Better than Gold (6 page)

Annis looked up, alarmed, as Chad quietly followed him into the room.

‘I cannot leave my boy,' she cried.

‘But I think you must,' Chad said. ‘If you return, you can reassure Queen Eanfleda that our prince is safe and well. It's a gesture of good faith on the Mercians' part and we must accept it.'

‘But who will see to his clothes and his hurts?' Annis looked distraught.

‘I will,' Chad said. ‘I have healing skills and I can wash and dry clothes and smooth them with slick stones.'

‘But such work…it is too humble for a holy man.'

Chad smiled. ‘I'm the youngest of five brothers,'
he
said. ‘Do you think I've never played the servant before? My duty as the prince's tutor now means more than teaching him to read and write. Besides,' he added, ‘nothing is too humble for a Christian holy man.'

‘I know you'd give your life to protect him,' Annis admitted sadly.

‘Do you want to go home?' Egfrid asked.

Her brief hesitation told him that she did. ‘I… I don't want to leave you,' she began, ‘but my mother is old and sick, she may not last the winter and…' She halted.

Egfrid glanced at Chad, and took a deep breath. ‘You must go,' he said. ‘I can manage here, so long as Chad is with me.'

Annis looked as though she might cry, but instead she hugged him. ‘I'll come back if you send for me,' she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. ‘And I will always be your loving Annis.'

‘I know you will,' Egfrid said. He smiled bravely now, for a happier thought had followed. ‘Please, will you search for Woodruff, and if you find him, see that he is well fed and treated kindly.'

‘I'll take him to my home and keep him myself,' she said.

Ethelwald
rode away from Tamworth with a wagonload of gifts and a contingent of armed Mercians to guard it, in addition to his own warrior band. Annis was provided with a steady cob and allowed to take the new clothes with her. The queen added a small gold brooch in the shape of a dragon, with a garnet in its eye, for she said that the nurse had behaved with a dragon's courage.

Egfrid and Chad stood on the palisade walkway, above the main gate, and watched as the cavalcade vanished into the distance. As they turned away, Sigurd strode out from the training ground, the spotted hound on a leash beside him.

‘Time for another bout of spear-work, lad,' he said. ‘Before the sun sets and the meal is ready.'

Egfrid reached forward to fondle the hound's silky ears as it reared to lick his hand.

‘And Queen Cynewise says you're to have this beast and keep him with you for protection, if you wish it.'

‘I wish it,' Egfrid said quickly, his spirits lifting. ‘What is his name?'

‘You may name him as you like.'

‘Dapple,' the boy said, ‘for he's dappled like a deer.'

‘Then Dapple he is. Give him to your holy man, while we work on your stance and feet.'

Chad
took the dog and followed them to the training ground. Dapple trotted obediently in his new master's wake.

The following days fell into a hard pattern of work. Egfrid rose at dawn each day to work with shield and spear, and sometimes wrestled with Sigurd's son, Ranulf. The first time he managed to throw the bigger lad, he whooped wildly with delight, and then hurried to help him up.

‘You won't do that again, in a hurry,' Ranulf said cheerfully, dusting himself down.

Dapple went everywhere at his master's heels and slept at the bottom of Egfrid's bed. He brought comfort whenever the boy's thoughts strayed to the loss of Annis, and woke with a growl when the slightest sound or movement disturbed their sleep.

As Weed-month began, the weather grew warm. Chad, concerned that Egfrid might forget his book-learning, spoke to the queen. ‘Christian princes are expected to learn such skills,' he told her.

‘But I'm training to be a warrior now,' Egfrid protested, uncertain that he wanted to return to books.

‘
Ethelwald can read and write,' Cynewise acknowledged. ‘But my husband scorns such skills… not the way of the warrior king.'

‘Writing can be put to good use,' Chad persisted. ‘Your sister, the widowed queen, reads well. I could write a letter to her from you.'

The queen looked up with interest. ‘Very well,' she said. ‘Write a message to my sister for me, and my foster son shall have his lessons again.'

Chad searched for goose quills, dipped the tips in boiling water and sharpened them to make pens. He made ink by crushing the round galls from oak trees. The queen bought vellum from a travelling merchant and a private message was written and sent to the widowed Queen Cyneburgh.

Though Penda struggled more than ever with his painful leg, he often stumped outside to watch Egfrid's training sessions and give advice and praise.

The weather turned cool as Offerings-month began, and still no word came from King Oswy. Egfrid knew his father would hate to make peace with such a bitter enemy, but as the Night of the Dead approached, Ethelwald arrived back in Tamworth.

He too brought a wagonload of gifts and the news
that
Oswy waited at Londesbrough, on the north bank of the Humber, where—with the King of Deira's permission—a meeting could take place.

‘They agree to Princess Alchfled as a peace-weaver bride for Beorn,' Ethelwald announced. ‘But they want more.'

‘What more?' Penda demanded.

Ethelwald grinned as Cynewise's golden-haired eldest daughter presented him with a gold-rimmed drink-horn of mead. ‘They want your Cyneburgh for Oswy's eldest son.'

‘Huh!' Penda growled. ‘Can he run as fast as his father then?'

Ethelwald snorted with laughter.

The queen was all smiles at the suggestion, though the young princess looked somewhat unsure.

‘They propose a meeting and an exchange of brides at Londesbrough. Oswin the Good is willing to act as host and it can be done before Blood-month begins.'

‘Oh, husband,' Cynewise touched Penda's arm, imploring his consent.

The king moved his leg and groaned. ‘Very well,' he growled. ‘I cannot lead an army like this. It seems we must make peace with Faint-heart.'

Cynewise
flung her arms about him and drink-horns were raised to the coming peace agreement.

CHAPTER
9

Peace

E
gfrid's spirits swung wildly back and forth as he rode through the backbone hills, heading towards the flat wet-lands that surrounded the Humber. They made slow progress, due to Penda's wound, which gave him more pain than ever. Sometimes Egfrid fizzed with excitement—he'd see his parents again! At other times his thoughts drifted back to the earlier journey, when he'd ridden in front of Penda, fearful that he'd be killed at any moment.

Chad saw the way his thoughts strayed. ‘A better journey,' he said.

‘Better for you,' Egfrid, answered, remembering the black eye the monk had suffered. ‘But not better for the king!' he added, with a backward glance to where Penda was carried in a wagon.

‘
No indeed,' Chad agreed.

Penda had refused to be left in Tamworth like an old mule put out to grass, but he suffered the indignity of the wagon with impatience. Cynewise rode at his side, patiently doing all she could to ease his pain. Fritha tended the king each time they made camp.

They forded the River Humber at the ancient crossing place, close to the remains of the old Roman camp at Brough. After one night's rest, they moved on to Londesburgh and when they came in sight of the palisade, they found it surrounded by a great spread of tents, all marked by different battle standards.

Egfrid's stomach churned at the sight. What would it be like to meet his parents again, in front of this vast gathering? He knew he couldn't return to Bamburgh and wondered how it would feel to say goodbye again.

Horns blared to announce their arrival and Oswy and his queen rode out to meet them. Egfrid sat tall in the saddle, glad that Cynewise had insisted that he wear his new leather warrior's jacket and a soft woollen cloak dyed in rich purple. What would his father think when he saw him dressed as royally as his cousin Ethelwald?

Horns blared again as the two parties lifted their hands in greeting. Oswy swung down from the saddle
and
strode past Egfrid to Penda, who was carried uncomfortably upright on his carved gold-painted throne.

Egfrid was dismayed that his father did not even appear to have noticed him. But his mother had seen him. Eanfleda rushed towards him, tears pouring down her cheeks.

‘My son, my son!' she cried. Egfrid found himself enveloped in a loving, though rather damp embrace—at least somebody had missed him.

‘It's all right, Mother,' he whispered. ‘I'm safe.'

‘Dear boy, dear boy,' she cried. ‘Have they made you take part in their wicked pagan ceremonies?'

‘No, Mother. Chad is always at my side. I am allowed my faith.'

‘King Oswy Iding welcomes the great King Penda to Deira,' a herald announced.

Penda's throne was lowered to the ground and he struggled painfully to his feet. ‘Oswin Yffi should be the one to welcome us,' he said.

Young King Oswin hurried forward, eager to make amends.

Penda gripped the younger man's hand warmly and only then turned to Oswy, nodding curtly. Cynewise
hurried
to her husband's side, anxious to smooth things over.

The herald announced, ‘Queen Cyneburgh, widow of the late and great King Oswald Whiteblade.'

A curtained litter was carried forwards and Cynewise took a few nervous steps towards it, her expression strained. The curtains opened and Whiteblade's widow stepped out to greet the older sister she hadn't seen since she was a child. Everyone gasped as the two women, so alike and yet so different, kissed, then hugged each other tightly.

Cynewise gave a fierce smile ‘I named my first daughter in your honour,' she said.

The tension that had surrounded the men lifted a little and there followed a light ripple of applause. What further was said between the two sisters could not be heard, but Cynewise led her sister to Penda, and the old man bowed over the widowed queen's hand and kissed it.

‘Your husband was a true warrior, lady,' he said. ‘I regret his death.'

Cyneburgh lifted her chin a little. ‘I am a Christian. I forgive,' she said.

‘You forgive your husband's killer?' Penda said, surprised.

‘
I do,' she said firmly.

Penda bowed to her again.

Egfrid suddenly saw his poor aunt in a new, courageous light.

There was another awkward pause and then Oswy led Alchfled forward. ‘My daughter the peace-weaver bride,' he announced.

Even Egfrid was impressed, Alchfled had never looked so fine, her long fair hair brushed loose and falling about her shoulders. She was dressed in red trimmed with gold braiding, and carried a mead-horn that she proffered to the grizzled old Mercian. He took a sip and handed it back to her, then landed a smacking kiss on her cheek that startled her.