Spring, 918, Dunnottar
"There is to a be a meeting," Domnall told Osthryth, repeating his first casual, off-hand statement, a hint of caution behind it now. Osthryth had stopped walking and was now looking south, over the Forth and beyond, to a spot she could not see.
"By the Wall," Domnall clarified, then added, because it was too early in the morning for the argument he felt was coming, "Just speak to Constantine: he spoke of it at the feast last night."
"The feast I did not attend," Osthryth said, smarting at the potential snub. "What else am I to miss out on, Domnall, when I was asked to stay away?"
"Osrit, you were not asked to stay away," Domnall told her, beginning their slow patrol along the northern bank of the river. "Little Finan was calling for you, and Aedre - who you must admit does a lot of the looking after as far as he is concerned, asked you to be with him."
Osthryth turned, and gave Domnall a long look. He was right, and they both knew it. But she did not like it that he had pointed it out.
"You say I am not spending enough time with my son?" Osthryth asked, defensively. He was her best friend, but Domnall could be too truthful with her sometimes. "I spent the night beside him, and the night before last." Then she felt herself stiffen. "Is this why Constantine has excluded me from the meeting?" she asked, suddenly.
But before Domnall could answer, Osthryth was already striding away. Domnall, after a second of urgent thought, hurried after her.
"Osrit!" he called, and when he put a hand on her shoulder, she moved her head, nudging the back of her hand over her face. He softened, and stroked his hand lightly over her shoulder.
"No, Domnall!" Osthryth protested. "I am...fine. I just - uhhhhh!" she raged through her teeth. "I did not choose to be a warrior!" Osthryth went on. "I did not wake up at Bebbanburg looking at swords and Norse ships and think, "One day, I want to be a warrior for my uncle Aelfric!"
"I know, I know," Domnall tried to soothe. But Osthryth turned and looked at her friend, anger, disappointment, injustice written on her face. "I did not say you were a bad mother; I did not say you did not give young Finan enough of your time."
"And I go when he calls - I go even when he does not..." Osthryth went on. "I organise for his lessons, his sword training...Aedre lets him follow her around because it does her well with the mormaers' sons...!"
"Osrit - " Domnall tried to calm her down, but her rage was getting more intense.
"No-one tells a man who is a warrior he needs to be spending more time with his children," Osthryth went on. "No-one excludes a warrior from a significant event because he hasn't spent enough hours bringing up his child." She looked at her friend. "I mean, you spend years away from your son!"
Domnall inhaled and looked across the Forth before looking back to Osthryth. "Edward of Wessex is going to be there," Domnall told her, gravely. "You know how he feels about that king, because of you." It was true, and again, Domnall was the only one who knew how Constantine had treated her that night, when she was preparing to take Aedre to see Beocca.
Black hair, now grey, eyes as blue-bright as she remebered when he had raced back to the Ailech the night she had taken Aedre to Winchester, Domnall was every inch the king his father was. And there he was, taking the time to talk to her now.
And she him: Domnall had, on patrol, when they were far from Dunnottar, confided to Osthryth how much he missed his mother Mael Muire, who had died not long after Flann Sinna, and how much he wished she could see Niall again, a thoroughly upstanding Ui Neill - "Which is rare!" Domnall had laughed through his sadness that day, who had married poor Gormlaith and were now living at Donnchada's generosity, no inch of a challenge to him for the northern throne.
Were Osthryth a man, they might be in an alehouse bitching over the king's decision and reminiscing about past days while getting very drunk.
"And as for little Uille, he died." Osthryth's face fell as she thought of Aira, the servant girl who Mairi had birthed when she found she could not cope with the blood and the fluid and the lives at stake.
"Oh, Domnall, I am sorry!" she told him, stepping close to him and planting a kiss on his cheek, regretting her complains to Domnall at the slight. At the supposed slight: she did not know whether Constantine wished her not to travel there. "But I am going anyway," she told him, pulling away, resolve in her voice. "Even if it's against Constantine's instructions."
She remembeered the letter. Finan wanted to meet her. Though it had long ago burned it to ashes, his words were in her mind, still.
"Don't, Osrit," Domnall told her. "Norse are in the area - Ragnall has claimed land by the Lune river and is pushing ever more towards Cumbraland and into Northumbria again. I don't believe he wishes to treat with Aethelflaed and Edward, or Sygtryggr either."
"But to stake his claim that Alba goes all the way to the wall," Osthryth mused, "He needs to be there, have a presence." It all made sense. What didn't was not including Osthryth.
"I am sorry about your son," Osthryth said, as they headed towards the undulating terrain in the east. It was the easiest part to defend, being open ground, and she examined the land as if it held a thousand of Finehair's Norse. But she felt that Domnall was not keeping pace with her. She turned, and saw him fixed to the spot, staring at her.
"This is not about Uille," he told her. "I did not love the girl, he - " he shook his head. But then, he turned his head in defiance as Osthryth neared.
"You did not want to fight again," he reminded her, sharply. "You wanted to become a farmer. What has changed, Osrit?" He glanced to her hip. "A strange shaped ploughshare you have there, in yer scabbard, caraid - "
"Stop!" she declared.
"Why?" The argument must have been brewing for some time between them - Domnall's instinct was spot in, Osthryth sensed. "What has changed that you wish to see the Ulaid bastard now? Where is Ceinid in all of this? Where is young Finan - ?" He broke off, and looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. "That's it, is it?" he asked. "You and that bastard?"
Osthryth glanced away, and looked at the moss-strewn rocks that ranged from the river up into the high land to the north. Many hues of lichen took their places beside them. She had never noticed the beauty of the landscape before, and now, being caught out by her best friend made her examine them intently.
"It must be some love yer hold for him, Osrit, even after yer know what he and that bastard brother of his did ter yer, and the other women that came into their lives." Osthryth felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to Domnall, guilt decorating her features.
"He wrote to me," Osthryth told him. "He wants to meet me." But Domnall shook his head and it was his turn to look away.
"How yer can still love him, Osrit, after everything," he said.
"I don't," she shot back. "I don't love him. I don't even know what I saw in him, except - "
Except she was alone in Winchester, away from everyone she had known, looking for a brother who, to Osthryth, was going to be as honourable and faithful as Domhnall's warriors, with whom she had spent those years in her youth living with, growing up with. As her ideal came apart, Finan was there, black haired, pale eyed, like the Gaels she had known. It was his quick wit and his link to Eireann which had made her interested, and it was an interest, if she admitted it, that drew to attraction, and then love.
If Finan ever did what he said he would do, come north to find her, would she flee with him? They had no wealth, no land. She would be forsaking Alba if she did that, there would be no way back, and he would be forsaking Uhtred.
"I want to take my son to see his father," Osthryth admitted. "St. Cuthbert's Cove is at Bebbanburg, and - "
"I cannot stop you," Domnall told her, flatly. "Well, I could, I could tell Constantine all you've told me. And even then, he cannot stop you, if you truly wish to go, after he's beaten you." Osthryth shivered. "But think, caraid," Domnall continued, "Think about everyone's lives. Think about young Finan, how this will affect him. Because if you leave, you know you will not come back."
There it was. Domnall's fear. He would lose her as a friend, Constantine would be dishonoured. Truly, would Finan leave Uhtred's side?
And then there was Ceinid. She loved Ceinid, she truly did. Osthryth wanted to make a future for them all, and she felt protected in his company, she felt like she did not have to fight to prove the point that she was not someone's sister, someone's daughter or niece or mother. In Ceinid's company, she could be Osthryth, and she could farm and do an honest day's work for the future yield of crops, of food, to support the people of Berric whose living depended on the land. It was a future worth having.
But she needed to close the door with Finan. And Osthryth knew she must do that by taking young Finan to see him. What better opportunity than at a place where many people were? To witness her motives? With Domnall beside her to remind her of her own resolve?
"It would be the end of my time with him," Osthryth told Domnall. "It would be the closing of the door. I wish young Finan to see his father, and I wish that to be the end of my association with him. My future is with Ceinid, though it will be hard to lay down my sword. And young Finan - " she broke off and looked in the direction of the tower. "I worry at his reluctance to learn swordcraft. He needs to know the basics, and yet his love is with words and language. He knows so many."
"Like you, Osrit," Domnall reminded her. "You pick up languages like a Briton picks up oak wood. Not all boys become warriors. Some become scholars." He smiled at her, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe he wishes to become a monk? Maybe he will preach the Word to the Norse and die in his bed?"
"Saint Finan?" Osthryth wondered, and a smile broke on the shore of her face, which caused Domnall to smile, and then laugh, and then they were both laughing for no other reason than they were friends, in whose confidences they put secrets in which they trusted no-one else.
"Come on," Domnall said to her, beginning to walk at pace, on the lower path that led to Dunnottar.
"What?"
"You won't be happy until you know." He nodded towards the fortress. "Go and find Constantine and make him tell you whether he intends to include you or not."
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But it was Aedre Osthryth met before she found Constantine and she confided in her daughter that Constantine had talked about taking an army south.
"The men are back from Bebbanburg," Osthryth continued, as she abandoned her search for Constantine and instead headed to the tower room, where young Finan was still asleep. Two or three times a year Constantine sent men to honour his agreement from Wihtgar. And, apart from the one attempt nearly four years ago by Uhtred to take the fortress, there had been little trouble at all from one cousin to another.
"He's a-bed at this hour?" Osthryth asked Aedre.
"Mhathair, he barely slept because of you leaving, and cannot sleep properly even now. And you are going away with athair?" Osthryth stopped. She hadn't said that to Aedre, but it was telling that the girl had supposed that.
"Aedre, I am never leaving him again. If I have to go I will be taking him with me." She sighed, and touched her daughter's red-golden head genrly. "I hated leaving you but you had athair, and he had commanded me. It hurt me to leave you all," Osthryth added. "I have avoided leaving these past years, if you have noticed."
"I have, mhathair," Aedre said, looking up through Osthryth's arms and giving her the wide, ghost-like smile of her real mother, Thyra Ragnarsdottir. "And I have also noticed your face when the army marches south, when it goes as it does to Bebbanburg."
And there speaks your real father, Osthryth thought, Father Beocca, whose insight was like a hot knife through butter. But it was a humane instinct, that knew, underneath it all, the sinner was human, and treated them with respect where other priests, other kings, other bishops would not.
"Bebbanburg is tricky, and you know it," Osthryth told her, taking Aedre's hands in hers. "I gave you my real name because I never wanted to be involved in that place again, but I wanted the name of my ancestors to live on. I know you call yourself a different name, just as I do," Osthryth added, proving, for once, to be as insightful as her daughter, "Thyra ingen Caustin."
"Aedre Thyra ingen Caustin," she told Osthryth. "I could never forget my real name, or you."
"But...?"
"But I want to marry Anlaf," she told her. "For Athair, for myself. To have a real life, a real future, like you want with Ceinid. To pay back Athair for everything he has done since you brought me here." Osthryth smiled at the idealisation of life made real by her daughter's words.
Was she any better than Aedre at her age? She thought Uhtred was going to be her salvation, that she would turn up to his house and tell him she was his sister, and he would open his arms and tell her all was well and they would be one, big happy family. Life had not been like that, of course, but the young knew nothing of life, and that was, on reflection, good for them.
"Believe me," Osthryth told her. "I have brought him more wealth in leather bags and given more blood in service to Constantine than you ever need to pay yourself." She kissed Aedre on the forehead. "Pay it forward, to your own family, to Anlaf and your own children and the lives you make for yourself. Do not make my mistakes and expect other people to help you."
Because Osthryth had chosen not to see Ula when she was pregnant with young Finan and, as predicted, a child had become a complication, a weight tying her down.
Not that she could ever say those words to anyone, nor did she mean them. But her son tied her to Dunnottar, made it so she chose not for the sake of dynasty or land or country or oath, but for blood. Mothers made those choices while it didn't happen for fathers. It was why Aethelflaed had lost her temper with Osthryth. The Lady of the Mercians would be regretting that, Osthryth knew, to reveal her desire that she wanted Aelfflaed protected.
Osthryth realised then that it was only Alba that she truly cared about. Alba, which had welcomed her, accepted her. It had nurtured her and been her refuge. Uhtred, Osthryth realised then, must have felt the same about the Danes because the Danish family who had taken him had raised him and treated him with respect.
And she knew then that she didn't care about Bebbanburg any more, she didn't care which of her brothers took the fortress that had been her home and while she loved Wihtgar, and respected that he was her brother, neither he nor Uhtred were her family. Bha a dachaigh ann an Alba.
"Other people...?" Aedre sat back and looked at her mother. "I am not other people, Mhathair! I did not look after Finan beag out of duty, or anything like that! As you said, Athair compelled you to leave. He is my brother; it was an honour to be beside him."
And Osthryth pulled Aedre close to her, needing the embrace just as Aedre used to need the embrace when she was younger. She had a brother, whom she loved, and young Finan had a sister. That was good; that was very good. Her desire for Finan would pass, if she tried hard enough, Osthryth resolved in her mind. Too many people would have their lives ruined otherwise.
But she did owe him a meeting, Osthryth thought. He deserved to see his son.
"Mhathair!" From the bed, Osthryth saw young Finan's eyes open. Seven years old he was now, Osthryth thought. What was that saying from the Roman church: give me a boy until he is seven and I will give you the man? Young Finan would indeed have many skills as a man if his seven-year-old self was a template for his future self. And though he was relucant with swordwork, he did not complain about doing it.
"Beag aon!" Osthryth cried, pulling her "Little one" into her arms. He held the cuddle for a few seconds, then sat back in bed. Tonight, thought Osthryth, I'm coming up from the armoury back here. Her son could be the first one he saw when he woke up, and it was not as if she were a career soldier, a warrior for life earning silver to support her family: he was her family, as was Aedre. Osthryth had to do it in a different way for them. She had to let go of her anger that drove her will to pick up Buaidh. Perhaps Buaidh could be young Finan's sword, and she could put her warriorship behind her.
"Mhathair!" repeated young Finan, "Is it breakfast time already?"
"Time to be getting up and getting dressed," Osthryth told him, "And, as for breakfast, it is nearly lunchtime. I'm going to meet Constantine about a matter - and you," she emphasised, "Are going to meet me in the courtyard at midday and show me what you can do with a sword.
"I want to see Athair too," young Finan told her.
"Then, eat your breakfast first, and ask Ceinid to bring you in. We can go to the courtyard afterwards, and yes," Osthryth added, when young Finan pulled a face, "You are going to show me your sword skills."
"You are going to a meeting at the Wall?" Osthryth asked, when she was announced at the throne room and was admitted through the front doors. Constantine, who might have been expecting a good many things, did not expect this.
"Domnall told you, then," Constantine replied to her. "And you wish to come?"
Osthryth did wish to go. But she did not reply, for she did not wish to say so. She was a warrior. And yet, after her talk with Domnall, felt only relief at deciding that she was not going to leave young Finan behind again. If she were to go, he was going with her.
"Osthryth, you did as I commanded, for nearly six months when you left to honour Alba by supporting Mercia in her hour of need. You brought me back warriors, good men on whom I have relied on these past years. You brought me back wealth. Any debt you think you owe me, for your keep, for Aedre, for young Finan, is paid many times over. And you owe no debt to Mercia now - I have ensured the Lady of the Mercians knows this.
This was a reasonable Constantine, a grown up Constantine. These were words she would have expected from his father, King Aed. And yet, he was grown. Osthryth by her own reckoning put herself over fifty years, and Constantine was not much younger than she was.
"And Aedre? Is the plan for her still to marry Anlaf?" Constantine smiled a little, knowing she wasn't here about Aedre.
"He is a rogue," Constantine told her, getting up from his throne. "He had killed many good Gaels, many of my people Western Isles."
"Then why keep him with you?" Osthryth asked, shocked
"Expediency. He serves a purpose, the purpose being union of Britons and Gaels with the might of Norse to aid his purpose of driving Sais away." Osthryth took a few steps towards her king.
"Does the plan involve Sygtryggr? Keep the lands to the wall and let Sygtryggr have the rest?" Because it was the only plan that made sense to Osthryth. The land to the Wall was Bebbanburg land, and Sygtryggr might well decide to help his father-in-law. But Uhtred was not the master of Bebbanburg and Sygtryggr, as king, had to decide on things for the immediacy and not the future. Plus, he will have had alliances with other Norse in Ireland. Anlaf might just be the alliance Constantine needed.
" And he is smitten with Aedre." That was it then, Osthryth thought. Here was the words of a father that adored his adopted daughter. No man could have loved a daughter more than to wait for a suitable match that was mutually beneficial to both of those involved in it.
"Then let her marry, Constantine," Osthryth told her. "We are her guardians, she has no family that we know of."
"I am glad you agree, Osthryth," Constantine told her. "We can pursue this when I return from Corbridge. "My army and I will meet with Edward, Sygtryggr and Aethelflaed.
"When do we leave?" Osthryth asked. The crucial question.
"You are not coming," Constantine told her. "I need all my men with me, and I need someone reliable here."
"You will have your guard; Dunnottar will have Ceinid."
"I am taking my army with me," Constantine told her. "I need every warrior I can get without leaving my home without protection." He got to his feet and began to walk to the window. From there, the Forth could be seen and, on the far bank, Culdees monastery. "The Sais need to see the strength of Alba." Then, he turned back to Osthryth, his father manifest before Osthryth.
"Intelligence from Aeswi is that a Lord Aethelhelm is coming north with boats and supplies also his youngest daughter Aelswith to marry someone. Perhaps a nobleman, a Norseman, from Northumbria?"
"Why?" Osthryth wondered, aloud. "What interest could Aethelhelm have here? He is one of the richest men in Wessex."
"Ah," Constantine breathed. "You know Aethelhelm, of course. I had forgotten this."
"I knew him once," Osthryth said. "His eldest daughter is Edward's wife, queen of Wessex." And at once, she remembered this man, who was a malevolent presence for a lot of her time at the palace at Winchester. "He is motivated by money, and is not used to any sort of discomfort, such as a boat journey."
"Without good reason," Constantine concluded, and a knowing smile crept t his lips. "What do you suppose might be the reason, other than the marriage?"
"Something to do with controlling Northumbria in some way," Osthryth suggested.
"I agree," Constantine nodded. "There is a truce between Northumbria and Wessex, just as there is a truce between Northumbria and Mercia. But Wessex did not give lives and men at Ceastre and Eoferwic to put Sygtryggr on the throne." He took some steps to Osthryth. "It is my belief that eventually, the West Saxons will break Sygtryggr's truce and invade Northumbria. Holding Bebbanburg will be the key they need."
That made perfect sense. Help Uhtred take Bebbanburg, use it as a base. Because the next stop after Northumbria would be the land directly north.
And suddenly, she did care about who held Bebbanburg. In Uhtred's hands, Alba was under direct threat. And that threat would come from, she suspected, not Aethelflaed, who had her treaty with Constantine, but Wessex. And when Edward died, the next to take both kingdoms, the man who it made sense to be king over Wessex and Mercia was Aethelstan. And he had no anchors weighing him down such as truces and oaths.
"I want to come!" Osthryth told Constantine. "I want to be there, to help."
"But you will stay," Constantine told her. "You will stay and you will protect Dunnottar. And that is my final word on the subject."
And with that, Constantine, in his bronze circlet and Domhnall's dark blue cloak, swept from his throne room, leaving Osthryth alone.