Edwin

by Edoardo Albert

  Edwin answered the smile in kind. “No, it would not, perhaps. But the young ones, how fare they?”

  “Ah, that is a different matter,” said Paulinus, his smile broadening. “Little Eanflæd is a delight, and so quick! She is already forming her letters and reading simple Latin. Your son, Ethelhun, and his twin sister Ethelthryd are just beginning, and already they show much aptitude for learning; remarkable in children so young. The baby is still a baby, but I am sure he will be as bright as all your children with the queen.”

  “The queen already knows her letters. I wonder why she did not tell me before?”

  Paulinus coughed politely. “Need you ask, lord? Few men, let alone kings, would wish their wives wiser than they. But the queen’s mother learned her letters in Francia and required that Æthelburh learn them too when she was little. It is a skill that once learned is not easily lost.”

  “It is a skill not easily acquired either.” Edwin rubbed his forehead. “My head aches and my hand too. I will take some food and drink, and then go on.”

  Paulinus nodded his assent. “If you will excuse me, lord, I must try to find your older sons. They were supposed to learn the letters M and N.”

  Edwin peered at the parchment in front of him. “Which are those?”

  Paulinus pointed.

  “Oh. Where am I?”

  Paulinus pointed again, further to the left.

  “Ah.”

  “They are young.”

  “Are the old not supposed to be wise?”

  “Wise, yes. Letter clever, no.”

  Edwin scratched his beard. “My children will know their letters.”

  “Oh, I am sure you will too, lord. It will take some time, that is all.”

  Edwin nodded, and gestured a slave to bring over the ale. Paulinus bowed and left in search of the truant princes, while the king called a delighted scop closer.

  “What were you singing then, Acca?”

  “My lord, it is something new that I have been working on: a tribute to your reign. For now it is said by one and all that it is possible for a woman with babe in arms to walk the length and breadth of your kingdom unharmed and unmolested, so great is your power and authority. Such a thing has not been known since the days of the emperors.”

  Edwin looked sceptical. “I would not want the queen to try walking abroad with our baby in her arms.”

  “Oh no, lord, of course not. But such is the awe and fear in which you are held that thieves and robbers have left this land for fear of your justice to skulk in the north and far west, away from your rule.” Acca pointed at the tufa, the ceremonial standard that stood behind the high table. “The people say the peace of the emperors has returned.”

  “And that is the problem.”

  Scop and king turned to look down the table. Guthlaf sat there, twisting the point of his seax into the wood. Feeling their scrutiny, the warmaster looked up. “I spoke rashly, lord. I am sorry.”

  “No, I want to hear what you have to say.”

  Guthlaf flicked a glance at the scop. “This is not a matter to be made into gossip.”

  “Acca, go and finish what you were composing,” said Edwin.

  The scop gaped. “But I can keep a secret, lord, truly I can…”

  “Acca.”

  The scop sighed. “Yes, lord.”

  Taking his lyre, the scop trailed off, back towards the fire. Guthlaf moved next to the king.

  “What do you speak of?” asked Edwin.

  Guthlaf indicated the great hall with his glance. “The young men are drifting away from us, lord. Now, even for a feast, there are spaces on the benches and cups left unfilled. The young men who used to come to you before, to the ring giver, the king of glory, they come no longer. For what glory is to be found in a kingdom at peace and with a king who has no enemies to fight?”

  Edwin looked out over the scattered groups gathered in the hall, engaging in desultory conversation. “I thought the young men were attaching themselves to Osfrith and Eadfrith.”

  “Those that come to us, yes. But even they are leaving, in twos and threes, moving on to other kingdoms where there is word of battle and glory and riches.”

  Edwin struck his fist into the palm of his hand. “What would you have me do, Guthlaf? Make war on my allies? Slay men who have given me their bond word? What glory would there be in stripping gold from the bodies of men who have accepted me as High King?”

  Guthlaf shrugged. “I do not tell the king what he must do. But I do tell the king what is happening. The young men are going to other kings, where they may get gold.”

  Edwin shook his head. “We have thrown down those who opposed us, or made them allies and received hostages as surety. There is no kingdom left for us to make war upon.”

  “But without war, and the glory and gold war brings, there will be few men coming to us with sword in hand, seeking leave to be your retainers, and many who are here now will leave. Indeed, some have already gone.”

  “Where are they going?”

  “To the far quarters of the land and beyond. Many have taken the whale road and joined the sea kingdoms of the islands at the edge of the world. Others have gone south, to Francia, for the kings of the Franks are generous with gold. Some, though, I have heard whispered, have gone to Mercia.”

  “Mercia? To Cearl? Why would young men looking for glory go to Cearl? They would find more glory in an ale house than with him!”

  “It is Penda they follow. Cearl’s warmaster is waging war on the marches of Mercia against the kingdoms of the Britons, Powys and Gwent, and upon the East Angles and the men of Wessex too. There is much chance for glory there.”

  Edwin stroked his beard in thought. “When Cearl dies, do you think Penda will stand aside in favour of my sons, even though the king has anointed them his heirs?”

  “No, I do not believe he will,” said Guthlaf.

  “Nor do I. But if, as you say, Penda has attracted many young men to his cause, then Cearl will have neither the strength nor the will to remove him.”

  “No, he does not,” said Guthlaf. “Not any more.”

  “Then we will have to remove Penda,” said the king.

  “The question is how,” said Guthlaf.

  “As long as he remains Cearl’s man, we cannot wage war on him, for we would be breaking our faith with Cearl. Then, even with Penda dead, when Cearl dies it will be much harder for Eadfrith to claim the loyalty of the thegns of Mercia.”

  Guthlaf shook his head. “That will be hard enough as things stand. Would the men of Deira or of Bernicia accept a Mercian as their lord, even if he should have Northumbrian blood?”

  “They would if I had anointed him my successor.”

  Guthlaf thought on this. “Yes, maybe they would. So it is important for us that Cearl remains king.”

  “Unfortunately, it is also important for Penda that Cearl remains alive and king for as long as possible, that he might draw men to himself and expand the realm in Cearl’s name, but with his own power in view.” Edwin bent his head in thought. “We must draw Penda away from Cearl, that we might strike.”

  “Or draw Cearl away from Penda…”

  Chapter 3

  “Edwin has requested I attend upon him at York in three months’ time, when the moon returns to full.” King Cearl of Mercia broke the news to his warmaster, Penda, as he broke bread upon the table, his old hands trembling. Penda looked up. He was spooning pottage into his mouth with bread so old and hard it barely dampened beneath the thick soup. The ride back to the great hall at Tamworth had been long and hard, and he was ravenous, but the king’s words stayed his hunger.

  “When did this message come?”

  “Two days past.” Cearl pointed down the hall to where a strange man sat alone, nursing a cup of ale while he looked around the hall. “The messenger awaits
my reply.”

  “Why does Edwin summon you?”

  “Oh, he has not summoned me. Goodness me, no.” Cearl looked at his warmaster. “I am his father-in-law; we are allies and equals. No, this is a request. But I am not sure that I can accede to it, Penda. My bones are old and my limbs have forgotten the strength they once knew. The journey is long and I will suffer for it.”

  “As you are allies, why not ask Edwin to come here? As you say, you are not a subject king, to be summoned at Edwin’s whim.”

  “No, of course not. But as High King, he has summoned all his subject kings to York to appear before him, to swear fealty anew and to offer tribute. I, on the other hand, am requested to appear at my pleasure, as befits his ally and his father-in-law.” The old king beamed with pleasure at the memory of the fulsome way in which Edwin’s messenger had addressed him.

  “That is… fitting,” said Penda. “But think on this, lord: who goes forth and who receives? Should it not be the father, the elder, who receives the son, the younger? Should not Edwin come to you rather than you go to him?”

  Cearl wagged a finger made crooked by the bone-wasting disease of age at Penda, but he smiled as he did so.

  “Ah, I know what you are up to, Penda, and I thank you for it. It does an old man good to think one as young as you still thinks me strong and powerful, the mightiest king in this land, but you know and I know who is High King. It would indeed make my old heart glad to have Edwin come to me, and not me go to him, but such is not the way of this world, even though I be his father and his elder. Edwin has the power, and we must bow to it, as do the other kings in this land. But let us be grateful that he wields his power graciously over us, asking rather than compelling. And since he has given me the choice, I will decline his invitation; I am too old, the journey is too far and the weather too cold for my thin blood. Edwin will understand.” Cearl smiled. “Besides, the High King has already come to me.”

  “This is a wise decision, lord,” said Penda. “If you had asked for my counsel, such would it have been, but although your arm may have weakened, your wit remains sharp.”

  “I will send you in my place.”

  “Me?” Penda’s face blanched for a moment before his habitual control reasserted itself.

  “Of course. Who else can better represent me and Mercia than my warmaster, the man who has increased Mercia’s bounds and wrung tribute from the petty kings on our borders? There is another reason for me to send you: it would be good for you and Eadfrith to meet and become friends, for he shall be king in this land when I am dead, and you his warmaster. There needs must be no gap between the shields of king and warmaster, lest the wall break and the enemy win through.”

  Penda nodded. “Of course. I see now, and again your wisdom, lord, is a beacon and a lesson to me. But I have an idea too: tell Edwin’s messenger that you will come. Then the High King will have no reason to rebuke you, for you show by your answer that you are most willing to attend him and the other kings. But when the time comes, I shall go in your place and explain that age and ill health have made it impossible for you to travel. With all the other kings attending him, Edwin will have no choice but to accept the explanation, and I will be able to sit among kings and princes and make my peace with Eadfrith, your grandson, that I may serve him as well as I have served you.”

  Cearl patted Penda’s hand. “You are wise for one so young. Let it be done as you have said; we shall give our reply to Edwin’s messenger. But before I do so, tell me something else. Who is the companion you brought into hall? My eyes are old, I know, but I do not recognize him.”

  “Your eyes may be old, lord, but they are as sharp as your wits. I will call him to you.” Penda gestured and the cloaked man got up from where he had been sitting among a party of retainers lower down the hall, and approached the high table.

  “King Cearl, this is my friend and cousin, Dial.”

  Chapter 4

  Paulinus found the king standing by the sea. He was staring out at the islands that crouched low to the water. The priest stopped behind the king and waited in silence. The last light of the day was draining away in the west, but the eastern sea was already dark, and only the white of breaking waves showed where islands began and sea ended. A bird wailed, its call echoing over the water.

  “This was Æthelfrith’s land; I thought it had become mine, but I was wrong. I am still a stranger here.” The king spoke without turning round.

  “I am sorry.” Paulinus stepped forward so that he was level with Edwin, but the king kept staring out to sea.

  “How is the queen?”

  “She – she sleeps now, lord.”

  “Good.” Edwin nodded, but it was as if a puppeteer moved his head up and down. “That is good. Sleep will help.”

  “Yes. Her women are with her. They will be there when she wakes.”

  “Make sure Eanflæd is with her, and Wuscfrea. She will need them then.”

  “And you, lord, what will you need?”

  Edwin stared into the dark over the sea. “I am a king. Death is familiar to me.”

  “I am a priest. I too know death. But it is the last enemy that shall be vanquished and until that time we live in its shadow.”

  “These past five years, since I found new life, I thought I had escaped death’s shadow. For it has lain over me since I was a boy and Æthelfrith killed my father. Through my years of exile, death sniffed around me, as a hound on the scent, and it took Cwenburg, Osfrith’s and Eadfrith’s mother. Then, when I came into my kingdom, death reached out for me again, but Forthred put himself in its way and took the blow meant for me. But since I emerged from the water and entered into new life, death has passed me by. I thought maybe the God who died and lives again had given his life to us. I was wrong.”

  “Death will only be defeated finally when Christ returns to claim his kingdom.”

  “When will that be?” Edwin glanced at Paulinus. His gaze was bleak and cold.

  “I – I do not know, lord.”

  “Who does?”

  “Only God.”

  Edwin nodded. “Counsel shared is counsel known.” He looked to the sea again.

  Paulinus waited beside him, but the king said no more.

  “Would you prefer that I leave you alone, lord?”

  Edwin made no reply and Paulinus turned to walk back to the rock of Bamburgh when the king spoke.

  “It is hard to lose one child, Paulinus, but to lose the twins so close to each other… that is hard indeed for the queen.”

  “And for you, lord,” said Paulinus, turning back to the king.

  “And for me. I have been fortunate; both my sons with Cwenburg are grown and healthy. Eanflæd can ride and knows her letters; a brighter child I have not seen. Little Wuscfrea does well too. When so many children die with their milk teeth still in their mouth, I have been blessed. Until today.”

  The priest spread his hands. “I have no words, lord. Only prayer. And hope.”

  “Hope. What hope?” asked the king. “Only the shadows wait them.”

  “No!” Paulinus said. “No,” more softly. “There you speak with the tongue of the old religion. The old gods loved warriors alone, and gathered only the battleslain to their halls. But our God gathers children around him and calls them to him. He has called them to him now and, washed white in the waters of baptism, the twins are with him; they are with him now, lord, in heaven, not lost in the shadows of the underworld.”

  Edwin tilted his head back and stared up at the blank sky. The clouds had closed again and no star could be seen.

  “I am their father – they should be with me.”

  “Yes, lord, they should be. But God overfathers all, and he has called these children back to his realm. Would not a king under you come when you summoned him, in fear and trembling? Lord, I was there when they died, and Ethelhun and Ethelthryd
did not go in fear, but in peace, and the joy in the face of death that I have seen only in children.”

  “Will I see them again, Paulinus?”

  “Yes, lord, yes. You will be with them in paradise.”

  “I pray that may be so. But there is much blood upon my hands; so much blood that I fear even the blood Christ shed shall not be enough to wash it off.”

  “Christ’s blood washes us all clean if we but stand before his cross.”

  “I don’t know where his cross is.”

  “You stand before it now, lord.”

  The king fell silent. The priest stood beside him, head lowered in prayer.

  “Leave me, Paulinus.”

  The priest bowed and withdrew, leaving the king to the silence of wind and beach and sea.

  Chapter 5

  The stevedores at York had not seen such a flotilla in all their days – the boats lined the quay, lashed three or even four deep, while ashore restless pickets of horses needed constant minding and guarding. Kings from the length and breadth of the land had gathered in York at the High King’s command, and such gold and silver, such fine weapons and gleaming helmets had not been seen in the city since the day when the new emperor was proclaimed within its walls. Men and women and children had come from the farms for miles around to see the spectacle and to marvel at the press of people; so many that in places it was necessary to turn sideways and squeeze past chattering, pointing knots of sightseers.

  But most extraordinary of all, the kings had gathered on the far bank of the River Ouse, across the water from York. Tents and pavilions were set up there hastily, and provisions rowed across the river, while gossiping villagers wondered what it all might mean and harassed slaves attempted to find ground dry enough to light fires in the sodden, alder-fringed water meadows of the east bank of the river.

  “Father, we cannot wait any longer for Cearl.”

  Eadfrith entered the tent where Edwin, Osfrith and Guthlaf sheltered from the thin, persistent rain. Water drained off his cloak and trickled between the rushes strewn on the floor, but such had been the wetness of the season that liquid squelched up over any foot that walked upon them.