by Jayne Castel
“Aye,” Aldfrith replied, his gaze never leaving Osana’s face. “But I see the fear in my bride’s eyes.” He stepped closer to her, and, reaching out, took Osana’s hand. “Your skin is so cold.” His gaze narrowed. “Are you well?”
Osana wet her lips before nodding. “I’m in shock … that’s all.”
He gazed into her eyes and gently squeezed her hand. “After all you’ve just witnessed, do you still want me?”
The question was asked with a light tone, yet she saw the aching tenderness, the concern in his gaze. He really was worried she would no longer want to wed him.
Osana raised an eyebrow. “Do you believe me to be so fickle?” She paused then, searching for the right words before continuing. “You forget … I was wed to a warrior for many years. I know what men are capable of … what they have to do to survive. Edwin forced your hand. You had to fight or die.” They watched each other a long moment, before Osana smiled. “They all underestimated you though … a mistake no one will make again.”
Aldfrith huffed. “Is that respect I hear in your voice? It seems I should have used my fists to settle quarrels years ago.”
Osana’s smile widened. She did not want to admit it, but there was something magnetic about the way he had handled himself. “You make me sound shallow,” she admonished him softly. “I already respected you. I love you, Aldfrith.”
Aldfrith smiled then, an intimate, beguiling smile that made Osana’s belly flutter.
A few feet away, the priest cleared his throat. “Sorry for the interruption, sire … but you are not yet man and wife. I didn’t get the chance to complete the ceremony.”
Aldfrith glanced Oswald’s way, his smile fading. “Very well … let us pick up where we left off.” He shifted his attention back to Osana. “If the lady is willing?”
Osana squeezed the hand that still held hers. “Aye, I am.”
An excited hum built around them as Oswald retied the ribbon around their joined hands. Osana did not have to glance over at the watching crowd to know that folk were smiling; she could sense their approval, for it bathed her like a warm bath at the end of a cold winter’s day.
The bishop and the ealdormen had unwittingly transformed her and Aldfrith before the folk of Bebbanburg. Stories would be told about this day around the fire pit for many years to come.
“May true be the hearts that love you,” Oswald said when he had finished binding the ribbon. “I now pronounce you man and wife.” He paused here, his cheeks reddening as an embarrassed smile creased his face. “You may kiss your bride, milord.”
The hall thundered with applause as Aldfrith did just that. He drew Osana into his arms, his mouth slanting across hers in a deep kiss.
Epilogue
From Your Heart
Two months later …
THE WIND WHIPPED Osana’s cloak about her. She tilted her face up, her gaze narrowing as it fixed upon the dark clouds rolling in from the sea. A moment later a raindrop splashed onto her upturned face.
Argus trotted next to her, tail wagging and tongue lolling. The hound had refused to remain behind when she had left the fort. Osana drew her cloak close and hurried her step, her attention shifting to the tall figure clad in a long wine-red tunic who stood at the water’s edge farther along the shore. Her husband seemed to be oblivious to the coming rain. He stood watching out to sea, his expression distant.
“Flann!” she called out. “The weather’s turning.”
Next to her the wolfhound let out a loud bark and rushed forward to greet his master.
Aldfrith, King of Northumbria, turned, blinking as he came out of his reverie. “Osana.” A smile spread across his face. He bent down to ruffle Argus’s ears. “You came looking for me?”
Osana gave a frustrated huff. “Aye … I was beginning to think the tide had swallowed my husband up.”
My husband … how she loved to think of him so. Even two moons since their handfasting, she still felt a thrill of happiness to think that they were wed.
“I like to walk on the shore,” he replied, linking his arm through hers and pulling her close. “It quietens my mind.”
Fat drops of rain hit Osana’s face. She glanced back up at the sky. “We’re going to get soaked.”
“It’s just a summer rain squall,” Aldfrith replied. “When we get back to our quarters, I shall just use it as an excuse to peel your wet clothes off you.”
Osana laughed, although heat pooled in the base of her belly at the suggestion. She looked forward to the time they spent alone together in that warm, comfortable alcove. As king, Aldfrith had a lot of demands put on his time during the day. Yet at night, he was all hers.
She favored him with a sidelong glance. “So … what were you doing, gazing out into the waves so intently?” she asked. “You seemed in another world.”
“I was thinking of the poem I’ve been working on,” he replied with an embarrassed smile.
“You’re writing again?” The news pleased Osana. It had been a while since he had spent time in the annex adjoining the tower. She was glad he had taken up his study once more; it was an important part of who he was, a part of him she loved.
“Aye, although only Argus has heard the poem so far.”
The hound in question bounded on ahead, barking as he spied a seagull swooping low.
“And did he appreciate it?”
Aldfrith shrugged. “He made no comment either way.”
Osana smiled. “Would you like to recite it to me?”
He tilted his head. “Are you sure you want to hear it? Last time I read something to you … you didn’t enjoy it much.”
“Nonsense. I loved it … I just questioned you about it that’s all. I was fascinated how a man could hold such unwavering beliefs in such a changing world.”
Aldfrith’s mouth curved. “I reread those lines the other day … what a pompous braying ass I must have appeared.”
Osana laughed, the sound snatched away by the wind. The rain was falling hard now, pattering onto the sand and wetting their cloaks. “I’ve never seen you that way … now what of this poem. Please, Flann. I’d like to hear it.”
She liked calling him Flann when they were alone, and saw from the tenderness in his eyes that he felt the same way.
“Very well,” he said with a sigh, “although if you mock me, woman, I’ll not read another one ever again.”
“I would never mock you,” she said, all mirth fading. “And I am listening.”
They stopped then, oblivious to the rain that slanted across the beach, turning the world grey. The solid bulk of Bebbanburg fort loomed above them, yet they only had eyes for each other.
Aldfrith held her gaze and began to speak.
“You lie upon my heart like a song
Wise like the earth
Like the ageless moon
You are branded on my soul
We are bound, you and I
There is no choice in it
You shadow my thoughts
Every waking breath
You are my dawn
My noon
My twilight.”
Silence followed Aldfrith’s words. The pair clung together, the rain sluicing across them, plastering their hair to their scalps. The pause drew out, and Aldfrith gave a pained expression. “I knew it … you think it’s awful, don’t you? Sentimental drivel.”
Osana hitched in a breath, blinking back tears. “I think no such thing. It’s beautiful. It comes from your heart, and I love it.”
Relief suffused his face. “Truly?”
“Aye, truly.” She held his gaze. “I love you, Aldfrith. I will cherish those lines for the rest of my days.”
He leaned in, kissing her deeply. Osana clung to him, the driving rain forgotten as his mouth moved over hers. She melted against him and placed her right hand over his heart. The thunder of it against her palm was all the proof she needed that he had meant every word of that poem.
The love they shared had an intens
ity that sometimes felt as if she was drowning in it, and yet she would gladly do so. There could be no sweeter end.
Finally drawing back, his face slick with rain, Aldfrith favored her with a smile that made Osana’s knees tremble beneath her. Then he reached down and placed a hand over her belly; it had just started to swell now. The midwife had told her the babe would be due at Yuletide.
Aldfrith linked his arm through hers once more, and they turned west, walking toward the dunes and the causeway that would take them back to Bebbanburg’s low gate. “Come, wife,” he said, his smile turning wicked. “Let’s get out of the rain. I promised to divest you of your clothing, did I not?”
The End.
Thank you
And here we come to the end of not only the Kingdom of Northumbria series, but the end of a nine-book arc that began in 2012 with DARK UNDER THE COVER OF NIGHT, Book #1 in The Kingdom of the East Angles.
The first of the nine books began in the early years of the 7th Century and this book concludes in the later years. It was an important century in British history—100 years sandwiched between the departure of the Romans and the arrival of the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes, and the first Viking raids in the early 8th Century. It was a time when ‘England’ did not exist, when Britannia was split into a number of warring kingdoms, hence my focus on the three most dominant: East Anglia, Mercia, and Northumbria.
It’s been a fantastic journey, and an epic one. I’m sad to say goodbye to it, and to the mighty fort of Bebbanburg, but it’s time. I hope you enjoyed Aldfrith and Osana’s story. They had a lot of obstacles to overcome, but they got there in the end!
Please consider leaving an honest review on Amazon or Goodreads. If you enjoyed the book then it’s the best way to help others find it!
Thank you for reading my books. I couldn’t do this without you.
Jayne
Historical background for Lord of the North Wind
Seventh Century Anglo-Saxon Britannia was quite different to what we know as ‘England’ today. The Anglo-Saxon period lasted from the departure of the Romans, from around 430 AD, to the Norman invasion, in 1066 AD.
My novels focus on the period in between the departure of the Romans, and the first Viking invasion in 793 AD—a 300-year period in which Anglo-Saxon culture flourished. The British Isles were named Britannia (a legacy of the Roman colonization) and split into rival kingdoms. For the purposes of this novel, we focus on Northumbria with a brief visit to the Pictland (now Scotland) island of Iona. I also make mention of Éirinn, which was the ancient name for Ireland.
Many locations in Northumbria appear in this novel, although their names are somewhat different to modern-day England. Bebbanburg was the old name for Bamburgh, the seat of Northumbrian Kings for many centuries. At the time of our story, the castle would not have been built, however, there would have been a wooden fort at the top of the rocky outcrop, and, possibly, a Great Tower made of local stone. The nearby island of Lindisfarena is none other than Lindisfarne, also known today as Holy Island.
I mention a number of other places in Northumbria. These include:
Catraeth: Catterick
Gefrin: Yeavering
Eoforwic: York
Inhrypum: Ripon
Hagustaldes: Hexham
Jedworth (Jedworð): Jedburgh
In case you hadn’t already realized, this novel centered on a real historical figure: Aldfrith of Northumbria. He ruled Northumbria from 685–704/705 AD, and was known as ‘The Philosopher King’.
Aldfrith (whose Irish name was Flann Fína mac Oswiu) was Ecgfrith of Northumbria’s half-brother and King Oswiu’s bastard son. As a young man, Oswiu was exiled to Ireland, where he was said to have fallen in love with an Irish princess. However, when things settled down at home, he left her to return to Northumbria and take up the crown, and he presently remarried … twice.
Aldfrith lived a hermit’s life upon the island of Iona until, with Ecgfrith’s death at the Battle of Dun Nechtain in 685 AD, he was called back to rule. His was supposed to have been a peaceful reign, marred only by a tempestuous relationship with Bishop Wilfrid. He did indeed marry Cuthburh of Wessex, and she did leave him to take up the veil. Aldfrith also had contact with Prior Cuthbert of Lindisfarne. Cuthbert is a minor character in all three books of my Kingdom of Northumbria series. He played a pivotal role in Northumbria’s history, having tried to dissuade Aldfrith’s brother Ecgfrith from going to war against the Picts. Cuthbert, who became one England’s most famous saints after his death in 687 AD, lived upon the Farne Islands as a hermit. Many miracles were attributed to him.
Aldfrith was not just a king but a poet. He wrote a number of maxims (many of which I quote in this novel).
However, there are many gaps in history, and so I have let my imagination fill them in! Historians don’t know who he actually remarried, although there are records of children. As such, I introduced him to Osana—his perfect match. History is also similarly foggy about what caused him to fall out with Bishop Wilfrid in the end and exile him to Mercia. There were rumors that Wilfrid’s constant attempts to expand his interests and his disdain for the northern style of Christianity may have caused a rift between them. I took that one step further!
Aldfrith is a little different to my other heroes. He’s not a warrior but a philosopher—although others learn that they underestimate him at their peril. I saw him as a complex, passionate man who had spent far too long hiding from his true nature. Enter Osana—a woman of quiet indomitable strength.
Glossary of Old English (in alphabetical order)
Cyningtaefl: “King’s Table”, an Anglo-Saxon form of chess
ealdorman: earl
Ēōstre: Easter
fyrd: a king’s army
handfasted: married
heah-setl: high seat (later called a “dais”) for the king and queen
hōre: whore
Lindisfarena: Lindisfarne Island (Holy Island)
nón-mete: midday meal (literally “noon-meat”)
thegn: a king’s retainer
thrymsas: Anglo-Saxon gold shillings
“Wes hāl”: “Greetings” in Old English
wicce: a witch or enchantress
Winterfylleth: Anglo-Saxon Halloween
wyrd: fate
Cast of characters (in alphabetical order)
Aldfrith (Flann Fína mac Oswiu): bastard son of King Oswiu, King of Northumbria
Bishop Wilfrid: bishop of Inhrypum (Ripon)
Cerdic: captain of Aldfrith’s guard
Cuthbert: Prior of the Lindisfarena (Lindisfarne) monastery
Cuthburh of Wessex: Aldfrith’s wife
Deogol: Osana’s brother-by-marriage
Ecgfrith: King of Northumbria
Edlyn: Osana’s sister-by-marriage
Edwin: Aldfrith’s cousin, ealdorman of Gefrin
Eldflaed: thegn’s wife at Bebbanburg
Hagona: Osana’s aunt who lives in Jedworth
Lady Eldrida of Mercia: a Mercian princess
Lora: Osana’s friend and hand-maid
Mildryth: thegn’s wife at Bebbanburg
Osana: wife/widow of Raedwulf of Hagustaldes
Oswald: priest at Bebbanburg
Raedwulf: ealdorman of Hagustaldes
Wulfred: ealdorman of Catraeth
Acknowledgements
Thanks once again, to all my readers … your support and feedback has been amazing!
Over the years I’ve learned that the stories you love best seem to be the really emotional ones—so I hope this one had you reaching for your hankies … it certainly had me tearing up!
Thanks too to my fellow author friends at RWNZ. The conference every August gives me inspiration and ideas without fail, and it reminds me why this is the best job in the world.
And as always I’m eternally grateful to my husband Tim. His support is amazing, and something I never take for granted.
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More works by Jayne Castel
HISTORICAL ROMANCE SET IN DARK AGES BRITAIN
THE KINGDOM OF THE EAST ANGLES
Prequel novella: Night Shadows
Book #1: Dark Under the Cover of Night
Book #2: Nightfall till Daybreak
Book #3: The Deepening Night
The Kingdom of the East Angles: The Complete Series
Click on the banner to find out more about this series.
Get Jayne's FREE Starter Library and read the prequel novella and Books #1 and #2 to her first series, THE KINGDOM OF THE EAST ANGLES: www.jaynecastel.com/home/sign-up
THE KINGDOM OF MERCIA
Book #1: The Breaking Dawn
Book #2: Darkest before Dawn
Book #3: Dawn of Wolves
Click on the banner below to find out more about this series.
THE KINGDOM OF NORTHUMBRIA
Book #1: The Whispering Wind
Book #2: Wind Song
Book #3: Lord of the North Wind
Click on the banner below to find out more about this series.
HISTORICAL ROMANCE SET IN DARK AGES SCOTLAND
THE WARRIOR BROTHERS OF SKYE
Book #1: Blood Feud