Summer 924
"Lady." The knock on her door on a fine summer morning woke Osthryth up sharply. It was Caltigar, and he was more than a little agitated.
Little had changed since she had arrived back from Tamworth, or, if it had, Osthryth was unaware of it. She kept herself isolated from politics, welcomed visitors and offered them hospitality, showed gratitide to Constantine that Domnall commanded the ships to guard her coast when Norse seemed to be more prevalent.
Other than that, she was the lord of the land, presiding over planting and ploughing and harvesting, lambing and slaughter, food preparation for the long winters, and dispenser of justice. She had also been the person both Caltigar and Rhia had come to see when they had wanted to wed.
Osthryth could not think of a better match than her estate manager and her kitchen manager. Caltigar was loyal and quiet, who prayed to God in the secluded manner of the Irish church. Rhia, more lively, attended to her prayers with good spirits, and it was quite clear they loved one another. Two babies had already been born to them, and another was on the way.
And Osthryth kept to her schedule of rising at dawn and patrolling her estate. Except for this morning, it seemed, where she had overslept and Caltigar had had to knock.
"Lady," Caltigar called again, and Osthryth asked him to wait for a moment. When she was dressed for the day, she called him in and he stood, gravely, by the door.
"A man was seen, by Beann, crossing your land late last night," he told her. "And again this morning." This wasn't unusual. They had been lucky with reiver raids in recent years, she supposed they were due one.
"This man, do we know anything about him?"
"Only - " Caltigar hesitated, "That he terrified the cowherds and made them hide in the bothy." Osthryth felt her stomach harden. Some bastard come to cause trouble, then.
"Increase the guard," Osthryth told him. "I will come on watch tonight." But, as she was speaking, a figure on a horse rode down from the higher ground in the south west towards the farm's hall. Osthryth went downstairs and waited at the threshold.
It was not Finan. If it had been Finan, her heart would have lifted with joy. If he had been with young Finan, her heart would be higher still.
"Why are you here?" Osthryth asked him, the barriers of defensiveness rising in her mind. She couldn't help it - she had to be on her guard with Uhtred around. And now he had come onto her land, whereas before he had made a point of stopping at the boundary, and not just crossing her land. Uhtred had come to her very door.
"You scared off my cowherds," Osthryth told him, hand on the door frame.
"Your fences were broken," Uhtred replied.
"They were not. Perhaps a trespasser broke them."
"Perhaps," Uhtred conceded, indifferently. "I have news."
"What news?" Now she felt anxious. Was it Finan? Her son? Osthryth noticed that Uhtred had paused to let her think that, to worry her.
"You should know that Edward of Wessex is dead," Uhtred told her.
And that was that. He had ridden nearly thirty miles to tell her that to her face.
"Hold on," Osthryth called back to her brother. "You come into my land, destroyed my fences, scare my people, refuse my hospitality, to tell me this?"
But, Uhtred simply turned his horse around and began to ride away, accelerating as he got to the higher ground, before going over the ridge, without even looking back.
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"Would you ever ask me not to fight?" Finan asked Osthryth as he kissed her forehead. Osthryth looked up. He had arrived back on the afternoon of Uhtred's unannounced arrival, and was taken aback at the guards who had greeted him.
"No, I never would," Osthryth told him, as she lay in her favourite position, her head on his chest, her arms wrapped around him, while her husband's arms were wrapped around her.
"And I would never ask you," he told her.
Osthryth wondered where this was leading. There was always a long run-up when Finan wanted to talk about anything that might be troublesome
"Do you remember the last time power was transferred in the kingdoms?" he asked her. Osthryth looked up, to see his face.
"When Aethelflaed died, you mean?"
"Yes, I do mean that," Finan replied. "And how the remaining leaders went off their heads and invaded and took advantage of one another's lands and assets?"
"Finan, Uhtred deigned to come into our land to tell me this morning," Osthryth told him
"He did?" Finan did indeed seem to be genuinely surprised by this.
"So, you did not have a hand in it? Edward's death?" Osthryth asked. Finan regularly told her, usually after they had had sex, how it would be that he would kill Edward. Or Constantine or Domnall.
"Not I," Finan told her, with a grin. "I have alibis."
"What I think," Osthryth told him, taking pity on her husband and also to make things much faster, "Is that I should remain at our land and tend our affairs. And if any such kings and lords come our way, use our garrison for defence?" She watched relief spread over Finan's face.
"I would agree that would be a marvellous idea," Finan told her.
And that he, Finan, should return to Bebbanburg. But not yet. Not until Osthryth had crept down his body and arranged her mouth over his cock, bringing him to stiffness. Not before he had held her head as she brought him off, his spunk spilling over her mouth.
Not before he had turned Osthryth over and work her way down her body, starting at her neck, working his way down her neck, and his hands on her breasts, which he then took in his mouth. Not before he had worked her to closeness, and she him, his cock so large that she wondered, as she always did, how she ever accommodated it.
How she had gone on top and ridden her husband, until he could come no longer, until she sank into his arms. Until they worked up enough strength to do it all over again.
And afterwards, Finan did return to Bebbanburg, and Osthryth did ride to the border of her land and Uhtred's to watch him disappear into the distance.
And after that, when Osthryth had returned to her hall, and stared at her table. Something had happened, something unbelievbly grave that she stood quite still for a long time, staring at it.
A sword - her sword, Buaidh, had been placed over the seat of her chair. It was a challenge, one given by a Briton to a Briton. It meant, "I think you are avoiding your responsibilities. Strap me to your hip, and go."
Bur Osththrth did not go. Not immediately, anyway, not to see Edward and bow to his shround, and remember the times she had served him.
It was, however, when her son came back to her, returned from Bebbanburg, in ignominy. Finan had sent him back to Berric for being adamant that he wanted to be a sceleocht, and either not trying, or being lazy. Or some other reason she couldn't quite get to the bottom of.
"Come on," Osthryth told him, striding to the stable. The two farmhands who were pracrising with Beann stopped, and nodded to Osthryth, who smiled at them and waved to show them she wanted them to continue.
"Where re we going?" young Finan asked, as Osthryth handed him Ceinid's sword, which she had kept after his death.
"To support the man who would be king of all of the island of Britain. Aethelstan," she added. "We are going to fight for Mercia, and ensure that he gets to London, and the crown of Wessex.
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Except that, when she had got to the Great North Road, her journey took her north instead. Osthryth turned her bridle and deliberately went that way. It was clear in her mind that she did this, an image so stark that, on that fateful day some years in the future, she could even see the groundsel and the poppies growing on the scrubby heathland.
They had only got as far as Berric's pack horse bridge when she realised she had company.
"I don't know how long I am staying," Osthryth told Caltigar and Beann, when they had caught up with her and declared they were coming too.
To the place where Osthryth knew, deep down, she would go when Edward died and the turmoil began. Dunnottar had thick walls, thick walls and mighty rivers and people she loved, and who loved her, and who could protect Berric.
She was going to Alba.
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Was it Osthryth's imagination that it seemed that Constantine was ready to see her? Certainly there were boats available across the Forth from Culdees, where usually at that time of year they were overbooked for merchants and farmers.
And her heart began to soar when she saw the guards on the gates and in the ramparts, when she found Uunst at the front gate instructing some of the mormaers' sons on how to raise it.
"And then it goes up, and you latch it on the second hook, to secure it," Osthryth finished for him, "Not the first. No-one ever knows why the first one was put there." It was an old instruction, with an added anecdote, that all guards told when given the job of teaching new people. Uunst stared at her.
"Don't you recognise me with long hair?" Osthryth asked him. Uunst had to glance to young Finan before any sort of clue came to him.
"Osthryth?" he asked, faintly, after the brain cells dug out the right answer from so long ago.
"Osthryth," she confirmed. She was home. Home at Alba, where she belonged.
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Osthryth could not stop, no, willingly encouraged young Finan to go off to explore the castle, and all of his old haunts. Aedre was home, somewhere, having returned from Culdees and her studying of the languages and art that she loved. Aeswi had met Caltigar and Beann, and had taken them to the armoury.
"He has grown," Constantine told her, when she stood before him. He had watched her approach and had waited for her to come, he told her. "Like I used to watch you with the fisher-boys who used to come," he added. Ulf and Gert, Osthryth remembered, Frisian fishermen, who she had liked and played with as a child around Dunnottar fortress and defended her to Ealasaid when the woman asked why Osthryth's jobs had not been done.
Who had helped her flee Dunnottar, and had taken her all the way to Hamptun when she had run from Alba and had gone instead to search for Uhtred, in Wessex.
"They did feed him at Bebbanburg," Osthryth told him.
"But?" Constantine prompted. And Osthryth wished then she was more like Finan, who could string out bad news all day.
"He did not...thrive...I never got to the bottom of why, before we left," Osthryth told him. "I will train him, or else..."
"Dubhcan," Constantine told her.
"Dubhcan?"
"He is a fine warrior, and an excellent teacher. His young fighters have had to turn their interest east, to my shame."
East. To Strathclyde? Was there unrest there? She had heard that Owain had, if not bowed the knee to Edward, tipped his hat to the king of Wessex. Had the king of Strathclyde taken it further, now?
"And why did you leave?" Constantine asked. It was the question of the day, the ultimate question. And Osthryth had to focus to tell him.
"Because a war is coming," Osthryth said, plainly, "And I need to be here, inside these walls, with my people for a time. I'm visiting," she added. And Constantine nodded, as if he had known all along, as if it were knowledge so common that it was never ever mentioned.
"Come, sit," he said to her, crossing to the settle in the alcove of his throne room, the old Constantine returning, the friendly, amiable man Osthryth had known from time to time. And she did, and he offered her his hand, and Osthryth took it. She hadn't even known she had needed to take it, but when she did, it made her feel much calmer, much more at peace.
"I take instruction now at Culdees," Constantine told Osthryth. "Oh, not to become a priest, far from it," he laughed, waving away her astonished expression. "I find I can focus on the needs of my kingdom much more if I have had time alone with God. The monks are giving me some excellent insights into His word. Perhaps there is only a particular time in your life when you are ready to receive it?"
Perhaps, Osthryth thought. If it were true, he had the most stable kingdom in the whole of the island of Britain. Norse were contained; skirmishes were handled.
"Whoever is Edward's successor will believe the alliance you held with Aethelflaed was a submission document," she postulated. "What does Owain say?"
And that was when she discovered that Constantine at war with Norse of Strathclyde and Owain, who let the Norse settle. "He has an understanding with Edward that the West Saxons wil keep the Norse in check, as long as Owain accepts Edwards overlordship."
Yes, of the three kingdoms, only two survived as a union, but Owain was far more Gaelish-orientated, culturally than he was Saxon. He would see that, Osthryth was sure.
"Accepted," Osthryth said, softly. Constantine turned and took her hand.
"Tell me, after all these years, did you love him? Edward?" Osthryth gave a faint smile but shook her head.
"No," she told him, "I liked him, served him."
And Constantine told her about Aedre, and her time at Culdees, how she had been working with the monks and furthering her knowledge of the languages that she loved.
"Come with me, Mhathair," Aedre urged, with the bright, confdent manner of someone who was used to getting their own way. "You do not need to train today." Osthryth thought differently, but she yielded to the enthusiasm of her daughter and allowed her to take her over the water to Culdees.
"This is what I have been working on," she told her mother, and Osthryth gasped as she saw a large letter "C" which was being illuminated with gilt and blue and red. The part she had done looked as if there was light radiating out from the page, and she felt a stab of guilt that she had doubted in her mind that Aedre could produce work of such beauty.
"Beadda says if it is good enough it will be included in the gospel book that Athair s having made," Aedre told Osthryth, showing her the pages that other monks had made. "The Iona one was taken, lost, or burned by the Norse when they invaded there, so this is a copy of what we know was in it. Young FInan used to help me, before he went to his father, Aedre added. He liked it a lot, as he liked listening to the stories - a monk showed him, and he has learned them by heart.
"Of course he did," Osthryth told Aedre, smiling, and then a thought occurred to her. "Beadda, is he an elderly monk? Did he come from Lindisfarne as young man?" If it was the same man, he had treated her hand when she had been shot at by arrows rrom Bebbanburg when she was trying to escape. He must have been over seventy if it was him.
"Yes," Aedre agreed. "He helps me with everything, shows me the written documents of Denmark and Norway." She glanced at her page. "And Eireann and Pictland and Dal Riata too," she added, loyally. "The Gospels are like the ones you told me about, when you went to Doire, do you rmeember?"
"Yes," Osthryth replied, stiffly, not wishing to be reminded of her time there. To Aedre, though, Osthryth's life was was all matter of fact.
"And he showed me how to tell the sticks," Aedre continued, reaching into a drawer and pulling out set of runesticks, wrapped up in a linen cloth. "He showed me a document which told me," she admitted.
"No!" Osthryth declared, as Aedre was about to tip them out. "Not in a monastery!" And she and Aedre went out into the pasture behind the monastery and walked in the merry sunshine. Yet, Osthryth had done worse, with the trainee monk, Anndra, she recalled. Aedre found a flat part of the ground and threw them out.
"Those there," she told Osthryth, "Means conflict. And those there, new life. And a good harvest, and good fishing. Things are going well for you."
"For me?" Osthryth asked. "You read the runesticks for me?" Aedre smiled.
"And no doubt, if I told you we are having good growing and fishing weather, and that the king of the West Saxons has died, so this is the conflict and the new life? And that all I had to do was to listen to information from the kingdoms, and Munadd?"
Aedre thought about this for a second, and then said to Osthryth, "I am glad to see that the runesticks agree." And Osthryth brought her to her arms and gave Aedre a hug.
"I am glad you want to know your heritage," Osthryth told her. "And Anlaf?" At this, Aedre blushed.
"Athair told me I can marry him still, or I need not, if I do not wish."
"And what do you wish?" Osthryth asked.
"To marry Anlaf," her daughter told her. "But Athair - "
"Men see daughters as treaties," Osthryth told her. "They do not remember hearts and feelings, and that a daughter's life will change when she marries. Don't let him have too much of a say, or he will have you in this monastery for the rest of your life. You need to live," Osthryth added.
"Like you did?" Aedre asked. There was no malice in it, and Osthryth took her daughter's hand.
"Not like I did, I would never recommend my life to anyone. I just mean, give yourself a chance to leave Dunnottar, and see what the world is like?"
"And come back, like you," Aedre told her. How was it that this bright young woman was so insightful.
"I am proud you are my daughter," Osthryth told her. And then watched Aedre's face brighten.
"Mhathair, I have something to show you," she told Osthryth, and she hurried into the monastery, Osthryth behind her.
"Can you read it?" she asked Osthryth, after laying a small piece of parchment on the writing table. The sunlight lit up the letters as it shone through the large window. "Cymric is hard for me.
Osthryth could, and she told Aedre that, whoever this person was, owned fifty hides and three hundred acres at Eamont Bridge, Penrith, in Cumbraland.
"This is a transcript of a real document that was sent with the person whose name is written on the other side," Aedre told Osthryth. And Osthryth turned it over and saw, in neat handwriting, that the owner was one Gwythelth of Caer Ligualid.
"Gwythelth?" Osthryth asked, looking at the document again, before resting her eyes on Aedre's animated face. "My father could not pronounce her name - she told me this sometimes, and she changed it to her for Gytha." Osthryth smiled, as she remembered her mother. "So, my mother inherited land and animals from her country. It must be Uhtred's now." And she thought of the sheaf of documents that Father Beocca had saved for her brother, the land and titles for Bebbanburg. Was the orignal of her mother's with these?
"No," Aedre said. "Of course not."
"Of course not?" Osthryth repeated, and watched an expression of disbelief cross her daughter's face.
"Yours, you mean," Aedre said.
"If I had been a man," Osthryth mused. And Aedre shook her head.
"Don't tell me you have never heard of Brehon law?" Osthryth thought, then shook her own head.
"Brehon law is the law of Eireann, of the Gaels, on which the church is based. It has specific things in it," Aedre continued, "Including - " and she pointed to Gwythelth's name, "A mother passing on the land to her daughters." She then waved a hand. "As you are her only daughter, this is yours alone, and there is no question of dividing it equally," Aedre added.
"You are saying the land belonging to my mother's is...mine?"
"Yes," Aedre said, simply. "Wasn't the claim to Cumbraland through your mother, when you married Guthred?" Osthryth said nothing, but glanced out of the window. She really did not want to be reminded of her time at Caer Ligualid. Her life seemed to have got worse and worse from that time, until she had fought vagabonds who had attacked Lord Odda, and he had taken her into his service.
"Yes," Osthryth told her. Aedre shook her head, and glanced down to Osthryth's paper again. "Then, it is plausible, that the land that Guthred had became yours, on his death."
Osthryth stared. This was unbelievable. Could she really think that there was land that she could claim under a law system she had never heard of? And it could give her Cumbraland.
"Yes!" Aedre told her, disbelievingly. "You really don't know, Mhathair?"
"No, that's ridiculous," Osthryth told her. But Aedre smiled.
"You don't know about Brehon law?"
"Who does?"
"Why, everybody," Aedre told her. "Ask Ealasaid, Glymrie. Ask the mormaers. Ask the stable boy and Athair, and - " Aedre broke off, and frowned.
"What is the name of the land that your family came from? That Gwythelth came from?"
"Cumbraland?" Osthryth asked, blankly.
"Noooo," Aedre said, ponderously. "It covered north of the Wall; it went to the Clyde?"
"Rheged?" Osthryth asked.
"So," Aedre told her mother, authoritatively, "Brehon law says property is passed down the female line - this is your land," she added, pointing to the parchment. "And Cumbraland is your land, because of Guthred, because you married him."
"But - " But Aedre held up a hand.
"Because," she told Osthryth, answering the question her mother was struggling to even ask, "You owned land prior to his claim. He was crowned, was he not?"
"Yes," Osthryth replied, weakly.
"So it is your land," Aedre, told her. "And if Cumbraland is your land, the kingdom that was prior to Cumbraland and Strathclyde is also yours."
"Aedre, you should be a law-sayer," Osthryth told her.
"A skalk?" she told her.
"Not a poet."
"No," Aedre told her. "A skald is much more than that. They remember land deeds, inheritance, who is bonded to who, who has an oath to whom and who has broken one." She looked about at the tightly-packed shelves. "I have been given such an opportunity here; if I had been left in Winchester..." She tailed off.
If she had been left in Winchester, she would have died. If Osthryth had not gone to selfishly unburden herself to Thyra, who had already suffered so much, and still had room to listen to Osthryth, she would not have dragged her from the flames. How different her own life would have been, Osthryth knew, for only the thought of keeping Aedre alive, and finding a place of safety for her, had compelled her to return to Alba.
"You know your father, Beocca, was a law-sayer," she told him. "Or a law-writer, so to speak. He was a very knowledgeable man. In fact, there was little he did not know." Osthryth shook her head. "I wish I had listened more, and not escaped up into the rafters and pretended to have worked," she told Aedre.
"It is good to know that about him." She sighed, as she folded the parchment containing the valuable information and handing it to her mother. "It is a pity that Brehon law does not apply to my family - " she looked at Osthryth. "I don't suppose you would know what land my grandmother would have had, do you?" Osthryth shook her head.
"Ragnar, your grandafather, took land south of Bebbanburg. I don't think that the Danes kept many written documents."
"Oh, that's where the skalds come in," Aedre said, brightly. "They remember the history." She looked at the shelves, and then further along, to a table containing what looked like a map, and beckoned Osthryth with her. She looked, and could see the map had places such as "Stirling" and "Dunkeld" and "Glaschu" written onto it.
"Here is Caer Ligualid," Aedre said, pointing. "And the Roman wall, and the Ceastre Newydd, at the coast." Osthryth nodded.
"So where is Bebbanburg?" Osthryth pointed, and further up, at what looked like the course of a river, she pointed again.
"Berric," she told Aedre. "And here, Melrose, where your father lived, and Culdees," she pointed to the south of the Forth. "Here Dunnottar."
"And where is "Rheged"?" Aedre asked. And Osthryth located Caer Ligualid, and Glaschu, and drew a line with her finger between the two.
"But there is also the area with huge lakes - not even the Romans could tame the people there. And here," Osthryth squinted, "Is Eamont Bridge." She blinked, and looked at the territory again. If she compared it to the east coast, the area covered almost the same area as Bernicia. It made sense - Rheged was very powerful, hundreds of years ago. The Hen Ogledd, people of the North, had Coel Hen, King Cole, and Urien, who fought at Catraech and was betrayed by Morcant of Dun Eidynn.
She looked at the map again. No trace of a place called Dun Eidynn now - she had never even heard of it. Had Morcant's treachery been fatal to a whole people?
"But I would need an army to take it," Osthryth thought aloud. "I don't think my dozen farm boys, even with their warrior training, would manage it. And I think Owain would take exception to my invading his land."
"Mhathair, you always think so...so...martially. Everything with you is battle and fighting. You just need a declaration."
"A declaraton?"
"Yes," the girl replied, brightly. "At a place such as Stirling, yes, Stirling," she told her mother, as if Osthryth was now immediately planning to do this. "Because King Domhnall brought the stone from Eireann," and she traced a rough route that Domhnall might have travelled from Teamreach to Stirling, as Osthryth took in Rathlin and Iona and Dunadd as destinations in between.
"And so," she concluded, "This represents the planting of Brehon law being physically brought into law, transferring from Eireann, through the king, through the church, even through the earth itself."
It was eloquent, Osthryth would give her that. And she would take Aedre any day to represent her interests in law. Maybe if she was up for the murder of her brother, for example.
And yet, Osthryth thought, I am still stuck in the idea of a witan, where the next king was decided - which was why Aethelwold did not become king, because the witan did not think him throneworthy - and that men inherited and women didn't. This Brehon law was alien to everything she knew.
"It sounds wonderful," Osthryth told Aedre, when they had crossed the Forth and were walking the short grass towards Dunnottar. "But the land would have gone to my father."
Aedre laughed. "Haven't you been listening, Mhathir? The land never went to your father, because under Brehon law, it is yours!" And she continued to talk about the pigments she was getting, that Constantine was buying for her illumination. A blue, called lapis that came from so far away no-one had ever drawn it on a map. Another came from a rock from the land the Romans came from, that gave a green.
And Osthryth, who then went to see her son work through his exercises against Aeswi, who flashed her a smile and nodded approvingly to young Finan, thought about the deed of land for Berric, that Constantine had come all the way to the farm to give her into her hand. No mention of Finan's name, or Ceinid's: the document said the land was hers, Osthryth of Berric, it had said.
A week later, the Trinity returned to Dunnottar, Domnall's flagship, with the rest of the fleet, limping in battered but proudly carrying all her crew. Osthryth watched them inch up the Forth, powered by oar once they had rounded the headland.
As she watched the sailors get ashore, it was then she knew, that she needed to leave. Ceinid was not here, and life had moved on, and she needed to go back to the land that was once his, and his family's.
And she went to watch them come in, tired and injured, not knowing that this was the best she would ever see the Alba navy return. Then, she turned to the courtyard. Beann was training outside Dunnottar's stables under Drostan' tutelage while Dubhcan nodded approvingly, while young Finan fought with one of the younger training boys.
He seemed a little behind in his sword skill, but was getting better by the day, and Osthryth wondered what he had learned in the four years he had been with his father at Bebbanburg. Or what he had not. If it was to fight that he had been sent to Bebbanburg, young Finan had not learned a great deal. And when she made to discuss his time with his father and his uncle, he just shrugged, and said that he had tried to do what they had told him to do.
So Osthryth went to find the king. The longest day was approaching, and it felt right to return to her lands for the lean month, before harvest.
"Here," Osthryth said to Constantine. She might never have known she still had a hoard of silver, brought back that time from Heavenfield, when Constantine had fought the Norse that she had hidden in the stables had it not been for a coin that fell out of a crack in the hoof of a horse that was being led round to the blacksmith.
It had still been there, the greasy leather bag, and in it, hack silver, from Norse jewellery, arm rings and the like.
"Osthryth!" Constantine exclaimed, for she had come to his chamber, and he was still dressing. "Come in," he added. She waited until his manservant had pulled his cloak around him, standing by the door until it closed behind young Alast, Ealasaid's grandson.
"What is this?" he asked, when she held up the bag.
"I want him to stay here," Osthryth told Constantine.
"Why, what has happened?"
"I don't know," Osthryth told him. "I do know he is behind in his sword skill. I do know he misses his home. For when she had mentioned they could stay a little longer, young Finan's eyes shone. They dimmed when she mentioned Berric.
"Silver," Osthryth told him, but he raised his hand and struck the purse from hand. Anger flashed behind his eyes.
"I do not need silver to care for my own son,' Constantine told her. "
"Your own - ?" Osthryth echoed, shaking her head. She was shocked if Constantine truly thought young Finan was his.
"Tell me it not possible, and I will take your silver," Constantine told her. "Is it possible?
And Osthryth shook her head again, then bent down to pick up the silver. She glanced this face. His features were fixed, just for a moment, and then he smiled.
"By that, I, of course, mean that, like Aedre, I am a father to him. Of course, of course," he told Osthryth in his diplomatic tone. "It is only right that a mother wishes to send her son somewhere in particular. If you wish to leave the coin, leave it, I do not ask for it."
Osthryth put it on the table near the bed. He did not grow angry. He didn't move at all.
Then he asked, "When are you leaving?" And Osthryth wondered whether it was his study of God at the monastery that had evened his temper, made him less prone to anger. For he had attacked her when she had departed with Aedre to see Beocca on his deathbed. Had it only been twenty years before? It felt like much longer ago.
"Your son tells me you have fits, faints," he told her.
"Did he also tell you I stripped naked during one of those fits and murdered two West Saxon warriors?" Constantine's lip curled to one side. It was his favourite story to tell of his mother, particularly if he was cross with her about something.
"He did. And while you have these I would suggest the precaution of leaving for Berric by ship?" He crossed to the window which gave a good view of the Forth river. "Domnall sails down the coast tomorrow, for patrol, could you wait until then? I would have you safely back to your lands."
Her lands, Osthryth noticed. He could have said Ceinid's lands or Finan's lands, but he chose to remind her they were her lands. And she wanted to ask about Brehon law, but Constantine would probably persuade her to seek counsel from Culdees, and the learned monks. It didn't matter. It was foolish thinking if she thought that she could claim the lands formerly known as Rheged.
"Thank you," Osthryth told him, "For being here." Constantine smiled.
"You can come as you wish, you can stay as you wish," he told her. "This is your home, Osthryth, how could it not be?"
Two. That was two people who she loved who had known before she had what she was about to do.
"It is very kind, it is - "
And then Constantine kissed her, pulled her to him, his lips pressing onto hers, holding her close to him. It was firm, and passionate, and it was only because it was Constantine broke away as quickly has he had begun that Osthryth did not have time to object.
Only a kiss, Osthryth thought. The king of Alba stepped from her, no sign of impropriety.
"I will look after your son," Constantine told her. "I swore I would from the day he was born. He does not need to be a warrior if he does not wish to be. And I do not need your silver.
Ragnall's silver, Osthryth thought.
"He needs to be able to defend himself, and others," Osthryth told Constantine. "With the breaking of the union with Strathclyde, and Owain's arrangements with Edward..." she shook her head. "With...possible renewal of arrangements with whoever holds power south, there may be conflict on your eastern border." And then, Osthryth thought, what would she do, if she ruled the ancient Rheged lands?
"Ha," Constantine told her. "There is no eastern border, there never was. Ask one person where Owain's lands end and mine beginand you will get a different answer to another and another."
"You have a different strategy?" Osthryth guessed.
"I send men, diplomats, to remind the Strathclydians that they have more in common with the Gaels and the Picts than the Saxons to their south."
A campaign of hearts, Osthryth thought. And if what Aedre had told her was true, the campaign was into her land. A third thought realised that Constantine's daughter, his adopted daughter, had chosen the same method her father had for dealing with the Strathclydians.
"I wish I would be here to go with whoever you send."
"I will send people like young Finan, Osthryth," he told her. "To remind them of the culture we all share."
"If he wishes to go - "
"I'm not asking."
"I'm saying," Osthryth told him. "As long as he can wield a sword in defence, then I will be happy."
And Osthryth was not surprised when her son was not disappointed not to go back to Berric. A little sad - he was thirteen now, and she had barely spent any time with him. She held the side of her head as one of her headaches flashed across the side of her head.
"Mhathair!" Young Finan cried. He had seen how sometimes she blacked out, fell when a pain in her head occurred. "Aedre!" he cried again, calling to his sister who had been on her way to the boats to take her to Culdees. They happened less often now, but were no less debilitating.
For the sake of her children, who were fussing over her as if she were a girl with a sprained ankle, she conceded to wait another day, not least so that to young Finan could say goodbye to Caltigar and Beann.
"Will you visit soon?" he asked and Osthryth knew the question was for them rather than her. Her warriors looked to Osthryth.
"Yes," she answered, "We can come north again. And you to Berric." It was then she saw his face fall.
"Must I?" he asked.
"Caltigar trains my warriors," Osthryth prompted, her heart sinking. What was so awful for him at Berric that he did not want to come to visit her? Or what was so attractive at Dunnottar? What -
But she saw young Finan look past her, and she turned. To see a face she loved.
"My cousin says you wish to sail when we go out tomorrow?"
"Yes," Osthryth told him.
"I am suprised to see you here, so close to harvest," he told her.
"Not as surprised as I was to be coming here." And Osthryth told him about Buaidh, laid as a challenge from old over her chair.
"The Morrigan does things like that," Domnall told her. Somehow she did not think it was the Morrigan. But then, not Finan, who did not want her ever to set foot on a battlefield again, or anyone on her estate.
"Where do you wish to go to?" Domnall asked. "And I must warn you, there is a lot of hostile craft in the sea...Frisian, West Saxon, Norse, Dane.
"I would be grateful if you would take us to my harbour," she told Domnall, and explained that young Finan was to remain at Dunnottar, but her two men would accompany her. Hostile craft were nothing to things she had faced before - Haesten accosting Ulf anf Gert while they took her to Hamptun had been worse.
"And she has had one of her fits," young Finan told him, before Osthryth could stop him. A look of concern passed over Domnall's face.
"You will take no part in any hostilities either," he told her, looking as if he would othe argument if Osthryth began one.
And that was it. In the morning, with prompt farewells, Osthryth got into the Trinity and was rowed down the Forth.
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A hot day was replaced by a cold night as Domnall led his fleet to the mouth of the estuary. It was sheltered there, and all could rest. Osthryth sat at the stern of the ship and, after a few bites of bread, she pulled the fleece to her body, thinking about the parchment that Aedre had given to her.
"May I join you?" Domnall, uisge-beatha jar in hand, stood before Osthryth. She was too tired to refuse, and besides, he was her friend, and she wanted to talk to him, like they used to, about everything and nothing. But Domnall clearly had a different agenda.
"Tell me what is troubling you," he asked her, offering Osthryth the jar. She normally did not drink, but stuck out a hand this time. Just a couple of sips. And she told her friend about young Finan, and her concerns she had about the time he had been at Bebbanburg.
"You tried, no-one could fault you for that."
"But?"
"What?" Osthryth asked, truly lost.
"It is widely believed young Finan is Constantine's," he confided, "I am sorry to say it, but the rumour has been hard to eradicate." Osthryth sighed, passing him back the jar.
"I wonder if Finan has heard it," she murmured.
"I do not believe Finan Ui Conchobar would be the problem." And she thought, Uhtred? Would he be cruel like that? Of course he would, he had four years of opportunities to treat her son badly.
"You took him home, Osrit," Domnall said. And Osthryth sat closer to her friend, and looked up to the stars, tracing patterns with her finger.
Was that realy true, what Aedre had told her? She pictured her mother, and thought of the rhymes she had taught her. Yan tan tethra methra...pump, sethra hethra hothra nothra dic, yan dic, tan dic, tethra dic methra dic bumfit...yan bumfit, tan bumfit, tethra bumfit, methra bumfit, jigot.
And there was another...aon cant, dau cant, tri...aon cant, dau cant tri, dw i.
She shuffled more upright, the fleece falling from her lap. But she didn't notice...
...counting to twenty in sheep - all they way up to fifty - was that her fifty hides? And "One hundred, two hundred, three, one hundred, two hundred three, for you."
Osthryth sat up. Did her mother know? Had she been trying to tell her in rhyme, as she spoke to ehr daughter softly at bedtime? Aelfric had forbidden Gytha from even acknowledging Osthryth - Aedre, as she had been baptised - was she teaching Osthryth her birthright?
"What?" he asked. And Osthryth asked whether he knew about Brehon law. And when Domnall asked why, giving her back the fleece that had fallen, she told him Aedre's idea.
"My queen," Domnall told her, and Osthryth smiled, allowing him to put his arm around her. "It is more than possible - this is Brehon law, exactly, and Britons as well as Gaels followed it. The druidhe were the class who oversaw the law.
"White robes? Mistletoe leaf tea?"
"You may laugh, but they were the priests of their time. They practised medicine, dispensed justice, were the sceleochts." And Osthryth thought how good she felt, being with her friend. The only person who ever told her the truth, unalloyed, unbiased. Domnall always made her feel better. She glanced to the prow of the ship. Both Caltigar and Beann were dozing now.
Then she thought of something that she wondered whether Domnall had heard. "Did you know that Ealasaid's grandchildren were really Ragnar and Gisela, son and daughter of Sygtryggr and Stiorra?" she asked him. "My niece's children?" It was the very last thing she had found out about, and how Oengus brought them back from Eoferwic.
Domnall nodded, and pushed ibut then said, "No, I did not hear that at all." Nefore then put a finger to her mouth and winked. If she was honest, it was for the best. It also meant Constantine had a claimant for Eoferwic's throne and, by extension, Northumbria.
And two days later, untroubled at sea, they landed at the harbour south of the Tuide, and Domnall walked with Osthryth to her farm hall.
"I hope your watch on the sea is as uneventful as our journey here," Osthryth told him, and allowed Domnall to kiss her on the cheek before the hall's door.
"Will you not come in for refreshment?" Osthryth asked. But her friend shook his head.
"Thank you, no, Osrit," he replied. "I do not want to miss the tide." And she watched him leave, and take the rowing boat back to the Trinity.
Finan was at the hall when Osthryth returned. She bade Caltigar and Beann to come to eat at the table - Rhia was delighted to see her husband, and while she was eating her bread, he say beside her.
"Can you understand how worried I was? Coming back and finding out you had ridden off with young Finan?"
"Caltigar, Beann, please take your food to the armoury," Osthryth told them which, if she had been in a different position, she would have been pleased that they now had. And, when they had gone, told Finan how she had been challenged to leave to war, and reasoned that her war was north.
"Why was he here? The Ui Neill scum?" Finan thrust his arm towards the sea. But Osthryth had quesions of her own. She stood up, and took the boiled water she was drinking and tipped it into the fireplace, making the wood fire sizzle.
"Why did young Finan not learn as he should have, with you and Uhtred?"
"What?" Finan asked, and the stopped, inhaling deeply. "I am pleased to see you," he added. Then crossed the floor and took Osthryth in his arms. And the last few weeks faded to nothing because her husband's lips were on hers and he wrapped his arms tighter around her. Then he broke off and put his mouth to her ear.
"When I saw you gone, when I knew you had gone north, to Alba," Finan told her, "I thought I had lost you."
"Lost me?" Osthryth asked, pulling back and looking at Finan. "You surely do not mean that?"
"But you are here, you are home," Finan went on. "Perhaps I stay away too long, I - "
"Perhaps I cannot sew or cook or embroider or do all of those things a wife should," Osthryth told him, "That you stay away so long?" Finan looked at her, confused.
"What I do is fight, and negotiate with my neighbours," Osthryth told him. "I don't know what happened at Bebbanburg, but I have left our son at Dunnottar to continue his training. And as for Domnall - "
"I never want you to see that shit again, nor the Alba bastard king," Finan told her, forcefully. "I thought he could never control you now. And as for sewing - " Osthryth stepped back, arms folded.
"Yet I tolerate you living under the same roof as Eadith," she interrupted, "One week out of three, to my reckoning.
"Eadith is my friend - and your brother's wife," Finan pointed out.
"And Domnall is mine, and with more reason to be so. Perhaps if you wish to choose my friends Finan of the Ulaid, you should be with me more often?"
"Osthryth!" He exclaimed, then said nothing for a moment. "When I married you do you think for one moment that I did not know I was marrying him, too? And Constantine? You behave as if they were your family."
"They are my family, in so far as they are welcoming and loyal and care for my wellbeing."
"Uhtred is your family," Finan told her. "You put your life on the line to tell him that when you fought for him at Bebbanburg. And when have you even once visited?"
"Visited?" Osthryth repeated, is that what he needed? "Is that what you need? A dutiful wife who visits and can sew and darn and embroider and welcome kin and be hospitable?" She turned away. "Because I cannot be any of those things, but I can fight, I can manage our land." And then turned back, resentful, because she hated it when Finan rodw away. "And maybe after all I could have made a better job of teaching young Finan the sword. Finan, what happened? He is your son, yours! I have done many distateful things to keep him somewhere safe all of his life."
"A clash of personalities," Finan said. "They did not get on, Uhtred, and young Finan."
"And you let him stay all that time?"
"He would not leave," Finan told her. "He said he would be disappointing you. Osthryth," Finan persisted, "He is no warrior, and you want to make him one, and there was a lot of pressure for him to learn. He is a sceleocht." And relief flooded Osthryth, who could accept anything as long as Finan accepted his son.
"And you are not disappointed?"
"No," Finan told her. "It is an honour to be a story teller, it has power. He was blessed coming into this world. I just wish I had been there when he arrived." And he stepped to Osthryth again and took her once more in his arms "Will you come, just once?"
"To Bebbanburg?" Osthryth asked. "If the lord invites me. And I will not see Domnall again if it pleases you."
"You will," Finan told her, "Just remember me, sometimes."
"I remember you always, Finan Mor, I remember lying guarding Edward's door thinking of your face as you charmed the breeches off the Saxon who thought you were going to kill him over faulty clay pots. How could I not have loved you, you who made me laugh when my days were grey?"
And the lord and the lady of Berric kissed one another as if they were the last two humans on earth, the lord bringing the lady into his arms and carrying her up to their room.
After they had reunited in their own bed several times, Finan traced a finger down her body, before kissing her again.
"Come, to Bebbanburg," he told her. "I will tell Uhtred you are waiting on an invitation."
"When are you going?" Osthryth asked. Because Finan always spoke of Bebbanburg before he left for it. And she felt the distant ghost of annoyance because she had finally admitted that she felt resentful that Eadith saw far too much of her husband. No. It was not resentment. Let her admit to herself that it was the distasteful emotion of envy.
"Down the coast," Finan told her. "Aethelhelm's ships are making a play for dominaton of Northumbria. They have Wessex support and if they can get Northumbria it only takes Mercia to yield. He hopes to revive the freed of any order pro-independence in Mercia."
"Are there any?" Osthryth asked. Because they would be fools to support Aethelweard if they truly want independence.
"There is also the queen. She is in danger, as are Edward's two sons. They have fled into hiding." And Osthryth kissed her husband, the deepest and most emotional kiss that she had ever shared with him.
"I do not have to go until tomorrow. Or the next day, even. In the morning."
"I understand," Osthryth told him, answering his unspoken statement that would have involved the words, "You know I swore an oath..."
"I understand too," Finan told her, "That that Ui Neill bastard will always be in your life. And the king of Alba. Just don't tell me that I have to like it." And he stroked her hair, which had lengthened to her shoulder in four years.
So she was content, two days later, when she watched her husband ride out beyond their borders, following the coast round past Lindisfarne and beyond, to the imposing fortress of Bebbanburg.
And when she was sure Uhtred and his men would have left, and gone wherever it was that he had taken them, that was when she headed south.
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"Osthryth!" The surprise in the voice of the lady of Bebbanburg was genuine as Osthryth walked in through the western land gate.
It was a mistake, Osthryth knew. But, she was the lady of Berric, and neighbours had to be neighbours.
"Please, come with me, to the hall," she told Osthryth, and blinked a few times when Osthryth followed with learned familiarity, not as a guest, but as returning kin.
She asked for ale and for bread, and Eadith sat with Osthryth at the table over which Osthryth had threatened Wihtgar when the West Saxons and Mercians had been besieging it, where she and Wihtgar had say years before that, when she had been reconciled with him. Where she had once sat, in a corner, watching her uncle Aelfric host one lord or another.
Where she had looked out to sea. Osthryth glanced there now. Had the vista been north, she might have seen something unfolding that would have made her flee Bebbanburg, flee to help the stricken.
"I remember you at Aylesbury," she told Osthryth, brightly. "Eardwulf," she faltered, "Eardwulf had let me collect flowers in the garden. And I saw you."
"I am sorry I killed him," Osthryth told her politely.
"I am sorry to say I am not sorry," Eadith told her. "He murdered Aethelred; under it all, I liked the lord of Mercia, sometimes."
"And how is everything?" Osthryth asked, noticing the sun had inched diagonally up the sky. Not far enough yet to excuse herself, else be seen as rude.
"I get on with my work; people from the villages come and I help them where I can." And she told Osthryth of her sorrow that they had not been blessed with a child.
"He is angry with me now. There is a lot of unrest, the death of the king of Wessex. And I told him I wanted him to be safe." Osthryth smiled, then saw that Eadith was giving her a strange look. She thought Osthryth was mocking her.
"It is funny Finan said the same to me," she explained.
"Do you think we are safe here?" Eadith asked, suddenly. "There have been a lot of raids along the coast - " she saw Osthryth's face - "As you know."
"Aethelhelm's ships," Osthryth told her. They had seen half a dozen waving his banner just on the journey from the Forth to Berric.
"Uhtred spent all his life trying to get this fortress back, and it took Mercians and West Saxons and Scots and me all helping him," Osthryth told Eadith. "I think these walls will be safe for you and Uhtred. And his men.
And Eadith got her tone, and leaned towards Osthryth, eyes widened. "FInan was very kind to me once," she told Osthryth. "We travelled to Cymru, and I was treating Uhtred - the blade ice spite had pierced him, from Teotenhalgh. I wanted to cure him, I needed to, with all my skill. Finan took me to one side - "
- I remember, Osthryth thought.
"And told me I could do it, I had the skill. It made all the difference to know he believed in me when I did not believe in myself." Eadith inhaled, as did Osthryth. It made it no better, though he came home to Osthryth regularly enough, to her bed. But she was also realistic - Finan was a man, and men had their desires. She would accept Eadith's word, of course. But she did not trust the woman. And she would not now ask what had happened with young Finan - it was irrelevant now; she and Finan were united in their acceptance of his training in Alba. Osthryth withdrew her chair suddenly, and got to her feet.
"I am sorry, with whatever has made you stay away from here all this time," Eadith told Osthryth. "I only hope we can resolve to be better neighbours?"
Better neighbours, Osthryth thought, bitterly. And I bet she sewed her own embroidery, and could knit and cook, and do all those things that a wife should do.
"He is angry with me," Eadith told Osthryth. "So very angry when I asked him to be at home. I help the poor, but I can still feel his anger." And Osthryth felt suddenly very sorry for this woman, who her brother had seduced, seduced away from her land and the people she knew, to a rocky, isolated fortress.
"Mecaud," Osthryth told her. "That's what the Britons called Lindisfarne. It was a great island renowned for its healing. Perhaps it is somewhere you should visit, with your skill as a healer?"
And Eadith gave her a warm smile, like the ones she used to give Osthryth when she was a child, and Osthryth gave her a touch to her arm, which made the woman smile more. But she still didn't like Finan being in her company even a little bit.
"Please," Osthryth told her. "You are welcome to come to Berric, please visit, and your lord."
"You are very kind," Eadith was in the process of saying, when a servant tore into Bebbanburg's hall with an urgent message: a ship had been broken up and survivors were on the way.
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"Are you sure? Finan, I know your eyesight is impeccable, but are you sure?"
"They are going south, lord Uhtred, and they don't seem to be returning."
Uhtred inhaled. What was the king of Alba doing now, he wondered. Those who were returning were battered and crushed, having engaged some or other of their enemy.
They had not ridden far to keep watch on the coast. Back up north with the Farne Islands in sight, Uhtred had taken Hereward with them. The man had proved to be surprisingly durable, having served Aelfric and then Wihtgar.
"When they come back, they are always ravaged. Some have been wrecked, off Lindisfarne."
"Yes?" Finan asked.
"Then they walk back to Alba." Finan laughed. He liked the idea of Domnall Ui Neill having to walk back to his cousin in ignominy.
"And if they pitch up at Berric, what will my sister do?" he asked Finan, his eyes gleaming at his own mischief.
"See it as her Christian duty to care for the shipwrecked. Send word to you in case you wanted to share the duty to your fellow man."
They watched the sea again, watched the sea birds following a shoal of herring off the coast, cackling loudly.
"What if Constantine invades?" Uhtred asked Finan. "Or, when, do you think?"
"Not yet. He's fighting Owain of Strathclyde over a broken oath." Uhtred grinned.
"Marrying my sister has its uses then," he told his friend. "You are ideally placed for news."
But then there was no more talking. For, on the horizon, a ship was in trouble. Two Norse ships had surrounded it, their striped sails clearly contrasting on this summer's day.
"They are failing, lord!" Finan called urgently to Uhtred. "The boats!" But Uhtred put a staying hand on his friend's arm.
"Not yet." Finan looked out to sea again. They would be terrified, the crew, fighting, knowing that one slip and they would be in and drowned.
"Uhtred!" Finan called again. But his friend pointed out to sea. "What do we do?"
"Watch, and wait."
"You can't mean - "
"You should be able to see that, if I can," Uhtred interrupted. And when Finan looked, he could just about make out a white banner. With a red hand upon it. The ship was the Trinity. "You hate that man who is sailing that ship."
And it could be like this, Finan thought. They could say they could not launch quickly enough, the currents too strong to reach them. Oh, they got in as many from the sea as they could, but the tide was going out, and the Norse were turning on them...
...Domnall? He hadn't seen Domnall. And he was sorry that he was gone, and pleased, so pleased that he had been Osthryth's friend...
"It will crush my wife if she found out we let it founder," Finan managed. Uhtred gave his friend a look, knowing that he was right.
"Hereward, get to the rowing boats!" he called. "Sihtric, get the first one out, Osferth the other.
One thing that was true that the sea was indeed rough. As they pulled the oars the waves drenched them.
"In yer get," Finan said, as he pulled a sailor into the boat. "And you," he said to another. In all, they rescued thirteen. He hoped he might not see Domnall, but as they retreated, he saw that, with his standard in hand, Domnall Ui Neill looked back to his ship, being broken to pieces by the Norse.
It was only when they got to the beach that he looked up to their saviours. All of his men had been saved, he realised, when he saw two pulling themselves up onto the beach.
"Lord Uhtred," Domnall said. "I am grateful that you saved the lives of my men, and my own."
"Lord Domnall," Uhtred told him. "You are a long way from your own coast." And he gestured towards the horses on the higher ground, which Berg was guarding. "Can you ride?"
"I am sure we can," Domnall told Uhtred, his long wet hair whipping his face, and making eye contact with Finan. "King Constantine will - "
"King Constantine?" Uhtred interrupted. "I, I am sorry, I think you misunderstand. You are not going back to Alba." He looked south, to his fortress. "You're coming with us, as guests. To Bebbanburg."