He had the gift, I thought. Men liked him. He looked like a king, of course, and that helped, but Æthelstan added his own elegance to the crown. Now, riding to hawk, he wore a simple gold circlet that glinted in the weak sunlight. His horse, a tall grey stallion, was caparisoned with soft leather embossed with golden badges, his spurs were gold, while his long black cloak was hemmed with golden thread. I looked at the men’s faces and saw they were pleased their king had stopped to talk with them. They grinned, they smiled, they laughed at his words. They knew the rumours, who did not? Rumours that said their king refused to marry and preferred the company of young good-looking men, but they did not mind because Æthelstan looked like a king, because he had led them in battle and had proven that he was as brave and as hard a fighter as any of his warriors, and because he liked them. He trusted them. He was joking with them now, and they cheered him.
‘He’s good.’ Ealdred had edged his horse close to mine.
‘He always was,’ I said, still looking at Æthelstan.
There was an awkward pause, then Ealdred cleared his throat. ‘I should apologise to you, lord.’
‘You should?’
‘Last night, lord, I did not know who you were.’
‘Now you do,’ I said curtly, and spurred my horse forward.
I was behaving badly. I knew that, but could not prevent myself. There were too many secrets, too many ambitious men who had their eyes on Northumbria, and I am a Northumbrian. I am Jarl Uhtred of Northumbria, and my ancestors had taken this land from the British and we had held it against them, against the Danes and against the Norsemen. Now, I knew, I must hold it again, but against whom?
I turned my horse, ignoring Ealdred, and saw that Egil was deep in conversation with Ingilmundr, a fellow Norseman, and Ingilmundr saw me looking towards them and bowed his head. I did not respond, but noticed the big golden cross hanging at his chest. Finan joined me. ‘Learned anything?’ he asked quietly.
‘Nothing.’
‘I’ve learned,’ he said quietly, ‘that Ingilmundr has been baptised.’
‘I saw the cross.’
‘You can’t miss it! You could crucify a sheep on that cross. And he says he’ll lead all the Norse of Wirhealum to Ceaster to be baptised too.’
‘Ceaster,’ I said bleakly.
‘Because Bishop Oswald has convinced them of the truth,’ Finan said tonelessly. He knew better than to say the bishop was my son. ‘And perhaps he has?’ Finan added sceptically. I grunted. Pagans did convert, of course, Bishop Oda was proof of that, but I trusted Ingilmundr about as much as I would trust a starving wolf in a sheepfold. ‘Ingilmundr told me,’ Finan went on, ‘that we are all Ænglisc now.’
‘We are?’
‘I thought you’d be pleased.’
I laughed, though without much humour, and Æthelstan, coming back to us, heard me. ‘You’re cheerful, Lord Uhtred.’
‘Always in your company, lord King,’ I said sourly.
‘And Finan, my old friend! How are you?’ Æthelstan did not wait for an answer. ‘Let’s ride north! Lord Uhtred, you’ll keep me company?’
We crossed the Eamotum’s ford and pounded north on soggy turf beside the straight Roman road. Æthelstan, once away from the camp, had summoned a servant to take the hawk from his wrist. ‘He doesn’t like to fly in damp weather,’ he explained to me, but I sensed he had not intended to hunt anyway. More mounted men had joined us, all in scarlet cloaks, all in mail, all helmeted and all carrying shields and heavy spears. Groups of them scattered in front of us, scouting the higher ground, making a wide cordon around the king who led me up a slight grassy rise to where ancient turf walls made a crude square. There were low masonry walls at one corner, the old stones thick with weeds and lichen. ‘Probably a Roman camp,’ Æthelstan explained as he dismounted. ‘Walk with me!’
His scarlet-cloaked protectors surrounded the old camp, but only he and I walked the wet turf enclosed by the decayed walls. ‘What did Hywel say last night?’ he asked me without any small talk first.
I was surprised at the abruptness, but gave him a true answer that he was probably pleased to hear. ‘That he’ll keep his treaty with you.’
‘So he will, so he will.’ He paused and half frowned. ‘At least I think he will.’
‘But you were harsh with him, lord King.’
‘Harsh?’ He sounded surprised.
‘He told me he pays twenty-four pounds of gold, three hundred of silver, and ten thousand head of cattle a year.’
‘So he does.’
‘Can’t Christian kings make peace without a price?’
‘It isn’t a price,’ he explained. ‘We are an island under assault. The Norse flood into the Irish Sea, their fleets come with the north wind and their warriors seek our land. Wales is a small land, a vulnerable land, and their coasts have already been assailed. That money, Lord Uhtred, pays for the spears that will defend them.’
‘Your spears?’
‘Mine indeed! Didn’t Hywel tell you? If his land is attacked then we will defend it. I am making a Christian peace, an alliance of Christian nations against the pagan north, and war costs money.’
‘Yet your peace demands that the weak pay the strong. Shouldn’t you be paying Hywel to keep his own army strong?’
Æthelstan appeared to ignore that question. He paced on, frowning. ‘We are an island and an attack on one Christian kingdom is an attack on all. There has to be a leader, and God has decreed that we are the largest kingdom, the strongest, and so we will lead the defence against whatever pagans come to ravage the island.’
‘So if the Norse land in northern Alba,’ I suggested, ‘you will march to fight them?’
‘If Constantine cannot defeat them? Of course!’
‘So Hywel and Constantine are paying for their own protection?’
‘Why shouldn’t they?’
‘They didn’t ask for it,’ I said harshly, ‘you imposed it on them.’
‘Because they lack vision. This peace I’m forging is for their own good.’ He had led me to the low masonry walls where he sat, inviting me to join him. ‘In time they will understand that.’ He paused as if expecting an answer, but when I said nothing, he became agitated. ‘Why do you think I called this gathering in Burgham?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘This is Cumbria!’ He waved a hand glinting with jewel-studded rings. ‘This is Saxon land, our land, it was captured by our ancestors and for centuries it has been farmed by our people. There are churches and monasteries, roads and markets, yet in all Britain there isn’t a more lawless place! How many Norse live here now? How many Danes! Owain of Strath Clota claims it as his own, Constantine has even dared name a man to rule it! Yet what country is it? It is Northumbria!’ He stressed the last three words, slapping a stone as he said each one. ‘And what has Northumbria done to drive out the invaders? Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!’
‘I lost good men defeating Sköll Grimmarson at Heahburh,’ I said fiercely, ‘and there was no help from Mercia or Wessex then! Maybe because I hadn’t paid them?’
‘Lord, lord!’ he said soothingly. ‘No one doubts your courage. No one disputes the debt we owe you. Indeed I came to pay that debt.’
‘By invading Northumbria?’ I was still angry. ‘Something you swore not to do in my lifetime!’
‘And you swore to kill Æthelhelm the Elder,’ he said quietly, ‘and you didn’t. Other men did.’
I just stared at him. What he had said was true, but it was also outrageous. Æthelhelm died because I had defeated his men, slaughtered his champion, and put his troops to flight. Æthelstan had helped, of course, but he could only join the fight because I had held and given him Lundene’s Crepelgate.
‘An oath is an oath,’ he still spoke quietly, but with a firm authority. ‘You swore to kill a man, you didn’t, so the oath is invalid.’ He held up a hand to still my protest, ‘And it is decreed that an oath with a pagan has no force. Only oaths sworn on Christ and his sai
nts can bind us.’ Again he held up his hand. ‘But I have still come to pay the debt I owe you.’
One man, even the Lord of Bebbanburg, cannot fight the army of three kingdoms. I felt betrayed, I was betrayed, but I managed to bite down on my anger. ‘The debt,’ I said.
‘In a moment, lord, in a moment.’ He stood and began pacing in the small space enclosed by the ruined walls. ‘Cumbria is lawless, you agree?’
‘It is.’
‘Yet it is a part of Northumbria, is it not?’
‘It is.’
‘And Northumbria is an Ænglisc kingdom, yes?’
I was still getting used to that word, just as I was becoming accustomed to the name Englaland. There were some who preferred Saxonland, but the West Saxons, who were leading the efforts to unite all speakers of the Ænglisc tongue preferred Englaland. It encompassed not just the Saxons, but those who were Angles or Jutes. We would no longer be Saxons or Angles, but Ænglisc.
‘Northumbria is Ænglisc,’ I admitted.
‘Yet now more men in Cumbria speak the northern tongues than speak our language!’
I hesitated, then shrugged. ‘A good number do.’
‘I went hawking three days ago, stopped to talk with a forester. Man spoke Norse! I could have been speaking Welsh for all he knew, and this in an Ænglisc country!’
‘His children will speak our tongue,’ I pointed out.
‘Damn his children! They’ll be raised pagan!’
I let that statement rest a moment, watching Æthelstan pace. He was mostly right. Northumbria had rarely exercised power over Cumbria, even though it was a part of the kingdom, and the Norse, seeing weakness, were landing on the coast and building steadings in the valleys. They paid no money to Eoferwic, and it was only the powerful burhs on the Mercian frontier that deterred them from raiding deep into Æthelstan’s land. And it was not just the Norse who sensed the weakness of Cumbria. Strath Clota, that lay on Cumbria’s northern border, dreamed of taking the land, as did Constantine.
As did Æthelstan. ‘If you dislike the Norse,’ I said, ‘and want Cumbria to be Ænglisc, then why keep Guthfrith as king in Eoferwic?’
‘You don’t like him.’
‘He’s a foul man.’
Æthelstan nodded, then sat again to face me. ‘My first duty, lord, is not to kill the Norse, though God knows I’ll slaughter every last one if it is His will. My first duty is to convert them.’ He paused, waiting for me to speak, but I said nothing. ‘My grandfather,’ he went on, ‘taught me that those who are Christ’s servants are neither Saxon nor Norse, neither Angle nor Dane, but live united in Christ. Look at Ingilmundr! Once a Norseman and a pagan, but now a Christian who renders service to me, his king.’
‘And one who met Anlaf Guthfrithson on the island of Mön,’ I put in harshly.
‘On my orders,’ Æthelstan retorted immediately, ‘and why not? I sent Ingilmundr to deliver a warning to Anlaf, that if his ambitions stretch to this island I will flay his skin and tan it to make myself a saddle. I trust the warning worked, because I know Anlaf is tempted by Cumbria.’
‘Everyone is,’ I said, ‘including you, lord King.’
‘But if the pagans of Cumbria can be converted,’ he went on, ‘then they will fight for their Christian king, not for some pagan adventurer from Ireland. Yes, Guthfrith is a foul man, but Christ’s grace is working through him! He has agreed to be baptised. He has agreed to let me place burhs in Cumbria, garrisoned with my troops who will shelter the brave priests who will preach to the unconverted. He has agreed that two Saxon ealdormen will rule in Cumbria, Godric and Alfgar, and their troops will protect our priests. The pagans will listen to Guthfrith, he is one of them, he speaks their tongue. I have told him he must deliver a Christian Cumbria to me if he is to stay king. And think what would happen if Guthfrith were to die.’
‘Women would be safer.’
Æthelstan ignored that. ‘That family may rule in Ireland, but they believe their destiny is to rule both Dyflin and Eoferwic. If Guthfrith dies then Anlaf will try to take Northumbria. He will claim it as his birthright. Better to endure a drunken fool than fight a talented warrior.’
I frowned at him. ‘Why not just kill Guthfrith and declare yourself king? Why not say Northumbria no longer exists, that it’s all Englaland now?’
‘Because I’m already the king here, because this,’ he thumped a foot on the turf, ‘is already Englaland! Guthfrith has sworn loyalty to me, I’m his overlord, but if I remove him then I risk revenge from his Irish family, and if the Irish Norse attack in the west I suspect Constantine will attack in the east. And then the Norse in Cumbria and the Danes of all Northumbria will be tempted to side with the invaders. Even the Welsh! Despite Hywel’s promise. None of them like us! We’re the Sais and they fear our power, they want to diminish us, and a war between us and all our enemies will be a more terrible war than any that even my grandfather fought. I don’t want that to happen. I want to impose order on Northumbria. I don’t want more chaos and bloodshed! And by keeping Guthfrith, and by keeping him on a tight rein, I will convert the northern pagans into law-abiding Christian folk and persuade our enemies that Northumbria is not an opportunity for ambitious men. I want a peaceful, prosperous, Christian island.’
‘Ruled by Englaland,’ I said grimly.
‘Ruled by Almighty God! But if God decrees that Englaland is the most powerful kingdom in Britain then yes, Englaland must lead.’
‘And to achieve that,’ I still spoke sourly, ‘you’re relying on a drunken fool to convert us pagans?’
‘And to keep Anlaf at bay, yes.’
‘And you told the drunken fool to demand tribute from me.’
‘You live in his land, why should you not contribute to his treasury? Why should you not swear an oath of loyalty to him? You live in Northumbria, do you not?’ I was so shocked at his suggestion that I should swear loyalty to Guthfrith that I said nothing, though my indignation must have been stark on my face. ‘Are you above the law, Lord Uhtred?’ Æthelstan asked sternly.
‘Guthfrith has no law,’ I snapped. ‘And pay him tribute? Why should I pay for his ale and his whores?’
‘Lord Ealdred will keep a garrison in Eoferwic. He will ensure your silver is spent wisely. And as for the oath? It will be an example to others.’
‘Damn the others,’ I said angrily, then turned on him belligerently. ‘I hear that Lord Ealdred,’ I almost spat the name, ‘was made an ealdorman.’
‘He was.’
‘Ealdorman of what?’
Æthelstan hesitated. ‘Northumbria,’ he finally said.
I had believed him till that moment. He had spoken urgently and passionately, driven by ambition, yes, but also by a genuine faith in his god, but that one-word answer was evasive and I challenged it harshly. ‘I’m the Ealdorman of Northumbria.’
He smiled, recovering his equanimity. ‘But a lawless country needs authority and authority flows from the king through his nobility. This king,’ he touched the gold cross at his breast, ‘has decided that Northumbria needs more than one ealdorman if it is to be tamed. Lords Godric and Alfgar in the west and two more, you and Lord Ealdred, in the east. But before you protest remember that I have come to pay you a debt.’
‘The best payment is to leave me alone,’ I growled. ‘I’m old, I’ve fought since your grandfather’s day. I have a good woman, a good home, and I need nothing more.’
‘But suppose I was to give you all of Wiltunscir?’ he asked. I just stared at him, astonished, and said nothing. He looked back at me and it seemed impossible that I had raised him, protected him, even loved him as a son. He had a confidence so far removed from the boy I remembered. He was a king now and his ambition embraced the whole island of Britain, maybe further. ‘Wiltunscir,’ he said again, ‘is one of the richest shires in Englaland. You can have it, lord, and with it the greatest part of Æthelhelm’s estates.’ Again I said nothing. Æthelhelm the Younger, Ealdorman of Wiltunscir, had been my enemy and the
man who had challenged Æthelstan’s right to the throne of Wessex. Æthelhelm had lost, and had died losing, and his wealth had passed to the king. It was a vast wealth and Æthelstan had offered me most of it; the great estates spread across three kingdoms, the towering halls, the forests full of game, the pastures and orchards, the towns with their prosperous merchants. And all of it, or most of it, had just been offered to me. ‘After the king,’ Æthelstan said, smiling, ‘you will be the greatest lord in Englaland.’
‘You’d give all that to a pagan?’ I asked.
He smiled. ‘Forgive me, lord, but you are old. You may enjoy the wealth for a season or two, and then your son will inherit, and your son is a Christian.’
‘Which son?’ I demanded sharply.
‘The one you call Uhtred, of course. He’s not here?’
‘I left him in command at Bebbanburg.’
‘I like him!’ he said enthusiastically. ‘I always liked him!’
‘You grew up together.’
‘We did, we did! I like both your boys.’
‘I only have one son.’
Æthelstan ignored that. ‘And I can’t imagine your eldest wanting to inherit wealth. Bishop Oswald doesn’t want worldly riches, just God’s grace.’
‘Then he’s a most unusual churchman,’ I snarled.
‘He is, and he’s a good man, lord.’ He paused. ‘I value his counsel.’
‘He hates me.’
‘And whose fault is that?’
I grunted. The less I talked of Bishop Oswald, the better. ‘And what do you get in return for the wealth of Wiltunscir?’ I asked instead.
He hesitated a heartbeat, then, ‘You know what I want.’
‘Bebbanburg.’
He held up both hands. ‘Say nothing, lord! Say nothing now! But yes, I want Bebbanburg.’
I obeyed his command to say nothing, and was glad to obey because my immediate reaction was to refuse angrily. I am a Northumbrian and my life had been dedicated to regaining Bebbanburg, but in the wake of that impulse came other thoughts. He was offering me so much wealth, Benedetta would have the comforts she deserved for ever, and my son would inherit a fortune. Æthelstan must have guessed my confusion because he had held up his hands to silence me. He did not want my impulsive answer, he wanted me to think.
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