“Yes, but we stand to them as a thegn stands to you, although the only service the gods require of us is sacrifice.”
Penda nodded. “When this winter ends, we must see to gaining more gold, that we shall have more to sacrifice to the gods. It seems to me that the gods best favour those who win victory. And there is a kingdom that is ripe, waiting ready for us to pluck its golden fruit.”
Brother Diuma, listening, could not help but blanch. Penda, seeing that, laughed.
“No, not Northumbria. I gave my word to Oswald not to attack him, and that word I keep. But I did not pledge to take his allies as my own, else there would be none I might ravage. And what better kingdom to ravage than one whose king has abandoned it to become a monk?”
*
“A son and now a daughter.” Eowa rode beside Oswald as the royal party made the long, slow progress from Tadcaster to Leeds. “That is fine news indeed.”
“Yes,” said Oswald.
“Will we see the new baby?”
“Not yet. Oswiu sent word that it was a difficult delivery, and the baby is sickly. They remain on the marches, travelling as little as possible.”
Eowa nodded. “Of course. It is what I would do.”
“What do you mean?”
“My brother has not yet wed, although he has many concubines and there must I suppose by now be one or two whelps. If I had married and had children before he, I would have sought to remain upon the marches of Mercia, far from my brother, until I was sure of his intentions.”
“Oswiu knows my intentions.”
“But does the princess Rhieienmelth? Oft times a woman may change in heart when she has children of her own, and gives thought to their inheritance. Now, if you should die childless, it would be your brother who would take the throne, and his children after him. What woman, what mother, would not think on this?”
“Rhieienmelth is not like that.”
“Mayhap she is not. But then she truly is as singular a woman as my lord thinks her to be.”
“I believe she is. And my brother knows my heart.”
“And you his, I am sure.” Eowa looked back along the column of wagons. “Where is the queen?”
“She travels with her women.”
“Ah, yes, I see them. They are playing.”
“She – she likes to play.”
“As is right in one so young.”
“Cyniburh is not so young any more.”
“Is she not?”
“No. No, she isn’t.”
“Of course, if you were to have a child, a son, say, it would make things clearer. Certainly your brother would be ætheling still, but the longer you reign – ”
“You mean, the longer I live,” Oswald interrupted, his glance bleak.
“The longer you hold the throne, then the more throne-worthy becomes your son. As he comes to manhood, first the warriors of your household and then the witan will get to know him and then, when the time comes, he will be able to call upon their support.”
“Think you I do not know this?”
“Of course, lord.” Eowa directed his horse closer to Oswald. “I have heard rumour that you, ah, yet wait, lord.”
“Where did you hear this?”
“The queen’s women, they talk, lord.”
“Women’s talk. You should know better than to listen.”
Eowa nodded. “Of course you are right, lord. Still, it has been a while since you married.”
“We will have children when God wills.”
“Of course. Let us hope he wills for you to have them soon.”
“Yes.”
“Have you seen how she holds babies, ever since that time she held Princess Rhieienmelth’s child? She is as one who longs to hold her own child.”
“So she has told me. And she will, when God wishes and the time is right.”
“Maybe – and I speak now as one who has come to think of you as friend as well as lord – maybe the time comes soon.”
“Maybe. Maybe.” And Oswald looked back along the column and saw his wife. She, feeling his glance, looked to him and smiled.
Oswald nodded and smiled in answer. As he turned back in his saddle, seeing the first sign of the royal estate, he felt the blood stir in him as it had not for her before. No, she was not so young any more. It was time he had a child. And Rhieienmelth was far from him…
Chapter 4
“I am sorry.”
Oswald looked up from the squirming bundle of baby, still blood- streaked from birth, its mouth wide and howling, into the face of the midwife holding it. It was an old face, creased and weathered brown, with lines of laughter scored into the flesh. But there was no laughter now, only tears, running silently down her cheeks until they fell into the channels of her face and ran to her mouth. He held fast against the sorrow he saw, refusing to acknowledge it. He held out his arms and she put the screaming baby into his embrace.
“A boy,” she said, and he held the infant to him and breathed into his face, and his eyes, wide and staring at this new world, rolled to him for an instant, dark, almost black.
“I am sorry,” the midwife said again, and Oswald looked at her and the question came, though he would rather not have spoken it, not for anything in this world. “Whereof are you sorry?” he asked. “I have a son.”
“The queen…”
And Oswald took his son and walked out into the night dark outside the hall and saw not the stars, nor the moon, nor the lights of his hall, but only the face of his wife, of Cyniburh, as she lay beneath him, hair spread upon the pillow, and she cried for joy that she was wife at last.
“You were not ready.” Oswald looked down into the face beneath him, searching for Cyniburh in it, but he could not see her.
“You were too young. I should have waited longer.”
“Brother…”
Oswald made no move.
Slowly, gently, Oswiu came to stand beside him. Oswald turned to him fiercely, his face afire.
“Swear to me,” he said, “swear to me you will care for this boy as your own when I die. Swear it.”
“Of course. Of course I swear it.”
“Put your hand upon him, swear it; I want to hear you say it.”
Oswiu put his hand as gently as he could upon the head of the boy, still wet from birth. “I swear to care for this boy as my own, should you die.”
Oswald stared at him. “We all die, brother, we all die.”
“It was not your fault. She was of age.”
“If I had waited a year longer, she might have had strength enough to give birth and live.”
Oswiu put his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “It is not your fault.”
“I am king, and her husband. Who else bears responsibility?”
“God.” Oswiu held his brother tight as he seemed to jerk away from him. “No, hear me. He is the Lord of life and death. He has taken Cyniburh and we no more know why than we know what lies beneath the sea or beyond the stars or in men’s hearts. He has taken her, who gave her. Would you call her back from her Lord?”
“Yes,” whispered Oswald. “Yes.”
The baby, quiet for a few minutes, sent up a thin, reedy wail.
“We must find him a wet nurse,” said Oswiu. “Come. Come with me, brother.” And leading Oswald like a child, Oswiu brought him back to the hall, where the midwife waited with a wet nurse, a cheerful, smiling woman whose cheer could scarce be quenched even in a hall where the queen lay newly dead.
“Give him here,” she said, holding out her hands, and Oswiu took the infant from his brother and gave him to her.
“There, there, my poor little one,” she said.
“Now, let’s be giving you something to drink.”
Oswald stood, dumbly staring after his son as he nestled against the wet nurse.
“Come.” A hand took his and Oswald looked round to see Rhieienmelth. He looked down. She was holding his hand. He looked up and saw that she wept too. And without thought, he s
tepped to her and lay his head upon her shoulder, and she folded him in her arms and soothed him.
Oswiu, seeing them thus, turned away.
“He will be all right?” he asked the wet nurse.
“He’ll be fine,” she said. “He’s a bonnie little fellow.”
Oswiu glanced back, but his brother still clung to Rhieienmelth, and he looked away once more.
“I – I will go and send word to Aidan. She will need to be buried.”
As he stepped out of the hall, Eowa fell into step beside him. “May I come too? I may be of help; your brother will need you soon, and your wife, and I can send the message for you.”
Oswiu looked back. “Rhieienmelth seems to manage well on her own at the moment.” He stepped from the hall, Eowa beside him. “Come, let us find a messenger; he must set forth today.”
They set out across the compound for the stables, which were housed away from the hall, and the enclosure where tribute animals – cattle, sheep, pigs – were brought before slaughter.
“I’ve promised to care for him as my own,” Oswiu said.
“The baby?” asked Eowa, a note of incredulity in his voice.
“Yes. Oswald asked me.”
“Already?”
“It was the first thing he asked of me.”
“That – that is most forbearing of you.”
“How do you mean?”
“That if the king should die you will be sworn to promote his son as your own for the throne.”
“Yes,” said Oswiu. “I know.”
“Let us hope the king does not die for many years.”
“Yes.”
“Have you told the princess Rhieienmelth of this yet?”
“No! Of course not. What chance has there been for talk?”
“Of course. I am sorry. I could see she was busy.”
Oswiu looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“She was comforting the king. As we all must do in his grief at the loss of his wife.”
“It is not just grief. He blames himself for her death.”
“The king takes everything upon himself.”
“He does. Let’s see if anyone is awake.” Oswiu roused a sleeping boy from a snooze atop a pile of hay and sent him to find one of the messengers whose task it was, first, to ride ahead to the next estate that the royal household was due to visit to warn them of their arrival in plenty of time and, secondly, to be on hand to take messages to whomsoever the king wished to communicate with.
The message given and the horseman making ready, Oswiu and Eowa turned back to the hall.
“Of course, with the queen now dead, the king will be free to make alliance with another of the great kingdoms of the land.”
Oswiu looked at Eowa. “I do not think that is what he thinks on now.”
“No, of course it is not. But it should be uppermost in our minds, as his counsellors. Then when the king is more ready, we may speak with him and present our thoughts.”
Oswiu stopped and turned, crossing his arms over his chest. “Since you already seem to have thought on this, what are your ideas?”
“I know.” Eowa held up his hands. “I know, it seems I have the heart of a fox to be thinking on this and the queen barely dead; but it is the task appointed to a counsellor to keep cool mind when all around turn to grief, or joy, or some other emotion. Can you blame me for doing what is my task?”
“Speak then. Let me hear your thoughts.”
Eowa held up his hands and began counting off with his fingers. “These are the great kingdoms of the Angles and the Saxons: Northumbria, Kent, the land of the East Angles, the land of the West Saxons, the land of the East Saxons and the land of the South Saxons. And Mercia, the kingdom of the Middle Angles. Although Cyniburh has died, the alliance with the West Saxons will surely remain secure. Any of the other kingdoms would be glad to make alliance with Northumbria.”
“Any of the other kingdoms? Mercia too?”
Eowa shrugged. “Who knows? The humiliation you imposed upon my brother was very great but he still holds his throne, and seeks advantage for it. He has no daughter by a wife as yet, but soon he must take wife and, judging by the whelps he has sired, it will not be long before he brings forth children. But would you want alliance with him?”
Oswiu shook his head. “I would not trust Penda.”
Eowa grimaced. “To my cost, I have learned that to be a wise policy. But if not Mercia, all the other kingdoms would want to join with you; and the more alliances you make, the tighter the net you draw around the only kingdom that remains a threat to you: Mercia.”
Oswiu nodded. “It is a shame we can add only one more to us.”
“It is indeed. If your brother had but waited before seeking marriage for you, you might have married the daughter of one of the great kingdoms yourself; for such is the fame of Oswiu, warmaster of Northumbria, that any king would as happily pledge his daughter to you as to Oswald. But,” Eowa shrugged, “Rheged was once great.”
Oswiu turned away. “We did not know the way of things then.”
“No, that is true. No man knows what the fate weavers will bring…”
Oswiu looked back at Eowa. “There’s a ‘but’ there. What is it?”
Eowa held his hands up.
“Well?” asked Oswiu.
“Only that since no man knows what the fate weavers will weave, it behoves a man to delay taking wife until he knows where he stands, and what advantage his marriage might bring. It is a shame your brother did not hold to this for you.”
“I would have no other wife than Rhieienmelth.”
“Of course not. Still, if it should ever prove necessary, it is not unknown for a king to put aside a wife for another, if she should bring greater advantage to his kingdom.”
“I am not a king.”
“No, so as long as you are not, it will not apply.” Eowa smiled. “There is therefore nothing to consider.”
“I wasn’t considering it.”
Eowa turned to the hall. “We should return. The king will have need of his brother. And we should find out the name of his son.”
*
“Æthelwald.”
Oswald watched as Aidan poured water over his son’s head.
The monk had come as fast as he could when the message reached him. On arrival, Aidan had first buried Cyniburh, laying her in a stone-lined pit. Oswald had stood beside her as she was laid out in it wearing the clothes she had worn for their wedding.
Then, with due paid to the dead, came time for the living: the baptism of Oswald’s son.
“Ego te baptizo in nomine Patris…”
The baby put up a scream as the liquid descended on his head, the cry ascending to anger, and then outrage, as the water flowed over his head again: “…et Filii…” and for the final time: “…et Spiritus Sancti”.
Aidan handed the baby to his slightly startled godfather, Oswiu, who looked around to see who might take the screaming bundle from him. Rhieienmelth reached for the baby and Oswiu gave him to her, but though she soothed him, Æthelwald continued to scream.
Rhieienmelth looked up and saw Oswald looking at her. “He wants feeding,” she said.
“Where is that wet nurse?” Oswiu looked around for the woman, but she was nowhere to be seen in the small wooden church that the king had had put up in the royal compound.
“I have milk,” said Rhieienmelth. “I can feed him.”
Before Oswiu could say anything, Oswald nodded. “Please,” he said.
The princess turned aside and put the baby to her breast. Oswiu looked at her, saw his brother staring, then looked away.
“Daddy, Daddy.”
Oswiu looked down to see his own son holding up his arms to him. He bent down and swept him up.
“Sasa?” he asked, pointing towards his mother and the baby she was holding.
“No, that’s not your sister; that’s your cousin.”
“Sasa?” the child repeated.
“No, cou
sin. Æthelwald.” Oswiu looked to his wife. She was still nursing the baby. “We will go to the hall,” he said.
Rhieienmelth looked up. “Yes.”
Oswiu’s mouth tightened but he said no more, instead leaving the church, carrying his son in his arms. Aidan watched him go, then turned a worried gaze to Oswald. Going to the king, he took his arm.
“We should bring the baby to the hall,” he said. “Rhieienmelth, it would be best that we find his wet nurse.”
The princess looked up from the contented baby. “He’s asleep now,” she said.
“Then bring him,” said Aidan.
As they walked across the compound to the hall, Aidan turned to Oswald.
“How will you raise him now his…”
“Now his mother is dead?”
“I would that it were not so.”
“He is my first son. I would have him with me.”
“Wait. Think on this.” Aidan nodded ahead to where Rhieienmelth was about to enter the hall. “Already this child has brought strain between you and your brother.”
“Oswiu swore to care for Æthelwald as his own should I die. And you see how Rhieienmelth cares for him too.”
“Yes, I saw. And so did your brother. Old friend, there is danger in this. Ever the greatest strength of your kingdom has been the unity that exists between you and your brother. Should that unity be damaged or torn asunder…” Aidan shook his head. “To the days of our forefather Adam, there has ever been danger between brothers, but I had not thought to see such enmity arise between you who were always closest.”
“There is no enmity between us.” Oswald’s voice was low and flat, and his expression brooked no argument. “None.”
Aidan made to answer, then sighed. “Very well. I pray that you are right. But please, I ask you: do not place too great a burden for his upbringing upon Rhieienmelth.”
“I will ask of her no more than she is willing to give.”
“Oswald, I do not think this right.”
“What do you know?” Oswald suddenly stiffened, the veins standing out at his temples. “You make of yourself a eunuch: you do not know what it is like to lose a wife, you have no children, no enemies who would spit your son upon their swords if they could. Think not to tell me how to raise my son, Aidan, nor presume overmuch on our friendship. I am king in this land, I and no other, and I will raise him as I will.”
Oswald: Return of the King Page 36