Dunnottar, Harvest 918
"Mhathair, I need to speak to you, but I am sure it is nothing." Aedre, who was unusually up at dawn, put her golden head around the doorframe of the room in the keep where Osthryth and young Finan slept. Osthryth was up now, as usual, and contemplating the day. Sword training, she supposed.
After Corbridge, had taken Constantine five weeks to return to the fortress via Caer Ligualid. Osthryth and Domnall had crossed the Northumbrian hills and heaths and rested, as she and Aeswi had once rested, at Melrose monastery, Father Beocca's once home. It had been an awkward journey back. Domnall's usual ease and friendliness had gone and they had ridden mostly in silence back to Dunnottar. It was only at the crossing at Culdees that he had got off his horse and held her rein. She had slipped from her saddle and stood before him, the Forth's ever-present breeze crowning her head.
"What?" Osthryth asked, when he hadn't said anything.
"Just - " Domnall glanced past her, to the west. "Sometimes, it seems so long ago that I was a young, intemperate man and you were the bastard boy who had come with my shit-faced cousin over the northern sea."
"I saw you fight," Osthryth told him. "At Corbridge, the Norse fled you and your banner. They knew they were fighting an Ui Neill." Domnall smiled and looked at his saddle bag. The Red Hand of the north of Eireann, painted with ground ironstone and set with sorrel leaf extract. It had been his mother's, presented at Teamreach - Tara - where she had travelled with her father, King Constantine to be wed to Aed Findliath, High King of Eireann.
Domnall had told her that, once, when he knew he would be having to leave, when Flann Sinna took over the High Kingship, and things were thawing between them following his behaviour at the Tara Festival. Osthryth always wondered about how they had become allies, become friends. And he was probably right, about Constantine, and his using of her for his own gains. But Dunnottar was her home, and Constantine was her king. As close to being family as she could be without being Gaelish herself.
But now she was going to be related to Constantine. Ceinid was his cousin through his mother's family, and owned land which had, over the centuries, belonged at hand the Picts and the Bernicians. The border was nebulous, but what was fixed deep in the culture of the Picts and the Angles who had warred over the land, was Berric. The land north of the Tuide was a stronghold, not of stone and warriors as Bebbanburg, but possibly even more important: it was farmland. Men needed food, and the land which Osthryth would manage fed large swathes of the surrounding land.
And, Osthryth had hypothesised, she was going to be a foot in each camp in disputed land between Pictland and Northumbria: she would, through marriage be Pictish, and by birth Northumbrian. Should Edward, or Aethelstan, or even Uhtred when he eventually took Bebbanburg, set their sights on Alba, it would benefit Constantine grearly that a lay warrior controlled this buffer land. As Osthryth had heard her brother saying about Alfred, after he had died, Osthryth also thought it apt here: the bastard thinks.
"When I marry, Constantine will no longer be able to say what I do," she told Domnall. "I will be mistress of Berric - master of it. Ceinid will not be able to resist returning to Dunnottar, or at least command men for Constantine - I know this. And I will be able to raise young Finan away from the palace, give him a purpose. Show him his culture."
It meant everything to Osthryth when Domnall smiled and nodded. At last he understood, at last he knew why she was doing what she was doing. Had Muire not done the same for her own children, securing their place by marrying Flann Sinna? What else would be done, other than tear herself from the land and return to Alba, Domnall and Niall at her one side, Mael Colm, Mael Dubh, her young nephews at her other? And, as they crossed the Forth river, Osthryth stole some glances across to Domnall and felt the fixedness of friendship in her chest.
It was how she was feeling now when she her daughter stood before her, concern on her beautiful face. Osthryth smiled.
"Aedre?" Osthryth moved her head to her adopted daughter. "Is it Anlaf?"
"It is Anlaf," her face lit up, but then fell again.
"Aedre, you do not need my permission," Osthryth said, taking her hand and pulling her down next to her. "I took you, fed you myself because I had milk and your mother had died, and brought you sonewhere safe..." She rubbed her head as Aedre looked at her. "And you have repaid me thousandfold by being the lovely young woman that you are." She sighed, and glanced to the window, where two wrens were having a singing competition.
"I was not here for a lot of your time growing up - it's not surprising young Finan does not listen to me because you did my job with him. It is not surprising that my opinion is not as important to you." Osthryth broke off. Not as important as Constantine was, she thought. Aedre would listen to her adoptive father in an instant, sit close to him when she could, to hear him speak. She adored the king; there was a gap between her and Osthryth.
"Mhathair!" Aedre declared, with a cry, and leaned back to look at her mother's face. "You are most important! You gave me your name! You saved my life."
"I never had the right words to say, the tender words mothers know to say to their children," Osthryth went on, sadly.
"Oh Mhathair!" Aedre cried, clinging to Osthryth again. "The words you say they are most important." From Osthryth's middle, the young woman's voice came, muffled, in the same way as she used to do when she was a child. "Athair says I can choose, and I have asked if Anlaf can visit again that I may know him." By "Athair" she meant Constantine.
"That's sensible," Osthryth agreed. And then Aedre pulled her head back up away from her mother, and gave her a worried look.
"It isn't that - it's Finan beag..." Aedre's voice trailed off. Osthryth froze, the warning in her daughter's voice clear, and she looked across to her son's sleeping form.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Aedre replied, hurriedly. "He grows up healthy and happy, and Ealasaid is pleased with his development."
"Then?"
"It is Athair," Aedre went on. "I thought I was going mad when I first heard him." And she looked at Osthryth with her bright, blue eyes, Thyra's eyes. "I heard him call Finan beag by Ildubh's name."
"Ildubh's name?" Osthryth echoed, as she repeated Aedre's words again in her own mind.
"I thought I had misheard, but no, I asked Ealasaid, and Uunst, the captain."
"It is probably nothing," Osthryth said, and took Aedre's hand. "Constantine does not like things to change, and although he has determined I am to marry tomorrow, he is probably being forgetful.
Or, is he going mad like Domhnall did? The question came to the back of Osthryth's mind. But then, a flurry of talk about Ealasaid's plan for a flowers and the dread of the idea of a gown that had been made for her filled the bedchamber, and Osthryth wondered whether the better idea might be, instead of all the frills and the fluff, would be to steal a horse from the stable and take Ceinid with her, to a place far away, and be married, only the two of them and a priest.
"...and the linen has been pressed and hung in the tower, so it can flatten..." Aedre went on. At least there was someone who cared about these things, and it occurred to Osthryth that, like funerals, weddings and the ceremony and tradition that went with them were not necessarily for the two people involved.
And so she listened, and involved herself, and played her part. Osthryth, the woman now, not Osthryth the warrior. It would soon be over, and then, she would be Osthryth the landowner and Osthryth the farmer. She smiled. She would also be Osthryth the wife, and she thought of Ceinid, how she had glimpsed him that morning in the armoury and he had smiled at her with a look of contented happiness on his face before going back to cleaning the metalworlk.
Osthryth thought then, as she thought now, how she cared for him, and how he made her want to be a better person, to leave alone her past of being a warrior and instead be in charge of farmland - rheir farmland. She wanted best in all the world to do well for Ceinid as a farmer. A place in the world was being made for her, and Osthryth was resolved to fit as best as she could into it.
88888888
So, when she had been called to Constantine in the throne room that evening, she was not surprised to be told that she was to sleep in the tower room with Finan beag that night.
"Men will guard you," he went on.
"Yes," Osthryth agreed. A ceremonial guard, symbolic of her last night of being an unmarried woman. He leaned forward in his throne, kingly resolve on his face now, no trace of their former intimacy.
"The priest will be here, in the chapel," he went on. "And I will walk beside you and give you to Ceinid." Osthryth nodded. Ealasaid had already told her several times of the Gaelish and Pictish traditions, but it seemed to soothe Constantine to tell her himself.
"And I trust you will be very happy with my cousin. His lands are sizeable; you will make a good mistress of Berric."
"Thank you, Constantine," she replied, and bowed her head. As she did so, Osthryth noticed Constantine's face flicker. Disapproval at her familiarity? Or something else?
"We will feast - it has been a long time since we feasted. And you will leave the next day for Berric."
"Thank you," Osthryth repeated, then could not help herself but to take some steps towards Constantine. "Your grace and generosity are God-given." He seemed to be pleased to hear that, and bowed his head.
"My son will like the sea," she added, as Constantine got to his feet, indicating the audience was over. Constantine stopped moving, and threw Osthryth an icy look.
"No," he told her, Osthryth's resolve to the future coming undone at a stroke. "You are going to Berric, you and Ceinid. Now," Constantine concluded, "Go, and make your preparations, you will have a long day tomorrow."
88888888
Osthryth had to excuse herself from the wedding plans in the end and leave Ealasaid and Aedre in their arrangements. None of them seemed to need her input anyway, and so she took herself off to the village. It made her feel good to be there, and she went to the church, which Griogair had burned, ending so many lives in flames, even Taghd's. He had handed her his short blade, and gone in, determined to save lives. She looked at at the ghost of the church, and imagined what life she might have had, married to him. She had been pregnant with Constantine's child: Taghd had said they would raise the child; he had said he would not determine whether she would give up being a warrior.
The sad thing was that she could not remember his face. She had thought and thought to many times about the man she had wanted to marry, but only vague details came to her mind - his hair, his smile. His height. But the saddest was that, through his death, she would never have fled south to search for Uhtred - she would never have been captain in Mercia, of her beloved guards, who had been so faithful to her because she had kept the faith with them. She would never have been made Edward's guard, or met Finan Mor.
Again, she corrected herself, as she took herself back to the castle. Although she would never have known the man who had aided Ninefingers in his attack on her on the Foyle coast was the same man she loved so deeply in her heart. And it would probably have been a good thing if she had never met Edward Aethling.
How could a person think like that? Young Finan would never have been born, otherwise. Twists of God's will, of the will of the gods of old still acknowledged by the Britons in Cumbraland, her mother's land.
After a few bites in the kitchen, at the table as Glymrie the ancient cook filled her plate with keen noises that she should eat, Osthryth took herself up to the tower room. Aedre and young Finan would be sleeping in a room near Ealasaid in the main part of the palace, so when the door closed behind her, Osthryth felt pleased: she could sleep and set her mind on the day.
She recognised two guards, Dubhcan and Drostan, both sons of mormaers, now grown up, ones she had taught to fight when they first came to Dunnottar and they ascended the tower steps to close her in. Osthryth had seen them both fight at Corbridge with the utmost determination and resolve when they had been at Corbridge, and they saluted Osthryth stepped into the room, done out, so it would seem, with new linens - probably by Ealasaid and her maids, and then let herself be locked in, lying down, more tired than ever she expected to be.
Something was on her mind, though what it was, Osthryth could not tell. Her mind drifted to Constantine: something to do with Constantine?
Constantine, she heard a voice echo, as if someone was agreeing with her. The Morrigan, Osthryth thought, the great queen of the Sidhe, whose presence she always felt, as a constant this far north. The Morrigan would be at her side tomorrow, when she wed Ceinid. As she had been at her side when she and Taghd were hand wed in the fields not far from Tara.
She must have closed her eyes and slept, still in her clothes, for a noise sometime later caused her to open her eyes with a start, and it was dark.
It was past September, close to Aedre's birthday, another part of her mind reminded her, so it must be past evening prayers from Culdees. But Osthryth shook away all thoughts because the noise came again, a scrabbling sound which seemed to be coming near the window. Not monastery-song drifting over the river then, as sometimes happened. There was another noise too, a noise from the castle itself, shouts and loud voices and the sound of distant music.
Osthryth went for her sword. Which, of course, was not there, having been left in the armoury while she was in her breeches and shirt. Another scrape, and Osthryth was on her feet and she moved as silently as she could towards the window.
Another thought struck her: could it be Constantine? He came so often when young Finan was born, scaling the wall like a young an to sit and speak to her. Yet Ealasaid had told her there was to be a celebration for Ceinid that evening - that was the music and the shouting. So what was the scrabbling?
Osthryth did not have long to think, when hands appeared at the window, pulling over the intruder. Another soon followed.
"Osthryth!" she heard the man hiss. It was Aeswi. Behind him, stumbled Feilim, and both men stood in front of her. She was glad there was a full moon, for she had been about to push them back out of the tower. Osthryth sighed, and staggered back a little, still woozy from being woken up.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed back.
"Your beloved is having his own celebration," Aeswi replied, gesturing towards the window,"So the mormaers and I were talking as the king praised your beloved yet abnother time, and we decided that just because you are carrying out the bride's traditional role at this moment in time that you should miss out yourself." Osthryth smiled. Her men, or rather, those she had last commanded. It was touching they had not forgotten her.
"We're breaking you out!" Feilim gesturing to the window. Osthryth looked, and was greeted with a wave from Oengus. He and Uunst were on the ground floor at the foot of the tower and when they saw her, they waved.
"Come on," Feilim urged, holding out the rope for Osthryth. "We are going to make your last evening as a single warrior one you will never forget."
"Or never remember," added Aeswi, and offered Osthryth his hand.
8888888
And now it was so late that it was becoming early. Grey pre-dawn light was arriving on the horizon on the east, and the men were still bringing themselves more ale. Osthryth, despite her better judgment, had been drinking, and was sitting between Oengus and Aeswi as they and the half-dozen captains, with Uunst and Feilim ensuring no-one had an empty jar, laughing with the rest of them.
It had begun with praise for the bride to be, how Ceinid, who had indeed been hailed in the throneroom with his kin, would have a loyal and loving wife, would have a marvellous companion as his land was restored and would be worked again by a Pictish noble, of the line of Breidi - to which the Pictish lords raised raucous toasts, and how Osthryth would have an equally loyal and loving husband.
Then, it had begun to degenerate, first when a betting grid had been scored onto one of the table boards and they had begun to gamble with, at first, stones, and then pennies. This changed to the familiar "who's next to come in" game, which the Mercians, Osthryth remembered with good-humoured happiness, liked to play.
"We played this in Aylesbury," Aeswi went on to remind her. "I do with Merewalh and Aelfkin's men could have joined you. I sent word to him," he added, as Osthryth sipped at her third ale.
"We are indeed sorry we could not bring the Mercians," Oengus echoed, "Though we hate the bastard Sais, your men are our comrades." One of the guards looked at Oengus, before leaning back and draining his cup.
"So, who else has fought with Mercians?" he asked, banging the flagon onto the table.
"Ceansie, that is not how the game's played, and you know it," Uunst called over, burping, and putting his empty jar on the table next to his comrades. "You know you must say - " and Uunst looked around him, ""I have never fought with Mercians.""
Several of the men, and Osthryth both took bug sips of their ale, and those who had not fought with Mercians, all cheered.
"Oh, then, if we are playing this," Aeswi continued, giving Osthryth a grin, "I have nrver snuck out the window." The cheer went up as the mormaers, and Aeswi and Osthryth all had cause to drink.
"Come on, you buggers," Feilim said, looking around at them, then getting to his feet, " You need more drink!" And so Feilim was cheered when trod to the bar and the bar tender served him.
And it continued, as Osthryth watched the men celebrate her last night of being her. She listened and joined in as various assertions were made, "I have never taken money that didn't belong to me," was met with no drinkers at all, as did , "I have never told someone's secret," and "I have never been attracted to a friend."
"I have another," Uunst declared, giving Osthryth a wink. "I have never been with someone whom I did not love." Tankards remained still, including Osthryth's. When the men saw that that, there was a low cheer.
"Not including my intended tomorrow!" she put in, the beer emboldening her.
"Aye, but have yer ever been with the former love of my best friend?" Feilim looked at Osthyth carefully while others around her drank. Osthryth did not. After a short delay, someone began the cheer of "Yeah!" and raised tankards to Osthryth, their captain.
More cheers came when Feilim asked whether they had been blackout drunk, or been naked in public. Osthryth had never been either and watched instead the men roar and cheer at each other.
"Never have I been refused a kiss," Aeswi joined in, and Osthryth remembered him not being refused a kiss by Pyrlig, at Deubearth, Hywel's castle. How long ago that seemed - she had been expecting young Finan then; now he was nearly eight years old, soon old enough to be in training for the guard. Whether he wanted to, that was a different matter, though Osthryth resolved for him to learn the sword as well as to read.
"I have never shit and vomited to the same time," Feilim joined in.
"I have," Ceansie told them. "It was last winter and the fever was on us, on the coast."
"I remember that," Uunst replied. "Killed more Norse than our steel did."
"I turned to pick up my sword," Ceansie told them, wiping the froth from his next ale from his chin, my stomach pained, and I threw up - from both ends!" The men roared with laughter at the thought.
"Yes, you were sick all on me," Teamas told them, bitterly. "Though now, I am grateful it was out of your mouth, yer ceenie!"
They were enjoying the game, Osthryth thought, and she thought about Ceinid, across in the hall. Was he having a similar amount of fun? Was Constantine ragging him with personal questions? How drunk were they getting? Domhnall had been taken beyond the Britons' village and left there, out of his mind on uisge-beatha the night he and Eira were wed. So Constantine told him.
"I have never been someone else's alibi," Feilim's assertion interrupted Osthryth's thoughts, and she grinned at the lack of hands. She knew at least one of them had covered for another in the summer because he had got dead drunk and ended up in a boat that had come loose from its painter and drifted down the Forth. Ceansie, she thought, or his little brother Brocc.
"So yer lied when yer said yer'd never been arrested," Feilim went on. "I saw the pair of yer brought back by Ceinid, you half drowned," he added, nodding to Brocc. The young man's face fell.
"I swore," he told him, and glanced around at the table of merry-makers, that I would never touch the welcome water again, and to my life, I have not."
"Until tonight," Oengus told him, grinning. "There was a whole grain in the last jar we had." Was there? Osthryth thought. It didn't seem to have made much of a difference to her, and she smiled when Brocc looked worried.
"Then yer can't drink now, when I say, I have never been 'walked in on' while having sex," Feilim went on, making the young man blush.
"I was misled!" Brocc protested. "Tell them, Teamas!" His brother grinned.
"She was a whore, and you thought she was a Briton," Teamas told them. "Seren, wasn't that her name?"
"Seren," Brocc repeated, looking down. "And I thought she just liked talking."
"She liked talking well enough," Teamas told him. "Cheer up, I paid - it was your birthday, brathair beag!" He roared with laughter when Brocc got to his feet, knocking the table and some of the ales onto the floor at his outrage.
"Settle down, ap Meddeth!" Oengus told them, as both brothers began to tustle with one another. "Otherwise, you'll be dry in the future when someone asks, "I have never been thrown out of an alehouse." And his eye drifted to Osthryth. "Besides, we are here to annoy and embarrass the bride to be, are we not, on the night of her wedding? For tomorrow, there will be no captain Osthryth, there will only be farmer Osthryth, of Berric. We cannot leave our commander without memories of her last night being single?"
"And how do you propose we do that?" Feilim asked, and suddenly, Osthryth's mind was cloudy, was fuzzy from the ale adulterated with whisky, for when she tried to get up, her legs would not support her.
"I have never been attracted to anyone around this table," Feilim continued, looking at Osthryth as the rest of the men raised their jars. Osthryth raised hers, too, and Feilim looked at her, and across her body, a little disappointed. "I have never been unfaithful," he went on. Some of the men drank; many did not, which was not surprising she supposed. Osthryth made to raise hers, but her clouded mind brought forth images of Taghd, and Guthred, both of whom had been, technically, her husbands.
If Guthred had only been dead these last few years, it made her unfaithful to him, with Edward and Constantine. And Finan, she added. And she told herself that she was a warrior, and did as warriors did. Many were unfaithful, and besides, she had not wished to be married to Guthred.
"I have never been to a whore," Feilim continued, and Osthryth looked at him. Had he been there, when she had been in Mus's company? She was not a whore by economic necessity. And it had just been a kiss.
Osthryth noticed that, at the table, a woman was standing. Fair haired, she could only have been about Aedre's age.
"Come on, captain!" Feilim added, moving along the bench so that the young woman could sit between them, "Meet Maggie. She really wants to meet you!"
So to the sounds of cheering from the table, Maggie sat beside Osthryth, and placed a hand on her leg. "Oh!" she said, in amazement, "You really are a woman then?" She bent her head. "I've seen you fight, and I would have sworn you were a man!"
"Come on now, lads, let us leave the bride to be - she has but this one night!" He grinned at Osthryth. "We have all contributed," he added. "Come on, you bastards!" And even Aeswi waved to Osthryth as they left, Maggie easing her hand up Osthryth's leg.
"I hear you are strong," Maggie continued, and leaned her head to Osthryth's neck, kissing her collarbone. "I - "
But whatever else Maggie was about to say, Osthryth got up, sharply. She nodded to the whore, and then stumbled towards the door, alone, looking out into the early morning. The sky was clear and the air cold. It caught Osthryth's head and made her dizzy. Unused to drinking, her head was hot, and she pulled at her jerkin, supporting herself by one of the trees that lined the river.
Not dizzy enough to not know that there was a fast-flowing death trap just below her, and Osthryth eased her way along the bank towards Dunnottar, one tree at a time, catching her breath at each one, the tower in which she was supposed to be sleeping coming slowly into view.
As Osthryth turned the corner near the stables, a crunch on the dry cold earth made her turn around. No sword, she thought - at the armoury, no need for it by a woman locked inside a tower for the night. Taghd's seax was up there, too, next to the bed. Then, a hand came to her shoulder.
Osthryth struggled under its grip, and she flailed at the man who was trying to grab at her.
"Osthryth!" she heard, a protest, and then, "OSTHRYTH!" as she caught him in the face. She blinked as the man turned back, and she saw at once who it was.
"Domnall!" she exclaimed. "What are you - "
"I came up to find you, and saw you going down to the alehouses with the warriors," he told her. "So I followed you, to make sure you got back all right. Feilim," he added, with a hiss. "I knew he was up to something!"
"Up to something like Maggie? Or spiking the drinks?" Osthryth asked, now feeling light-headed, and finding the situation, now she was in Domnall's company, amusing.
"Or something," Domnall told her. "Could have been stripping you naked and tying you to a tree. That's what they did when Davi got married. But, I suppose - " He glanced to Osthryth and then to the tower. "Did you climb down?"
"Yes. And I need to be back up there when Constantine sends, well, you I suppose, to bring me down for the wedding. He wants it done properly, doesn't he?"
Properly meant all of the ceremony of the wedding, the customs and the rituals, one of them being the summoning of the bride. And Osthryth could hardly be summoned if she were this side of the tower.
"Come on," Domnall told her. "The rope's still there. I'll climb up, and you can come up after. I'll help you," he added, as Osthryth's doubt was writ on her face. She followed him across the ground, and up to the foot of the tower. The stout, hearty rope was indeed there, and Domnall scaled it with ease. Less easy-footed was Osthryth and she tried to press her feet to the wall, her arms seeming to floar around her as she tried to push up. She got half way when the co-ordination of her arms and legs failed her, and she caught the rope around her arm as she stumbled.
"Hold on!" Domnall's voice came up from the window. "Hold the rope!" And Osthryth found herself being pulled up by her friend, who grinned when she got to the window sill.
"I have never been too drunk to get to my own bedroom!" Domnall teased as he put out an arm for Osthryth to hold onto as she climbed back in. "I have never let my men lead me into mischief with a woman of the night!"
"Domnall!" Osthryth asked, "Did you follow us?"
"I followed what I thought was a drunken group of warriors. i thought it to be the young warriors. Imagine my surprise when I saw it was you with your men - off to dance with the Sidhe, as far as I knew." Osthryth groaned. It had been a long time since she had been this drunk.
"I have never been the alibi for a lying friend," Domnall told her, as he escorted her to her bed.
"I have never been a bride who will wear a dress like that," Osthryth told him, nodding to the luxuriant silk dress that Constantine had had commissioned for her and Ealasaid and her maids had sewn."
"I have never been prouder of a friend," Domnall told her, sitting down next to her, and patting her hand. "Giving up the happiness of her heart for the sensible life. For her son." Osthryth turned her head slowly to Domnall.
"Osthryth, you do not have to do this," he told her, glancing over his shoulder at the windown, to the short stretch of water over which Osthryth had once crossed, trying to flee the family that she had been given to by the monks, assuming they were their daughter.
"You don't have to marry Ceinid Ui Alpin, just to please Constantine."
"What makes you think I don't love Ceinid?" Osthryth asked him.
"Like you love that Ulaid bastard?" he asked her, and there was a taste of bitterness in his voice, like elderberry spirit that hadn't sat for long enough. Osthryth shook her head.
"Why?" he put in. "Why do you always do what Constantine wants?" And Domnall had raised a hand carefully to her cheek, his gloved fingers lightly touching her face where Constantine had hit her. "He treats you like this, he - "
"I'm going," Osthryth told him, and took his hand, and then his other. "I do love Ceinid, in my own way," she assured Domnall. "And I will no longer be at Dunnottar, but at Berric, with my own land of my husband's, a master of it. With young Finan beside me." Domnall smiled.
"A farmer," he mused, taking Osthryth's hand. "Do you know much about farming?"
"Not much," Osthryth had laughed. "But I can learn."
And Domnall kissed her, drawing him to her, and putting his mouth on hers. They broke off after a moment, and then both descended into fits of childish giggling.
"It's no good!" Domnall told her, unable to conceal an uneasy smile. "I just - it's not right, with you."
"I know," Osthryth agreed, and let him pull her to his chest and put his arms around her. And she would have had him stay, like the times they were together, hiding from something ot other, and just talking. True, honest friends. It would be like that until death. But that was a long way off yet, in a different time, and a different place.
"You're going?" asked Osthryth, plaintively, as Domnall moved to the window.
"You can't have the door unlocked by me in the morning if I'm on the other side of it." He glanced to the dress. "You are going to look beautiful," he added. And, when Domnall reached the window, he added, "Undo the rope, and I'll take it away. You were never out of your tower, princess."
88888888
And it was after the door-opening ceremony, and the walk to the chapel. It was after the brief exchange of looks between her and the King of Alba, and the vows and the hand-tying, and the swearing of fealty to one another. The ale and the uisge-beatha had not been the best thing to have the night before, with a lack of sleep but, as Osthryth had concluded before, weddings were not determined by the bride and the groom, but those around them, putting things into place.
Aedre, such an image of her mother that Osthryth thought it was Thyra, walked just behind her as Constantine took her arm to the chapel's priest, and young Finan, supposedly also behind her, had looked up at his mother. He had slipped a hand into hers, reluctant to let go as the vows were said, and was allowed to stand by her, as if reminding Ceinid Ui Alpin that it was young Finan's mother he was marrying.
"A ceremony? I am no maid," Osthryth had said to Ceinid, once they had spoken about it, when they had returned to Dunnottar after Corbridge, both by different routes. Constantine had apparently been in discussion with Ceinid about the events, and had left him to tell Osthryth.
"It is how the king wishes it to be done, how it is done in our family. And yours, I understand."
Then, like now, Ceinid drew her to him, supporting her back as he leaned over her. He pressed his lips to hers, gently, and Osthryth shivered. It was no secret she was attracted to Ceinid, but had never opened her mind to it. Now, the world quieted, the birds stopped singing. The sun stopped moving its way across the sky. It was just Osthryth and Ceinid, they were joined, and she shivered.
And so there was feasting, and toasts to the house of Breidi of Pictland and Ida of the Angles, and food from the harvest and wine.
As the evening became night, and singing became music, which became dancing, Osthryth felt that she really could not be happier. She did love Ceinid; she did want to be his wife in all things. The land was midway between Bebbanburg and the Forth, at Berric, apt, she considered, for a union of Pict and Angle.
"An leabaidh!" A voice came, out of the singing and the dancing and the merriment. Osthryth, in her form-fitting dress and her hand on her husband's, almost missed the call. Ealasaid had told her about the tradition, and at the call of, "The bed!" both the bride and the groom had to run off, and away from the pursuing wedding party, who were trying to get them together. If they managed to find their way to one another without help from their pursuers, they could go, unhindered, to their bed. If not, they had to be escorted, and the "bedding in" witnessed by the victors. So much for, "I have never been seen having sex".
Now, she was at the back of the stables, contemplating the ledge onto which she would have to reach to be out of the chase - the guests, Osthryth could hear, were not far away, at the back of the kitchens. Down, and she would be in the armoury. Osthryth knew Ceinid would make his way there, assuming he hadn't been caught. He wouldn't have been, she knew. Osthryth reckoned herself to be over fifty, which made Ceinid in his early sixties. But age belied his agility - he had bettered dozens of Ragnall's Norse half his age at Corbridge.
"Osthryth, are you here?" Ceinid crept into the armoury, barring the door, glancing down at the wet trail from her boots. Osthryth put her hands to her face, trying to suppress a laugh - the chase by Domnall, Oengus, Feilim to get them together had caused her heart to beat quickly, and it hammered in her chest. The man who was most important to her had found her - Ceinid - her husband - and she watched him bolt the door behind him.
"Osthryth, it's me," Ceinid called. He looked at the rafters, and beside the bridlery, behind the screen where the brushes were kept.
And Osthryth looked at her husband, a man she had known for forty years, his black hair to his shoulders, long, lean nose, sharp blue eyes, a lithe, strong body, and realised that, while she did not love him as she loved Finan, with heart that ached, with stomach that pained, she cared for him, cared for him deeply.
Ceinid had never once let her down; he had been a man everyone could turn, he had carried out every duty without ever a complaint. And Osthryth knew he wanted her, and had restrained himself, had never taken advantage of her, not once.
"Osthryth?" He looked up, because she could not help giggling, laughing, with the happiness that any bride should feel on her wedding day. Ceinid looked up, drawing a slow smle across his faced, amused, and out his hands to his hips.
"There you are," he said to her, as Osthryth laughed again. "Come down then? Aedre has taken them a merry dance around the castle."
And Osthryth climbed over the beam and down to the loft level, before climbing down the ladder. Ceinid watched her with amusement.
"Your beautiful dress is wet," he told her, as he out a hand to shoulder. "Look, you need to - "
And it was Osthryth kissing Ceinid now, her husband. A man in whose arms she felt safe. She pressed her lips to his, and he gathered his arms around her, pulling at the shoulder straps of the dress, so it came down her arms. Goosebumps raised on her skin, but it was not the cold, and Ceinid rubbed her arms with his hands, not stopping as his eyes lit over her ancient injuries.
Osthryth stopped kissing him as he stroked her naked back and, because he stopped touching her for a moment, she knew Ceinid was looking at the scars, worse than ever she had suffered by Griogair's hand, at Aethelwold's hand. At Uhtred's. But then he kissed her again, and eased down the rest of her dress, so that Osthryth stood before him, naked, and he took a step back and looked at his wife.
And then Ceinid took his cloak and threw it around her shoulders, gathering her to him, and just then a crunch of boots on stone drew his glance, and a rattling of the stable door.
Osthryth giggled into his shoulder as the banging came again, and Ceinid took Osthryth's hand and drew her to the back of the stables.
"Ceinid? Are you in there?" Domnall's voice came through the gaps between the oak. "Ceinid? Come out! We need to bed you!"
And at this, Ceinid drew Osthryth to him, for she was shaking with laughter, and when they heard his footsteps leave she drew away from him and saw his face, as he half-laughed, half gasped at the hilarity of it all, in his happiness, in his joy.
With a swift tug at the hand Osthryth broke her grasp, and tore off up the steps to the hay loft, laughing at escaping from him again, and she sat above as he took the ladder two rungs at a time.
This time, Osthryth put out her hand, allowing Ceinid's cloak to fall from her. Everything that her body told, her life on her flesh, was visible to him and Ceinid looked over her, until he took two steps towards her, and stopped.
Then he began to take off his own clothes, jerkin, shirt, and then boots, until he standing in just his leather breeches which he unlaced and allowed to fall down to his ankles.
Osthryth had never seen a man standing fully naked before her and Ceinid was a sight to behold. A good ten years older than her, there was not a single ounce of excess flesh, and every muscle in his body was defined, froma lifetime of physical activity.
But he was not hard, not in the least, and Osthryth wondered whether she should take the initiative. As she was considering the "how", the decision was taken from her for Ceinid stepped over the tufts of hay and stood in front of Osthryth, taking her face in his hands.
Gently, slowly, he placed his lips on hers and Osthryth drew her hands around his back, placing her fingers on his ribs, moving them up and down, and was surprised when she felt a stirring by her leg. Just from the kiss? Just from her touch?
And Ceinid continued to kiss Osthryth, moving his lips down her neck, to her collarbone, and to Osthryth, all the time in the world had been given to them for that purpose.
She let out a sigh, deep, and out if time to her own breathing - just Ceinid's kiss was turning her on, and she moved her feet to regain her balance as a fluttering feeling came around her hips and down the outside of her thighs. Already? How can just her husband's kiss have got her so far already?
It seemed it had got that far for him too, and Osthryth glanced down and saw not an unsizeable cock pressing against her thigh. She put out her hand, but Ceinid took it in his and drew her touch away.
"Not yet," he told her, and to emphasise the face, he leaned down and drew his arm under her knees, taking a few steps to the hay pile, and placed her down in it. Osthryth wriggled a little, and Ceinid kissed her, before leaning away from her for a moment, and looking into her eyes.
"I love you Osthryth, and always have. We can stop here, now, if you wish; we can just lie beside one another." When Osthryth had said nothing, for her mind was too crowded with thoughts, Ceinid added, "If you do not wish me to go too far, then - "
But Osthryth put a finger to his mouth, before pulling it away and replacing it with her mouth.
"I can no longer bear children, Ceinid," she told him. "I do not know whether this displeases you or not - "
"I would not like you to become ill again, Osthryth," he told her, gently. "You nearly died last time. I want you, for the rest of my life - I would die before you, Osthryth, because I could not bear a day without you in the world, living...being my wife...I do not need you to have my children to prove you are my wife." He touched her hair, braided expertly by Ealasaid, tangling his fingers into the plaits and combing out some of her hair.
And then there were no more words. Words were replaced with kisses, were replaced with Ceinid's embrace if her, pulling her close, so their flesh, at the chest, at the stomach, arms, hands, were touching.
Osthryth did not know if there was any order to what he was doing, as he touched her breasts, gently at first, and then with more vigour, squeezing them and he kissed her face and neck again, and the shivering in her lower body increased by measure, until she was sure that just her husband's kiss would make her come.
Ceinid's hand then travelled to her legs, and very slowly trailed up a hand, until he reached her cunt, but Osthryth was too far on to need the encouragement that the pushing of her clitoris would achieve. Ceinid arched his back as Osthryth kissed his neck, and plunged on. They became one, as if they were meant to be. He was good, he was very good.
And, as they slept in the hay until the next morning arrived, Osthryth knew that, for once in her life, she had done the right thing. She was married into the Ui Alpin family now, and was going to be a farmer. And Ceinid, her husband, could do that to her every night for the rest of their lives.