Lord 0f The North Wind (The Kingdom 0f Northumbria Book 3)

by Jayne Castel

  Aldfrith huffed out a laugh. “No, you’re not dreaming,” he assured her. “This is real, and very soon you will be my wife.”

  His words filled Osana with a warmth that had nothing to do with the friendly face of the sun.

  A moment later Aldfrith passed the reins to his left hand, and with his right gently cupped Osana’s belly. “Will the babe be a boy or a girl?”

  Osana was glad he had whispered the question. It was still early on, and she did not wish for anyone besides the two of them to know about this for the moment. Folk at Bebbanburg would make her life difficult as it was.

  “Which would you prefer?” she asked.

  “Either … although a girl with her mother's eyes and smile would please me very much.”

  A smile curved Osana’s lips. “What if it’s a son with your character and eyes the color of the sky just after dusk?”

  Aldfrith snorted. “I wouldn't wish that upon him.”

  “Why not?” Osana replied. “You’ve the best character of anyone I’ve ever met. Your only mistake was not trusting your own instincts. Passion doesn’t have to rule you, Flann … but it can guide your heart.”

  Aldfrith’s hand stroked her belly. “Thank you, I shall remember that.”

  They reached Bebbanburg the next morning after setting off early, as soon as the first blush of dawn lightened the eastern sky. The party had camped in the midst of a stand of holm oaks, and since the weather was fine, they had not bothered to erect tents. Instead, they had sat around a crackling fire, the warriors taking turns at watch.

  Despite that she had lain upon the hard ground festooned with tree roots, Osana had slept surprisingly well. She had awoken rested to find Aldfrith seated beside her, ready with a cup of hot broth.

  The smile he had given her made it the most beautiful awakening ever.

  Now they rode the last stretch toward the fort, the walls of Bebbanburg rising high above. It was the same path that Osana and Raedwulf had ridden nearly three years earlier on their way to the king’s handfasting.

  Much had changed since then—Osana had indeed changed much. For the first time since girlhood, she truly felt happy.

  Yet as they clattered up the causeway toward the low gate, her stomach knotted and her throat closed. Happiness was a fragile thing; she was still afraid to re-enter the Great Tower of Bebbanburg. How would folk there treat her?

  “Please tell me that Bishop Wilfrid isn’t in residence at the moment?” she asked, voicing the worst of her worries.

  “The bishop and I haven’t gotten on well of late,” Aldfrith replied. “A few days ago I sent him away, back to Inhrypum. He won’t be making any visits to Bebbanburg for a while.”

  Relief crashed over Osana at this news. She realized that most of her worries stemmed from that man. The memory of Wilfrid’s face the day he had walked in on them on Lindisfarena would haunt her forever: his hard, haughty expression, and the judgment in his dark eyes.

  Osana let out the breath she had been holding. “That’s welcome news indeed.”

  Aldfrith cantered his horse in through the high gate and drew it up in front of the stables. He swung down from his stallion's back and helped Osana dismount.

  “Cerdic!” A woman's voice carried across the stable yard.

  Osana glanced up to see Lora, her blonde curls fluttering, bound down the steps from the tower and hurry across the stable yard toward them. Joy flowered within Osana at the sight of her friend. She was a welcome sight indeed.

  Ignoring his companions, even his king, Cerdic strode forward to meet her. Reaching Lora, he gathered her up in his arms and kissed her. She responded in kind, winding her arms around his neck, and standing on her tip-toes to reach him. They were both oblivious to the fact they had an audience.

  Osana turned to Aldfrith, a smile curving her lips. “You didn’t tell me this news.”

  He returned the smile. “It wasn’t mine to tell,” he replied. “I’m sure Lora will wish to tell you in her own words.”

  Eventually, Lora and Cerdic broke apart, and the woman peeked around him to see who accompanied the warrior.

  Lora let out a squeal. “Osana!”

  Osana huffed, pretending to be affronted. “I wondered when you’d notice me.”

  Her friend left Cerdic, who was now grinning, and rushed to Osana. The women hugged, and when Osana pulled back, her eyes were smarting. “I missed you,” she muttered. “You’ve got no idea what an acerbic tongue my aunt has.”

  Lora smiled, her blue eyes gleaming. “And I have missed you … more than you can possibly imagine.”

  Osana raised an eyebrow before flicking a look in Cerdic’s direction. “Much has changed I see?”

  Lora responded with a sly look. “Aye … for us both.”

  “Cerdic,” Aldfrith called out. “Go fetch Oswald. He will come to the Great Hall and wed us at noon.”

  The warrior nodded, still smiling, and turned on his heel to do the king’s bidding.

  Lora met Osana’s eye, her gaze wide. “You’re having your handfasting today?”

  Osana nodded, her belly fluttering with a mixture of nerves and excitement. This was really happening. “It seems so.”

  “But you don’t have a dress … and what about the feast?”

  “Don’t worry about that, Lora,” Aldfrith cut in. “Take some of the other women out with you into the fields below the fort and gather flowers for the hall. We’ll have whatever’s already planned for supper for our feast—I’m sure there are some cheeses and cured meats we can bring out of the stores.”

  “Aye, sire.” Lora dropped into a neat curtsey, her face taking on a look of determination. “You will have guests for the handfasting too … forgive me, I forgot to tell you before.”

  Osana watched the smile fade from Aldfrith’s face. Likewise, Osana’s buoyant mood dimmed. Neither of them wanted guests at the fort today.

  “Who is it?” Aldfrith asked, after a pause.

  Lora’s gaze flicked from the king’s face to Osana’s, her own smile dimming. “The ealdormen of Catraeth and Gefrin are here to see you, milord.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Unwelcome Guests

  WHY NOW? IT sometimes seemed as if the world conspired against him.

  The last thing Aldfrith wanted was a visit from Edwin of Gefrin and Wulfred of Catraeth. The ealdormen—these two especially—were not supposed to know of his wedding until after the fact. He did not want their interference.

  “Aldfrith?” Osana’s voice intruded. He glanced down to see her watching him, her brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”

  He shook his head and forced a smile. “Nothing … I just wish the ealdormen would give me some peace. Not a month goes by without one of them riding here to complain about some inconsequential.” He linked his arm through hers and feigned a lightness of tone. “Come, love. Let me escort you into the Great Hall. I shall have an alcove cleared for you, so that you can prepare for the ceremony.”

  Osana flashed him a grateful smile, and Aldfrith’s chest constricted. He would not have anyone ruin this day. He had already put Osana through too much. He would not make her suffer again.

  Yet as they entered the tower, and his gaze settled upon the two heavy-set figures awaiting him upon the high seat, Aldfrith’s pulse quickened. He knew Edwin and Wulfred would make their opinions of this handfasting clear.

  Aldfrith clenched his jaw. Let them have their say … it won’t change anything. By the time the sun starts its path toward the western horizon, Osana and I shall be wed.

  The ealdorman of Catraeth spotted him first. Hirsute and broad, his girth even wider than the last time Aldfrith had seen him, Wulfred heaved himself to his feet. However, the greeting he had just been about to boom died on his lips when he spied Osana at the king’s side, her arm linked through Aldfrith’s.

  Beside him the ealdorman of Gefrin rose to his feet. Edwin’s gaze flitted past Aldfrith before spearing Osana. His mouth thinned. Aldfrith felt Osana’s
step falter at his side. He squeezed her arm. “Don’t let them bother you,” he murmured. “Remember, it is I who rule here.”

  And yet from the way these two men, both warriors past their prime yet fighting men nonetheless, stood upon the high seat, you would have thought either of them was the lord of this land and not Aldfrith.

  “Lord Aldfrith,” Edwin drawled as the king drew close. “We heard you were away hunting … is this your catch?”

  “Good day, Edwin,” Aldfrith replied, keeping his voice as flat and emotionless as he could manage. There was no point in dancing around the subject with the ealdormen, better to have the truth out in the open. “I went to retrieve Osana from Jedworth, where she has been staying with her aunt. I plan to make her my wife shortly. Will you stay for the ceremony?”

  That shocked them.

  Aldfrith almost smiled at the way Wulfred’s mouth gaped and at Edwin’s slack-jawed stare.

  Wulfred was the first to recover. “Sire … you cannot wed her.”

  Aldfrith quirked an eyebrow, stepping up onto the high seat with Osana at his side. She clung to his arm, her fingers digging into his flesh. “I can, and as soon as the priest arrives, I will.”

  “Do the other ealdormen know of this?” Edwin growled.

  Aldfrith met his gaze unflinchingly. Anger was starting to curl up from the pit of his belly. He was tired of these men treating him as if he was their lesser. “They don’t need to know,” he replied. Now that he stood upon the high seat he was at an advantage. He was nearly half a foot taller than either of the ealdormen; both of them had to raise their chins to eyeball him.

  His cousin locked gazes with him. It was a dominant, challenging stare that made Aldfrith’s hackles rise.

  “I take it there’s a reason you are both in Bebbanburg?” Aldfrith asked. “Let us speak of that.”

  Edwin of Gefrin folded his heavily muscled arms across his chest. “Aye … we’re here to see what you’ve done about rebuilding this kingdom’s army.”

  Aldfrith watched him, feigning calm when inside he was beginning to seethe. Would Edwin ever let this subject rest? “Are we at war?”

  His cousin sneered. “This period of peace will not last … it never does.”

  “Edwin has spoken to me of his concerns, and I agree with him,” Wulfred added, “You need to start gathering a fyrd: a king’s army. Spears and horsemen who will ride against our enemies with only a few days’ notice.”

  “A king only needs to call upon a fyrd in desperate times,” Aldfrith countered. “I’d prefer to let the men of this land tend to their fields, their families.”

  “A king needs to think of his kingdom,” Edwin interrupted, his face reddening. “And that’s why you don’t wed who you want. You wed to make Northumbria strong.”

  Aldfrith clenched his jaw; his cousin had slyly managed to bring the argument full-circle—back to his impending handfasting to Osana.

  “Northumbria is already strong,” he replied. “The kings who have gone before me have seen to that. We have no quarrel with our neighbors, and I have no need to wed in order to weave peace. The East Angles and the Mercians leave us alone these days.”

  Wulfred of Catraeth snorted. “Complacency is the first step to defeat. Next you'll be giving what land still rests to us in the north to Bridei mac Beli.”

  Aldfrith stepped forward, releasing Osana’s arm as he did so. “Enough, Wulfred.” His glare swept over both men. “I never met my half-brother, Ecgfrith, but I do know he wed twice in the best interests of his kingdom and died a bitter angry man as a result.” His voice carried across the hall. “You forget, I already wed a princess of Wessex and learned just how empty a loveless union can be. It rots a man’s soul. Do you think Ecgfrith might not have rushed headlong into war if he had not been so bitter and full of rancor at the world?”

  Silence followed his words, and so Aldfrith filled it. His blood was up, his hands clenched by his sides. He would not be caged, nor dictated to. He would break the jaw of the next man to question him. “Listen to me well, for I shall not repeat myself,” he growled. “I shall decide whom I wed … and no one else.”

  Aldfrith glanced over at Osana then, noting how pale and strained her face was. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, managing a smile. “The priest will be here soon.”

  At that moment the doors to the Great Hall opened, and Cerdic strode in. However, the priest was not following him. Aldfrith watched him approach; his stomach clenched at the serious look on the warrior's face.

  “Oswald's away,” Cerdic informed him.

  Aldfrith’s belly dropped. “Where?”

  “He’s gone to visit Bishop Wilfrid in Inhrypum.”

  Aldfrith swallowed a vicious curse. It suddenly felt as if all the gods—the old and the new—had turned against him. “Take some men and ride fast to Inhrypum,” he ordered. “Get Oswald but tell the bishop nothing.”

  Cerdic stared back at him a moment before nodding. He then turned on his heel and strode out of the Great Hall, the doors booming shut behind him.

  Wulfred of Catraeth broke the heavy silence that followed. “So the bishop’s not to know?”

  Aldfrith glanced his way and frowned. He did not like the sly look in the man's eyes. “No,” he replied. “This handfasting is none of his business.” His frown deepened as he gave up all pretense at civility. “Nor is it yours.”

  “What do you think?”

  Osana glanced up to see that Lora was holding up a green gown. It was a simple dress, with long bell-like sleeves and a hem embroidered with gold thread. “This belonged to the Lady Cuthburh,” Lora continued. “She was as thin as a reed with no bosom, so I have let the dress out at the bust and adjusted the seams slightly; it should fit you perfectly now.”

  Osana nodded and forced a smile. In truth she had a lump in her throat, and it felt as if a boulder had lodged itself in the pit of her belly.

  Lora’s hopeful smile faded. “Do you not like it?”

  “It’s lovely,” Osana replied. “I’m just preoccupied … that’s all. Aldfrith and I should be wed by now. I’m starting to think it’ll never happen.”

  Lora snorted. “Nonsense. The king wants you, and he'll have you. Don't worry about those scheming men. Long have they wanted to exert control over the king. But you saw Aldfrith earlier; he will not have it.”

  Osana had, and that worried her too. “What if he ruins his relationship with the ealdormen over me?”

  “And what relationship would that be?” Lora replied, her gaze narrowing. “As I see it, there’s no relationship to be salvaged. It’s up to Aldfrith to forge a new one. Don't let their disapproval ruin your joy.” Lora’s brow smoothed then. “Plus there’s nothing wrong with having to wait a little … it’s given me time to ready a dress for you. The other women are out there decorating the hall, and the cook’s baking a huge hare pie for the feast. I know you want to wed immediately, but what difference does one day make?”

  “Little, I hope,” Osana replied. The churning in her belly had now ceased; Lora’s practicality never failed to make her feel better. Her friend had spoken true. It was the king’s word that mattered here, not that of his ealdormen. He had done right to respond harshly.

  Even so, she would be happy when the wait was over.

  The two women sat on low stools inside an alcove. This space, which had until earlier today been occupied by a thegn and his wife, lay just a few feet from the king’s quarters. Osana would spend tonight in here, and then after she and Aldfrith wed, this alcove would go to Lora and Cerdic.

  Osana watched Lora for a long moment. Her friend was examining the hem of the dress, in the light of the cresset that burned on the stone wall beside her. Curiosity rose within Osana. Ever since she had returned, her head had been filled with thoughts of her own handfasting; she had not had time to speak to Lora about what had happened in her life during Osana’s absence.

  “It warms my heart to see you happy with Cerdic,” she said eventually. “When
I left I feared you had closed your heart to him.”

  Lora glanced up and smiled. “I almost had. I know I sometimes act as if I don’t have a care in the world … but that isn’t the truth. Of late I’ve grown mistrustful of others. I was angry with you for leaving and not taking me with you. I felt abandoned here. All I saw before me was a life of drudgery, and having to fight off the advances of men every night until I was too old and wrinkled to warrant their attention.” Lora broke off here, plucking at a loose thread on the gown. A blush suddenly stained her cheeks. “But upon his return from Jedworth, Cerdic came to me.”

  Osana smiled. “I'm glad he did. Will you be wed?”

  Lora glanced up. “Our handfasting is planned for just before Winterfylleth. It’s a good time of year to be wed.”

  Osana rose from her stool and crossed to where her friend sat. She then knelt down so that their gazes were level. Reaching out, she took hold of Lora’s hand. “True friends are rare,” she said softly. “I’m sorry I left you here, although now I see it was for the best. You would have hated my aunt anyway … Hagona has a good heart, but she’s as prickly as a hedgehog.”

  Lora chuckled. “Aye, and Cerdic might not have worked up the courage to approach me otherwise.” She placed her free hand over Osana’s and squeezed tightly. “Now, enough of this talk … you’ll have me weeping in a moment. We have a mountain of things to organize before your handfasting. I’ve picked a selection of flowers from the meadows. They’re sitting in jugs of water so they don’t wilt. You need to choose which ones you’ll wear in your hair.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  My Bride Awaits

  CERDIC RETURNED FROM Inhrypum in the early afternoon the following day. He cantered into the inner palisade upon a lathered horse, the priest Oswald perched behind him. The other members of Cerdic’s party thundered in moments later.