Old Habits (Dye Hard): The Adventures of Wulfbertie, #1

By Amanita Peridot Festoon

Wulfbert of Dean in the Saxon, or maybe, Anglo-Celtic county of Engle-land, some time in the dark middle ages is destined to be a soldier.  Until his parents abandon him in the local Abbey by way of punishment for his own good with a load of monks with silly haircuts and shabby habbits.  The holy brothers don't understand his destiny or the importance of fighting the vikings and bears and other bad guys.  So, obviously, he is going to escape.  As soon as possible.  After dinner. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tilebury Books
• Release date: Apr 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223839163

Amanita Peridot Festoon

Amanita is a seventeen-hundred year old Geo-architectural Fungiphile and harpsichordist.   Throughout her long life Amanita travelled widely in all the known lands of the globe (and some unknown ones). Along the way she recorded the interesting stories of people she met. One of those people was Wulfbertie.  Amanita met Wulfbertie when he was an old man living in the Palace at King's Holm, Glewcaster. He remembered all the events of his youth with crystal clarity and Amanita wrote them down for posterity.

Book preview

Cast of Major Characters

The Family

Wulfbertie our hero

Wulfbeard Wulfbertie's father

Werwulf Wulfbertie's grandfather

Ægglinfroodea Wulfbertie's mother (Froody for short)

Eddlinwulf Wulfbertie's eldest brother (Eddy)

Wulfbat (Batty) Wulfbertie's second older brother

Eddlinbert Wulfbertie's great uncle

Eddlinric Eddlinbert's lost son (Ricky for short)

The Abbey

Pacific the abbot, former name Prinnard

Riggor the subPrior, keeps the accounts

Brother Fretful a relic enthusiast, with Expectations

Novice Lavio a trainee monk, without a Past

Brothers monks, a host of men with long black habits

Franc the greatest builder in all Normanland

Shergar and Brutus  equines

Glewcaster

Cornelius the alderman

Marcus his son

Penwahl the sheriff

Penryn his son

Grendal the town clerk

Beogren his son

Torlo Bandy the king's cousin and local bad guy

Siegur his evil henchman

Ralf the little thief

Mistress Trug the widow

The Royal Party

King Baldrat the king

Princess Debrat  the princess

Prince Anthrat the prince, in King Alfred's court

Lady Egglinbig the Lady-in-Waiting (Wulfbertie's aunt)

Kentig and others the royal guard

CHAPTER  I -  DESPERATE TIMES

The Wulf-Man[*] Homestead was under attack!

Viking warriors surged over the marshes of the Sseverne shore.  They smashed through the farmyard defences.  The Wulf family, dozing in the late afternoon sunshine, would be slaughtered, unless...

Wulfbert of Dean, the youngest and bravest of three brothers, prepared his counter-assault.  He smeared dirt over his freckles.  He camouflaged his curly yellow hair with twigs and gobs of mud.  Then he slithered on his belly through the pasture and peeked over the back of Buttercup the cow.  Suddenly he was face to rump with the hated invader.

The large black spot on the hind quarter of Marigold the pig became the snarling face of a Viking axe-man.

Yearch!  Wulfbertie rose to his knees, screeched his battle cry, whirled his sling and let his missile fly.  The pebble smacked Marigold squarely on the snout. 

She squealed, more in annoyance than pain.

Wulfbertie grinned, showing the gap between his front teeth.  His aim was improving.  With a bit more practice he would be ready when the king called for skilled marksmen to fight off the wicked Norsemen.

Wulf-Bert!  Wulfbertie's father peered out from the door of the gloomy Saxon round-house.

Stop pestering that poor pig and come inside.  We need to talk to you.

'Uh-oh!'  thought Wulfbertie.  'Has the broken hay rake been found already?  Or has something exciting happened, like pillage and plague?'

Bertie tucked his sling inside his jerkin.  He would continue fighting the Vikings after his chores.

He hurried inside.  His brothers, Eddlinwulf and Wulfbat, stood nervously by the empty coal bucket.  Batty had cause to look worried - he was always pulling pranks.  But Eddy was never in trouble.  What could the matter be?

Life was very hard lately.  The vegetable harvest had been poor so there was little food.  And since the disaster with the chickens, there were hardly any eggs at all.  They were all learning to go to bed hungry.

Even worse, Lord Torlo Bandy, a wealthy landowner and cousin of the king, was causing trouble.  There was a feud with Lord Bandy which had lasted as long as Bertie could remember.  Bandy claimed ownership of the Homestead because the Wulf family had lost the deeds.

Only two days ago, Lord Bandy had trotted into the farmyard on his great steed, Black Bee, scattering the dying chickens, and coming to a halt beside Wulfbertie.  The black letter 'B' branded on the saddle of his horse filled Bertie's eyes and made him furious.

There was a big row between Bandy and Wulfbertie’s mother Egglinfrood.  Wulfbertie had run to defend his mother, as a loyal Wulf-Man would do.  This had tipped the balance and Bandy had stopped his threats.

However, Bandy's bushy-browed, venomous, cold grey eyes had glowered at Bertie as he turned his horse and galloped away.  Wulfbertie could still picture that look of anger, frustration and danger.

To make the situation even more desperate, last week Viking marauders attacked the town of Glewcaster across the river.  Since then the boys were forbidden to go anywhere near the waterside.  Their mother was especially angry whenever Wulfbertie strayed out of sight.  He wondered if his mother loved him at all any more.

And now, perhaps, there was more bad news.

Ahem,  said Wulfbeard, tugging on his beard.  Sons, times are tough.  There is danger abroad and mischief afoot.

Wulfbertie looked down at his feet.  They were usually in some kind of mischief.

It is time to put our plans into action.

'Plans?  What plans?'  thought Wulfbertie.  'Nobody told me about any plans.'  He began to squirm with excitement.

Froody and I -,  started his father.

Ægglinfroodea!  interrupted his wife, who was sitting by the cold hearth.  Do try to get it right!

Erm, yes, EggyFroo, dear.  Sons, your mother and I have made some decisions in your best interests.  Eddlinwulf, as the eldest, you will go to work for Lord Bandy in the saw mill.

Eddy slumped.  He was a quiet boy who hated leaving the farm and hated Lord Bandy even more.  How could he possibly work for that awful man?

Wulfbat, as the middle son, you will join the army, under the care of your mother's cousin, Eddlinbyn.

Batty whooped for joy. There were great practical jokes he could play in the army, like exploding horse poo under the captain's nose.  Out of sight of Cousin Eddlinbyn, of course. 

Wulfbertie quivered with anticipation.  Surely he, too, would be sent to -

Grandfather Werwulf will stay with us, of course.  He will tend the chicken, continued their father.

Everybody sighed.  Wulfbertie glanced out the door at the old apple tree where Grandfather Werwulf was, as usual, hanging upside down from his favourite branch, clutching Bluebell, his last remaining chicken.

And you, Wulfbert...,  Wulfbeard cleared his throat and looked anywhere but at his youngest son.  He spoke very quickly in a voice that was barely a whisper:  You will go to live with the monks at Glewcaster Abbey.

A shock wave surged through Bertie's body.  There was a moment of disbelief.  And then a feeling of betrayal.

WHAT!  cried Wulfbertie.

Now, Wulfbertie had definite plans of his own and they did not involve monasteries or Glewcaster.  He was shocked.  He was outraged!  Being locked away with boring old monks, spending his days and nights praying, was Wulfbertie's worst nightmare.

But I want to join the army too,  he shouted.  I want to be a catapult man.  I want to swashbuckle against the Vikings.  I want to fight for the king!

Earl,  said his mother.  Baldrat was just a minor prince until his father took control.  My sister could tell you a few stories about King (huh!) Baldrat.  She sniffed, as she picked at the fraying hem of her once-fine dress.

But I am nearly a man.  I want to make my own de-

You are only seven.  And don't shout.

You said I was twelve!

Froody shrugged.  I can spell.  I never said I could count.  You will like it there, all that singing, and um, praying.  Your great Uncle Æddlinbærtiae is a very important man at the abbey.  He will look after you.

She turned away, to avoid Wulfbertie's glare.

Wulfbeard sneaked a glance at his wife and said, quite firmly,  This is what your mother and I have decided, Wulfbert.  Tomorrow we will take our few apples to the market at Glewcaster and you will begin your new life at the monastery.  That is final.

+  +  +

Wulfbertie seethed in silence as he went through his daily chores.  Anger and righteous 'dignation filled his chest.  When the Vikings came again and attacked the Wulf-Man Homestead, he would not be there to protect his family.  Then they would be sorry.

Everybody was restless that night.  Grandfather got up several times to check on his chicken.  Bertie lay on the straw mattress he shared with his brothers, fidgeting and trying out many ideas in his mind.  Eventually he decided to hide until his parents developed a sense of fairness.

Early in the morning before it was light, Wulfbertie crept out of bed.  He dusted off the few insects which were clinging to his hair, and climbed into the lower branches of the old apple tree.  This was his, and Grandfather's, most inventive thinking place.

He wedged himself tightly between a branch and the trunk, and waited for his parents to miss him and feel sorry.  He checked his sling to make sure it was secure around his neck.  He had to be prepared if the enemy came upriver.  He wished they would come, so he could prove how important he was to the safety of the Wulf family.

It grew cold and the wind froze his nose.  Perhaps he should have hidden in the dunghill.  That was warmer and had worked once before.  Now that he had gone to the effort of climbing up, however, he decided to stick it out.  His parents would soon be begging his forgiveness.

At dawn Wulfbeard came out and said, I see you, Wulfbert.  Come down.  It is time to get ready.

Wulfbertie looked around the farmstead.  Though he wanted to be a soldier, he had never actually thought about leaving his home before.  Now, he was being forced to go, and not to the army where life would be thrilling and dangerous, but to live at some boring old abbey.

He recited to himself the Wulf-Man Mantra:

The Wulf-Man's foot is deep - rooted in the soil;

Ancient his hearthstone, bold deeds to inspire.