Pit of Vipers (Sons of Kings Book 2) (33 page)

‘The Church of God and all His people shall keep true peace under our rule at all times. I shall ordain justice and mercy in all judgements . . .’

Alfred knelt before the holy bishop, who then anointed his head, hands and heart with the holy oil, and as Alfred sat on the magnificent chair, Radulf stepped forward with the Wessex crown.

The magnificent, golden object with its lining of purple silk and adornment of garnets, pearls and sapphires, glinted in the candlelight as the bishop lifted it from its red velvet cushion and held it above Alfred’s head. Slowly and reverently Bishop Oswine lowered the Wessex crown onto Alfred’s head.

Ealhswith could only stare at the husband she loved so dearly, feeling an overwhelming desire to weep. Beside her, Aethelswith swept her fingers across her cheeks and the two sisters shared a tearful smile.

Alfred, the fifth son of Aethelwulf, was now King of Wessex.

As they followed him out into the sunlight, Aethelswith put her arm around Ealhswith’s shoulders and whispered, ‘Alfred will be the greatest king our people have ever known.’

‘I know he will,’ Ealhswith replied.

Twenty Nine

Elston, Mercia: May, 871

Four-and-a-half-year-old Leofwynn’s piercing scream brought silence to the Elston hall. Servants ceased their chores and Odella tossed aside her embroidery to hasten to lift the blubbering child from the straw-bestrewn floor.

‘He pushed me down!’ Leofwynn wailed, pointing a chubby finger at her brother. She swiped the back of her other hand across her wet face, leaving streaks like cartwheel tracks across her grubby cheeks. ‘He never lets me play with him any more . . .’

‘Hush now, little one,’ Odella soothed, drawing the child into her arms. ‘Your brother’s perhaps not feeling like playing today.’ She turned to the nine-year-old boy. ‘It was unkind of you to push your sister like that, Aethelred. You don’t seem to be doing anything of importance right now, so couldn’t you spare her a few moments? Perhaps you could play the Knucklebones game your father taught you.’

Aethelred scowled and looked away. ‘I’d rather just sit here and wait for the men to get back from Nottingham,’ he muttered.’ He turned his head and cast a scathing look at his young sister. ‘She can’t play Knucklebones, anyway. She can’t even catch, and the bones–’

Breaking free of Odella’s grasp Leofwynn hurled her small but compact body at her brother, sending him backwards from the bench. ‘I
can
catch,’ she shrieked, glaring down at him. ‘Papa said I’m good at it.’

‘Well then,’ Odella said, matter-of-factly as she heaved Aethelred back up to the bench, ‘I’ll fetch over the small games table and get out the bones and you two can have a nice, friendly game. And whoever impresses me the most with . . . let me see . . . with a really good effort, can have a couple of honey cakes while we wait for Lord Eadwulf to return.’

The thought of honey cakes seemed to do the trick for Aethelred, and he brightened up immediately. Odella watched the pair sit down quietly facing each other on the low stools as she placed the small pieces of sheep bones on the table between them. She knew exactly what Aethelred’s problem was, but was unable to do anything about it, except to keep him otherwise amused.

The boy had so wanted to go to Nottingham with the three men. But Odella knew that their trip would be no place for a child. It was not like the usual visit to Nottingham, to purchase goods from the big market there. Eadwulf, accompanied by his brother, Jorund, and her own husband, Aethelnoth, had simply gone to learn of news regarding events developing in Wessex. Little information had reached Elston during the winter months, except that a number of battles had been fought, some won, others lost. And Eadwulf . . .? Well, she thought with a worried frown, it was obvious that
his
real intent was to discover the whereabouts of the Mercian king.

Odella’s thoughts returned yet again to her mistress who had died, nine months ago now, and a sad time it had been for all at Elston. If Leoflaed had still been here, her husband’s intentions to kill King Burgred would have worried her to distraction.

She sank wearily to the bench, ready to watch the children play and generally keep the peace between them. Both had been tetchy today. The constant rain had certainly not helped matters. They had wanted to walk to the little church to put flowers on their mother’s and grandfather’s graves . . . Her hand automatically moved to rest on her swelling abdomen. The babe was active today. In another two months she’d have a young one of her own to care for, as well as the two she already loved so dearly.

Now, at least, the game was progressing and Aethelred was even showing patience with his little sister’s attempts to catch the bones. Odella reflected on the losses they had had to face in less than a year. Leoflaed’s death had left everyone in the hall in a state of misery for so long. Nothing was the same without her and her cheerful, if sometimes bossy, voice around the hall. And dear old Ealdorman Wigstan had simply wasted away following the loss of his beloved daughter. He had made out his will in January, as though he’d known he was going to die little more than a month later. The Elston hall was Eadwulf’s now, bequeathed to him as the husband of Wigstan’s daughter and father of his grandchildren. Eadwulf had written to King Burgred with the news of his ealdorman’s death, stressing that he would be unable to assume the responsibility of ealdorman in his stead due to a debilitating injury. He had signed it simply, ‘Eadwulf of Elston.’

‘I see you have the pair well amused today,’ Selwyn whispered with a grin as he came to join her, having just entered the hall.

Odella nodded, returning the smile. ‘You’d not have said that had you been here a short while ago.’ She gave a mock grimace. ‘Pandemonium, you’d have called it, more like. But yes, they’ve been quite content since I bribed them with honey cakes.’

Wigstan’s brother had been such a support since his older brother’s death, organising much of the estate during the months when Eadwulf had struggled to cope with the loss of Leoflaed. The spring sowing was done, for the most part, lambs abounded in the meadows and cattle were out to pasture. Spring was a delight on the estate, and once again Odella’s thoughts drifted to her dead mistress, who had loved the season so much.

‘The men should be back later on,’ Selwyn remarked. ‘Give them three days, they said, and this is the third. It’s not long till dark, so it could be any time now.’

Odella glanced round to check that the servants were busy with the meal and turned to nod at Selwyn. ‘Since Jorund is with them, I can only agree. When a meal’s about to be served, I can always count on Jorund to be lurking close by. Not much ever seems to put him off his food.’

‘I won!’ Aethelred yelled. ‘I told you you couldn’t best me,’ he hurled at his scowling sister. ‘But you played better than I’ve ever seen you play before, Leofwynn,’ he added quickly, noticing Selwyn and Odella glaring at him. ‘You’re definitely getting much better at Knucklebones and . . .’ He paused, evidently thinking of something else complimentary to say in order to impress the adults. ‘And it won’t be long before you can beat me, flat.’

Leofwynn’s small face lit up and she walked round the little table a give her brother a smacking kiss on his cheek.’ Aethelred opened his mouth, a shriek of disgust hovering on his tongue, but decided to swallow it instead. ‘Thank you,’ he mumbled and hugged her back.

‘Well, now I think it’s time for the honeycakes,’ Odella said, rising to fetch them. ‘I’ve never seen either of you play so well, so it’s sweet cakes for you both, and a cup of buttermilk to wash them down.

‘The things I do to keep the peace,’ she mumbled to herself as she placed the small cakes on a wooden dish.

*****

Dusk was beginning to fall by the time the three men arrived back at Elston. Eadwulf grinned as his two offspring charged at him, arms outstretched.

‘Well, I see that at least two people have missed me,’ he said, picking up Leofwynn with one arm and wrapping the other around Aethelred. ‘But what I want to know, before I dig into my saddle pouch to see what I might find, is how well you’ve behaved for Odella.’

At the children’s guilty looks, Eadwulf winked at Odella, standing beside Aethelnoth. Odella just smiled and held out her hands. Eadwulf knew she was devoted to his children, and always coped with whatever challenging behaviour they displayed. But he did worry how she’d cope when her own babe arrived.

‘I’m sure they behaved just as well as my sister and I did when we were young,’ Jorund put in, causing all but the children to laugh. Everyone knew about Jorund and Yrsa’s almighty squabbles at Ribe.

‘Then next time Eadwulf leaves the hall for a while, Jorund, perhaps you should be the one to take care of these two,’ Aethelnoth added. ‘You’re obviously well informed regarding sibling affections . . . and disaffections.’

Odella gave him a playful thump on the arm. ‘
I’m
the one who will look after these two, although another woman to help me for a while would be appreciated.’

‘Then find the woman to suit and it will be arranged.’

‘Thank you, Eadwulf,’ Odella said. ‘That has greatly eased my mind.’

*****

The evening meal was being served when there was a loud hammering on the door. Servants stopped in their tracks and the four seated men shared a look. None of the estate’s ceorls would have knocked like that.

Eadwulf left the table, collected his sword from where it hung on the wall and was quickly followed by the other three. He motioned them to keep close as he headed for the door and pulled back the wooden bar.

‘Well, I can see you were expecting unfriendly guests,’ Bjorn said, looking bemusedly at the tip of the huge sword pointing at him as the door swung back. ‘If it’s all the same to you, Ulf, I’d feel somewhat safer with that implement securely sheathed. I can assure you, I’m really quite pleasant to my acquaintances.’

Eadwulf grinned and stepped back, allowing Bjorn to enter. Hastein and Leif followed him in, wide grins on their faces. Not one of them looked a day older than the last time he’d seen them. Bjorn and Hastein hadn’t a grey hair between them. Leif retained a ring of long hair and straggling beard to match, and Bjorn’s neatly trimmed beard still contasted with his cousin’s clean-shaven face.

‘You’re looking good, Ulf,’ Hastein said. ‘Your lovely wife must be looking after you.’

‘Still no beard, though,’ Leif added, slapping Eadwulf on the back as he followed behind.

Eadwulf swallowed hard and led the three men to sit at the table. He could not inform them of his wife or Wigstan’s death just yet. There would be time for that once the explanations were over. Aethelnoth and Jorund were beaming like a pair of idiots and Aethelred and Leofwynn simply gawked at the new arrivals.

The three Danes were tucking into bowls of steaming pottage before Eadwulf spoke. ‘The last time you paid me a visit was to bring information, as well as to deliver these two grinning fools here. So, do I assume your reason to be the same again – minus the fools?’

Aethelnoth and Jorund pulled indignant faces at the insult and laughter erupted.

‘Well, Ulf, I can’t say I’ve any particular fools to give away on this occasion,’ Hastein said, pulling an earl lobe, just as Eadwulf remembered him doing so often all those years ago. ‘My household has been somewhat subdued of late . . . if we don’t count Yrsa’s many opinionated remarks.’

‘Is my sister well?’ Jorund asked, suddenly alert to the conversation.

‘She is, and a real charmer when she keeps her temper,’ Hastein replied, chuckling. ‘She rules the roost around my hall when Freydis is preoccupied with looking after Thora.’

Eadwulf thought of the kindly woman who had helped him so much during his first weeks of thraldom, only later to discover she was Freydis’s mother. ‘Is Thora just growing old, or is she suffering from some illness?’

Hastein shrugged. ‘Thora’s by no means young any more, but she is ailing. Her old bones cause her pain, and if not for the herbal potions that Freydis brews, she would barely be able to move at all. I think, perhaps, she has reached the stage where she just wants to die peacefully. Freydis constantly worries, and sits with her whenever she can. If not for Yrsa, I think our hall might come to a standstill.’

Eadwulf just nodded. There was nothing he could say to that.

Bjorn put down his spoon and looked levelly at Eadwulf. ‘Though it does the three of us good to see you, Ulf, we do have something of importance to say. Before we do, perhaps Leoflaed ought to be present.’ He glanced about, questioningly. ‘Perhaps your father-by-marriage would also care to hear –’

‘That won’t be possible,’ Eadwulf replied, feeling as though his anguish had suddenly been stirred back into life. ‘Both Leoflaed and Wigstan are dead.’

The room fell silent and Eadwulf’s eyes met Bjorn’s across the table.

Bjorn reached out and laid his hand on Eadwulf’s arm. ‘You have our sincerest condolences, Ulf,’ he said, glancing from side to side at Hastein and Leif as they nodded, the sympathy on their faces evident. ‘We had no idea.’

‘Of course you didn’t . . . how could you have?’ Eadwulf said with a brave smile, his eyes moving between his three old friends. ‘Leoflaed died in childbed and for a long time I found it hard to cope with her loss, as well as that of our stillborn son. Only the love I have for my children and the support of those around me kept me from absolute despair.

‘When Wigstan died in February,’ he continued when no one spoke, ‘it plunged me further into misery. He was a rare old man and doted on his daughter. Her death hit him so hard . . . He just seemed to give up on life and even stopped eating. He became so weak, he fell as he tried to get out of his bed . . . cracked his head on the corner of a wooden chest and knocked himself out. He never regained consciousness and died a few days later.’

Bjorn shook his head, sadly. ‘You’ve had more than your share of loss in your life. But you will come to terms with these latest tragedies, just as you always do. You have much to live for,’ he added, gesturing to the two children.

Then Leif said, ‘Have you any plans for the future, Ulf? I mean, do you intend to stay here for ever?’

‘Leif, old friend, forever is a very long time. My children are here, and the hall and estate will be Aethelred’s one day. But me . . .? The first thing I intend to do is find Burgred . . .’

Bjorn nodded his understanding. ‘I don’t imagine you heard about Ivar’s death?’ he said. Eadwulf raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, wondering where this would lead. ‘Killed inside his wagon, it seems, by Odin knows who. Whatever was used to garrotte him, the killer must have taken away with him.’

‘We hadn’t heard,’ Eadwulf replied casually, looking to Aethelnoth and Jorund’s bemused faces and shaking heads for confirmation.

‘So, Ulf,’ Hastein said by way of veering away from the subject, ‘you say you have no definite plans for the year?’

‘Only two things spring to mind at present. The first is to head down to Gloucester and try to get closer to Burgred than I managed at Nottingham a few years ago. He’ll be in that region for some weeks, I’m told – until he’s had enough of the Welsh. I don’t think I need to explain my intentions when I do find him.’