widened. They skidded to a halt, their haunches low to the ground their front legs rearing up. The two riders, taken completely by surprise, fell from their saddles and lay winded upon the damp earth. The horses bolted away, running at full pace through the line of warriors. The two horses kept going. The warriors had started to fidget and even Ragnor looked a little anxious, wondering what sort of magic had been set against him.

Oswald started to walk towards Ragnor. Ragnor’s horse became skittish. Oswald spoke to the horse in a quiet and reassuring voice. The horse became perfectly still and allowed Oswald to stroke it’s forehead.

Ragnor now looked anxious and bewildered. He shouted at Oswald but left his sword in it’s scabbard.

When Ragnor had finished his rant, Oswald beckoned him to lean forward. Ragnor complied. Oswald prayed “Lord Jesus, you who are the light of the world, open the eyes of Ragnor and his men that they might see, just as you opened the eyes of Elisha’s servant.”

Ragnors eyes widened in fear and the colour drained from his face. He pulled the reins and as he and the horse turned he saw the backs of his warriors as they fled the field. Those on horseback leaving those running far behind.

Oswald went to the two men lying on the grass and helped them to their feet. As soon as they were up they turned and ran, leaving their swords on the ground.

Oswald picked up a sword and followed the retreating men until he came to the bound group of captives. The group were standing in a huddle frightened and bewildered by what they had just seen. Wondering why their captors had run away from this young monk. Oswald cut through the ropes that bound the captives. They then followed him back to the stockade. They followed him through the open gate and into the clearing.

The Abbot walked up to Oswald and asked him what he had said to the Viking chief?

“Master” Oswald replied “I didn’t speak to him. I only talked with the our Lord Jesus asking Him to open their eyes that they would see the Angel of The Lord, the white mounted warriors and the fiery chariots just as Elisha and his servant did all those years ago.

“And you and they saw them?”

“Yes master – didn’t you?”

-oo0oo-