30th June 927, Berric
Looking out over the flat lands of the once Kingdom of Goddydyn Osthryth surprised to see an army crossing the flat lands south of the Tuide, a small army, coming from the north. Osthryth turned to Beann from the hillock beside the hall's farm and asked the boy to tell Caltigar that the next change of warriors was about to arrive, although, she thought, it seemed a little early in the month, and more warriors than usual.
She had been back from Mon a week before Finan had come to her, and had organised the Midsummer feasting and celebrations, which went on until the morning. It had been then when she had seen a rider, white-horsed, coming towards Berric's hall farm, slowly, and steadily, pausing at the bonfire and exchanging a few words with Munadd.
"With how much pleasure did Uhtred tell you about Queen Gwythelth?" Osthryth has asked, when she waited outside her farm hall as the rider that eventually drew nearer. Finan got off his horse and walked the last few steps to her, leading the bridle. And all the words Osthryth had had in her head for when he eventually did return evaporated like the dew of a morning and she ran to him, Finan drawing her to him, and kissing her.
"He told me," Finan had replied, but then he changed the subject and said, "I thought young Finan would come this way," he told her, as they sat at the kitchen table in the manor hall.
"He could have come by boat - you could have missed him," Osthryth told her husband. Or, perhaps, he had decided to choose to stay at Dunnottar: she had asked their son how his sword-work was progressing at Bebbanburg. That he had been reluctant to say had suggested to Osthryth that young Finan may have been having a hard time with his uncle.
"This is true," Finan replied, and reached up to her hair. It had grown longer still, and he smiled as he stroked his hand through it. Osthryth was glad he had chosen that moment to do that, for she had been about to nurse it herself with her fingers, her headaches had been coming back intermittently since her injury at Tamworth, and she had been experiencing dull aches for the last few days, and did not want Finan to find out.
So her husband returned to the farm and involved himself in its upkeep - it was nearly time for harvest so he had been doing the rounds with Munadd to the different farms to check on their preparations.
And so Finan was still asleep when Osthryth got up at dawn and looked over her lands with Beann, and sent him back to Caltigar, and she stayed to watch the host come nearer, her heart hammering in her chest when she saw who it was.
Blue clad, with his horse banner high, it was Constantine himself coming to pay her a visit, and she beat back the words in her head of what Domnall had told her: it could not possibly true, anyway. In no way had Constantine shown he had ever loved her - Osthryth would never have known it from how he had always treated her. Yet, they were bonded, in a way. Osthryth would not be alive now without him.
At least Finan was at the farm when Constantine would arrive, and she got on her horse and rode home, calling frantically to Rhia and Caltigar to make ready for the arrival of the king of Alba, and she raced upstairs, wondering what to do now, when Finan saw her. He got up, naked, and crossed to her, kissing her neck, before stopping and stepping back.
Ordinarily, Osthryth would have taken the opportunity with his cock and wanked him, or sucked him off, but her agitation had caught his eye and Finan asked her what was wrong.
"Constantine," she told him, and gestured towards the window. The lord of Berric stepped towards it, to see that it was indeed the king of Alba, and he treated the incoming warriors to a full frontal, leaning nonchalantly out of their upstairs window and casually looking down.
"Finan!" Osthryth hissed, but he had pulled her to him, and again, the warriors from Alba could not help but see their lady beign embraced by her husband.
"King Constantine!" Finan called out to him, bollock-naked. "It is good that you call at our estate. Is my son with you?"
He had been taking lessons at winding up people from Uhtred then, Osthryth thought, her heart sinking, and she looked out, seeing men she knew, Oengus was there, as was Tamas and Ceansie, guards she had trained with, fought with. It was a small royal guard and Osthryth was half expected to see young Finan.
Cellach was there, too, his only son since Ildubh, his first son by Maíri, had died. Half expected to see to the wild flame red hair of Aedre, but her adopted daughter was not Osthryth, she reminded herself, and as per her marriage agreement settled between Constantine and Finan when he and Osthryth had wed, she no longer supported the girl financially.
Though hardly a girl, she had the life her mother, Thyra could have only dreamed about - did dream about, and had nearly had - before she had been taken after the arson attack on her father's hall, and was now married, though living back at Dunnottar.
Osthryth sensed Constantine noticing her analysing his company, which she was. Too small a war band to fight south; too large for a hunt. Besides, Berric was a hundred miles from Dunnottar: the king had gone badly wrong if he had ended up at her door by accident.
And yet, something in his face told her he was planning something, for his eyes were bright with an excitement Osthryth long knew. Considering Aethelstan's pernicious acquisition of land and fealty-collecting as he headed north, she guessed it was this which had prompted the king of Alba to ride south. He sought assurances, and wanted one, most of all.
"You are most welcome, to our land," Finan called, "And the Lady of Berric will be with you shortly." He stepped from the window and gave Osthryth a wide grin. In her turn, Osthryth perused Finan's naked body did not know whether to laugh or to scold him. In the end, she grinned too, at the ludicrosity of the man who was her husband, who refused to claim Berric's title greeting the king of Alba in the nude, and kissed him, which caused a stirring.
"I will join you when I am dressed," Finan told her, though she would be with him right then, her skin on his and it was making her wet. Osthryth wanted so much to hold his cock, broad and long, as all of the Gaels she had known had been. Finan would gasp, then, and tell her not to stop, and he would be in her hands - literally, as he gave in to his coming orgasm. Sometimes Osthryth liked to masturbate him, and nothing else, just to give her husband pleasure.
Finan seemed to know her desires and took a step away from her, though the end of his cock was indeed glimmering with pre-cum that made Osthryth know he too desired what she had in mind.
"Make a start with the conversation," he told her, "Find out what he wants without me being there, he will be more honest, then."
Osthryth nodded, for she had thought the same thing too, and she hurried out of their bedchamber and down the stairs, pausing half way down with her hand to her temples, the headache that had been threatening to give her pain hammering hard in her head, and she made herself walk sedately down the last few steps and out to the front of the hall, where Alba's finest were waiting for her.
"Osthryth!" exclaimed a voice, and Osthryth turned to see that Aeswi was with them. He got down from his horse and crossed to her, taking her hand and shaking it. "We are here to see how your harvest preparations are doing," he added.
Later, much later, when Alba's king and the warriors - exchanged - had left Berric, Osthryth knew exactly what they had come for, and that a plan had been consolidated after she had left Mon and come back home: Cadwallon, the ancient warlord from Saint Oswald's time had wanted to reclain Lloegr, and sided with Eanfrith, Oswald's older brother and Aethelfrith's first son, whose mother had been a Pict, an ancestor of Constantine too.
He had a plan, Osthryth mused, later, devised with the leaders of the Cymric nations and with the Norse, on Mon, a plan to reclaim Britain, as a Briton might know it. And Berric would be at the centre of the plan, giving access south, to the wall, and safe harbours to those vessels heading down the coast.
But Osthryth did not know it yet, nor did suspect. As she welcomed the warriors, many of whom had lodged at the farm before and knew the drill, and were waiting patiently for what came first, which was when Osthryth bade Rhia to cook a meal for the all.
"You are well, madam?" Constantine looked at her face as she invited him indoors to eat food at her table. His expression was stiff, fixed. So many years ago he would have taken in the whole of her body, but his gaze shifted no lower than neck-height. He was at least as pious as Aethelstan, now, and was taking regular instruction at Culdees.
"I am indeed, your grace. " She stood aside and opened wide her arm, directing him into the cool of the hall, against the growing heat of another hot summer's day.
The summer had indeed been hot but tiles reclaimed from a Roman villa, plain, red-brown, covered the floor. It meant the harvest stored above kept drier in the winter. Now, a large table sat at the centre, the tithe-sticks from the spring rents in bundles. It had been a good year and Osthryth's farmers had been able to keep an abundance of crop, and had not been ravaged for many years.
Aethelstan again, Osthryth thought. As with her ancestor, king Edwin of Deria, Northumbria was enjoying peace. And, while she had not set up drinking cups by every river, Berricscir's women with newborns could cross the country unharassed. A difficult truth to bear, considering where her own loyalty lay.
"Aedre is well, and is enjoying being a married woman," Constantine told her. "She is making her plans to live on Mon permanently, when Anlaf has reinstated Guthfrith as king in Eoforwic."
"I am glad she is happy," Osthryth told him. For Constantine always had indulged his adopted daughter, and she reckoned it had been his suggestion that had helped Aedre see she would be better off in her old home while her husband was out raiding and reiving, even if most of the land that the Norse were doing that in were, technically, according to the documents Aedre had herself located in Culdees monastery and shown to Osthryth, his own lands. She wondered whether, at the meeting at the Tynwald, on Mon, that this detail had been kept from King Owain and Prince Cynddylan, who would, of course, claim them to be Hen Ogledd or Strathclyde land.
"Come," she called to the men, as they made their way into the farm's larger hall, and in trooped the warriors, a couple of dozen. Osthryth's heart leapt in her chest, as one, glancing at her hip, met her face with a grin.
Yes, she still had Buaidh, hard won so many years ago at Teamreach - Tara - and Domnall mac Aed Uí Néill, still had need to serve the king of Alba. It was all Osthryth could do to stop herself from leaping on her old friend and pulling him close to her. But, she was the lady of this land, and he was, clearly, still in exile in Constantine's service.
Osthryth did, however, unsuccessfully stifle a giggle at Domnall's appearance:old that he was indeed, with silver strands in his long, black hair and moustache - it had been dark on Mon when they had last talked, and she was surprised at his age. Osthryth supposed she was old, too, and laughed aloud when she thought if two old warriors standing beside one another, who had once been so close.
Beside him, a young man now, looked quizzically at her. Cellach was Aedre's oldest friend - eight years her junior, he would trail after her, when he was old enough to, and she would indulge him with games and consolations, with praise and attention and the boy had thrived on her affection, and Osthryth had wondered that Constantine had not married him off to Aedre.
Except, he knew he had a plan, and that plan had involved an invitation to Anlaf and his men to spend time at Dunnottar. An army was being built, almost exactly like the army Osthryth imagined would be needed in an Alba - Strathclyde - Cymric alliance. She smiled back at the young man, and he nodded his head to her.
Constantine chose to eat with the men, so Osthryth led him to the large hall where Caltigar was already moving around furniture enough for the men to sit around. Usually, tithes were counted there, and Caltigar and Beann had moved several planks of wood around for them to sit in.
"Don't you feel upset?" she said to Domnall, as the king went to sit beside his son, "That Constantine has taken on an ally such as Anlaf?" Domnall grinned at her and clapped her on the shoulder, which led to him bringing her closer to him.
"This is the first time I think I have ever heard you not defend my cousin," he told her, and he put his head against hers for a moment, as he used to do when they were younger, and he spoke close to her ear. "And no. Not allying with Anlaf would not bring back my kin. It shows how he needs allies for the defense of the northern realms. Your idea," he added.
"Mine?" Osthryth exclaimed, stepping back from her friend and staring at him.
"You told him, in Mon. The idea was universally ratified," Domnall told her, as Osthryth's heart sank. "Make show of deference while using the time to mobilise - " he broke off and looked to the doorway. Osthryth turned too, and saw it was Finan, who was striding over to Osthryth.
"Good to see you found your clothes, Lord," Domnall said to Finan, with effected deference.
"The Lady will wish to speak to the king," Finan replied coolly, giving Domnall his customary glower of hatred. "The parlour is suitable," he added, glancing to Osthryth. "If you need me, I will continue with Munadd, overseeing the farms."
And with that, the Lord of Berric left Osthryth with the commander of Constantine's fleet, not pausing at all until he had got to his horse, waiting for the caretaker of Berric's land and Osthryth told herself again that she was so very glad she had paased onthe land to Aedre, as was the Brehon law custom where property passed from mother to daughter, things were bad enough between Alba and Berric and Bebbanburg and Englaland already.
And through the shared culture of Anlaf and Aedre's marriage union, the undisputed Norse leader of the Irish and king of Mon would not come cheap: Constantine wanted no less than the invasion of the lands to the wall, which was precisely where Aethelstan's armies now were, though Osthryth suspected that, come autumn, Edward's son would be marching his way north soon, and there would be only one place he would be going.
For her brother would not give away his land, nor his service cheaply. Constantine had come to solidify his claim, and had come to Osthryth for intelligence and for allegiance. His allegiance to God did not, as it did not for Aethelstan, finish at war, rather, it began with war, to acquire land, and the hand of the saints would be on his shoulder as Saint ColmCille, Oswald and Cuthbert would be on Constantine's.
God was on his side. And yet God was on Aethelstan's side too.
"You have had a long journey, please sit," Osthryth said to the king, as Domnall watched her play hostess. And they ate the mean food that was all anyone had to spare at this time of the year, before the harvest, of bread and smoked fish. As Rhia and Beann brought the food, Constantine urged her to sit by him.
"I wish to talk of your allegiance," Constantine told her plainly, after they had eaten. "To Cellach. But, put your claim to me first, Osthryth."
"Claim?" Osthryth asked as they walked outside in the strengthening sunlight. For if Constantine pulled it off it meant most of Northumbria gone to Alba. If he didn't, it went to Aethelstan. There was a third way, Osthryth knew, but it was insignificant to the hardening of borders, and the third plan would be inconsequential.
"Tell me, before I answer," Osthryth said to him, hoping not to come back to the subject of land claims and allegiances, "What of Eoforwic? Eanfrith governs there, does he not?" Constantine nodded, and turned his head, spitting at the name.
"Aethelstan's puppet," Constantine scorned. "The bishop is against him, of course."
Of course, Osthryth agreed, silently. Bishop Wulfstan unfailingly supported the Norse for he unfailingly believed in Northumbrian autonomy.
"There's Bebbanburg, of course," Osthryth suggested, "But I do not suggest you go there yourself, your grace, for my brother is likely to kill you. That would indeed suit Aethelstan's cause."
"You think he has pledged to Aethelstan?" Constantine asked her. Osthryth held his gaze.
"I could not say for sure, but I can say that Uhtred desires an independent Northumbria, and he could put his own claim in with Danish help. He could very well go to Eoforwic and support Guthfrith himself, but he is Sygtryggr's brother, and my brother believes he governed the land poorly when he was king." She smiled at Constantine. "He wishes to stay in Bebbanburg and tend his lands, he is old."
"We are all old," Constantine replied. "And I can see that you wish to tend Berric." He stepped to her, and Osthryth thought for a moment that he was about to embrace her, but instead, the King of Alba spoke near her ear. "I cannot ignore Aethelstan; my men must raid south. And it was a very shrewd thing you did giving Aedre your mother's land."
Osthryth could only smile. She had never planned to, but the plan seemed to lie open before her, under the circumstances of her adopted daughter about to get wed to the king of the island the Cymric called Ellan Vannin. It made sense, and had meant, too, that she was not compromised. She had neither favoured the Northern Cymric, nor Owain, nor Constantine, nor the Norse. Nor had she denied them and allied with Aethelstan.
"If I were you, I would send a send a ship, send Domnall to see him, now he has seen Guthfrith." He put his hand across the table. Osthryth moved hers, and their fingers touched, lightly. How different might it have been if she had remained in Alba, then? If she had been the Gael he had wanted?
"It was a shrewd move bringing Aedre to Mon," she said to Constantine, moving her hands away as Caltigar brought boiled water for Osthryth.
"Indeed," he told her. "Yes, whatever makes her happy."
"She is no longer a child, Constantine. You have been more of a parent than I have."
"You are her mother, and you always have been," he told her. "You fed that child from your own breast to keep her alive - you brought her to Domhnall, with the only wish that she was to be safe."
"I am not her mother and do not pay for her upkeep. And I was never there when she needed me." Osthryth's voice sounded stiff, and she knew it. She looked up to Constantine, the regret of all the years around her. "Is she happy, Constantine? Does Anlaf make her happy."
"So very happy," he replied, smiling. He was always a keener father with Aedre than his own daughters, who had been married off to mormaers so perfunctorially that Constantine sometimes mistook which of the two girls was married to whom. And Constantine was Aedre's only parent for such a long time, so much so that even when Osthryth had been in Dunnottar Aedre looked to Constantine, not Osthryth, for guidance.
"And Aethelstan? How was he when you saw him in Gloucester?"
"Busy ruling his new kingdom of Englaland," she told him. "Hearing disputed, giving decrees." Osthryth's eyes searched Constantine's face. "Calling himself Rex Totalus Britanniae."
"King over the whole of Britain," Constantine mused. "And you would still have me unite the north?" Osthryth nodded her head.
"Then I will do it," he told her. "My thoughts have long rested in this direction."
"Berric, will be behind you," Osthryth told him
"I cannot ask you to do this," his words told Osthryth's ears, but he could not disguise a smile.
"But I can choose - " she inhaled deeply, "I do choose, Constantine." And he took her hands again, hers between his, as if in prayer.
"And once you have chosen, it will come - war, between the peoples of this land before the Saxons and Angles and Jutes, when there were just Britons."
"Lamnguin," Osthryth said softly. Constantine looked up. "The poet Nennius said it meant whiteblade, but I think it was white hand - sainted hand."
"You do know your family history," Constantine told her. "Sainted hand," he repeated. "One which is currently buried in Gloucester, with Aethelstan." He was right. Oswald's hand, along with what was reputed to be the rest of his incorrupt body, was buried there. Osthryth had prayed over it, and then the North Cymric, with Prince Cynddylan, came to declare her to be their queen.
"You know he chose ColmCille's church," Osthryth said, softly. And knew she had chosen her side. And she wrestled with the idea in her mind as Constantine told her that his men were going south, to a siege on Eoforwic with the Norse, to try to win it back, seeking rebels to Aethelstan's cause and generally causing as much trouble as they could.
"But I like your idea about Domnall," Constantine told her. "If your brother is, as you say, determined to keep in Northumbria independent, he might like to hear what I have to say."
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It had taken a lot of willpower to let them leave. She would have them longer, except that Constantine was to follow the wall to Cumhraland. Guthred was long dead, and the kingdom was being held by local, petty lords and Norse settlers from Eireann. She was do close to saddling her horse to ride after them, to beg Domnall to join his banner, the ancient red right hand symbol now closed around a cross, even though Finan was on their estate, even though her land was at peace.
Whatever happened, she just did not want change - all of her life to this point, and now the battle was to be polarised: the Sais or the non-Sais, for that was what if came to. Was she Sais, as Oswald had been, Aethelfrith, his father - the Twister, they had called him, right back to Ida? Or was she of the Hen Ogledd through Urien of Rheged, of the ancient Britons, as her mother had been?
When they had departed, Osthryth sat at the farm's table, head in her hands. She did not want war; she did not want the Mercians and West Saxons she knew to be standing opposite the Alba warriors and Cymric and Strathclydians she knew. When she heard to door at the back of the hall click open and heard Caltigar speak to Finan, it was all Osthryth could do to stop herself running to her arms.
So she had let him come in, and eat foot, and wait until he asked her how she was until Osthryth confessed that she felt terrible.
Now it was afterwards, and they were lying in bed, his arms around her, and tonight Osthryth did not want him to ever let her go.
"Did he come here to speak to you, Osthryth?" Finan asked her, and moved away from her a little, to look at her face.
"I asked him to," Osthryth replied.
"You asked Constantine to come here?" Finan clarified, and there was a coolness between them. "You know he is on the way south, to Eoforwic, for a battle?" he asked her. "Whatever would happen if Aethelstan heard you had harboured him?"
"What has Aethelstan got to do with this? These are Alba lands. They have been held by Constantine's mother's family since anyone has ever known." But Finan was getting out of bed, his body rigid as stalked over their bedroom floor. Then, he turned sharply and rounded on her.
"I want you away from here," Finan told Osthryth, severely. She sat up, and looked at him, aghast.
"Why? Because I am not a farmer? I do not deerve land?" Osthryth he exclaimed. "Because I need to be locked away at Bebbanburg whileyou and Uhtred have all the glory on the battlefield?"
"I saw the way you were with the arse-shit King of Alba, and the Ui Neill bastard!" Finan shouted. "What have you agreed?"
"They are my family!" she told him, "They are all I had for the longest time." Osthryth looked at Finan and got out of bed, standing naked before his own nakedness, and she yelped with shock as he grabbed her shoulders.
"I am your family!" he told her, shaking her. "I came for you, and we wed!" Osthryth shrugged from his grasp.
"You came to Alba and accepted this land when you married me but now - "
"Now, you are between one king and another!" Finan declared, shaking his outstretched hand to her, "Aand I want you safe, Osthryth, I want you alive, and God knows, I want you with me!" Osthryth turned, her anger thoughtless.
"Then, next time Uhtred rides out, take me with you!" she demanded. It was a ridiculous thing, and Finan hesitated, as the rational part of her brain knew he would.
"I cannot promis that," he told her. But Osthryth hadn't finished.
"Can you promise that our son can? He tells me he has been denied even this." It wasn't quite true. Young FInan had told her nothing. But the guess was a good one and FInan looked away.
"I asked young Finan - I want him to - "
"I know what you want - he has to come to me of his own accord. But he did not, Osthryth. Perhaps he is too comfortable up in Alba. Yet, Constantine did come here, and Domnall, and people who you knew. What did you agree?"
Osthryth held her temper. She did not shout back, "Because Uhtred wants to know?" She strode over to him, and told him the truth.
"Nothing, I have agreed nothing. He already has enough allies on his side. If anything his too many, alliances which could splinter easily. Guthfrith, for example." Finan stared at her for a moment, and then sat down on their bed, taking her hand and pulling her down next to him. He turned her dipped head, so Osthryth looked at him.
"Do not go to Guthfrith," he said, his tone severe, "Please, Osthryth, I'm begging yer. If yer do, Aethelstan will surely attack."
He did not before, Osthryth thought, for he would surely have heard of Osthryth's promotion to Queen Gwythelth of the North Cymric, and unlikely to have heard that she had given the land and title to Aedre.
"I promise," Osthryth told him, "That I will not go south with Constantine to support Guthfrith." She felt Finan exhale a sigh of relief. Because it told her something else: Aethelstan had Uhtred to his side, and Osthryth said so..
"Aethelstan offered him Wiltunscir in exchange for Bebbanburg," Finan told her.
"Aethelhelm's lands?" Finan nodded. Osthryth nodded, grimly. "As I expected he would, as Uhtred thought he would."
"What would you have?" he asked her suddenly.
"This," she answered. "Uhtred at Bebbanburg, us, here. The world not making us make impossible choices." Because choices might cause her to be standing opposite Finan Mòr, her husband, who had a prior commitmenr by oath to her brother, as she had a prior commitment by oath to Constantine.
"It probably won't happen, not war," Finan said, "Burgham is where the kings are summoned to make their oaths to Aethelstan."
"Burgham?" Osthryth asked, recalling the name.
"Eamont Bridge," Finan told her.
Her land. Or, rather, Aedre's. And Finan told her that Aethelstan had called the Cymric kings, and Owain and Constantine there in order for them to kneel and show deference to him, and that that was where he would be going with Uhtred.
"When Sihtric has the balls to tell Uhtred about it," Finan laughed.
Balls, Osthryth thought, and she moved her hand to his cock. And afterwards, after the three times he had humped her, to both their satisfaction, Osthryth lay in her husband's arms and stroked his chest.
He may kneel to Aethelstan, Osthryth thought, at the place of the rivers, where Rheged stopped, but never in his heart would Constantine accept his overlordship.
Finan said nothing more: he did not command, or argue, or say that she must stay safe, and neither did Osthryth declare her intentions. But they both knew she would be going to Burgham.
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Dawn brought soldiers which woke them up. Osthryth was the first on her feet, and in her shirt and breeches looked out of the same window Finan had leaned to address Constantine in the altogether. She looked at the men, many of whom she knew, looked at their stillness while, in their hands a wolf banner fluttered. Bebbanburg had come to Berric, and with it, the young, Norse commander, Berg.
"The Lord of Bebbanburg sends you greetings," Berg called up to her. "Yield to his protection and he will defend Berric from any ravages that will come your way."
"My brother said that?" Osthryth asked, calling out of the window. Behind her, Finan moved in bed. Below, on the parched grass between her front door and the stables, Berg nodded.
"All those long words?" Osthryth pressed. "That's not like him." There was a ripple of words amongst Uhtred's men, and not just one quickly curtailed laugh."
"He said you are to be contained to your lands, you are not to leave. That there was a was a line of men on the border, and in the sea, ships with the wolf's head banner." But Osthryth's mind was already running, and she had computed that there were two ways she could go, west, across the dense forests and wilderness of the moorlands that separated Berric from the southern lands of Strathclyde, or north, into Alba.
"Will we be giving refreshment to the men of Bebbanburg?" called up Caltigar from the bottom step. Osthryth knew her man knew what her answer would be, which was why he was calling up from the outside of her hall in front of her brother's warriors.
"These men are not stopping," Osthryth told Berg. "In fact, they are not welcome in our land. Please see the word gets to our farms that no food or water or rest will be afforded to them, for they have come to us to threaten us and imprison us, which - is - not - neighbourly." She looked back to Caltigar. "So we will need all the provision for ourselves."
Finan was standing next to her as Berg led Uhtred's men away, slowly, and with effect. For she knew what the young Norseman had wanted - her brother had sent him to bring Finan back to Bebbanburg, but hadn't the courage to come himself.
"You are needed," Osthryth told him, when Finan asked what had happened. She was angry now, angry with her brother, and with Berg and, yes, Finan, too, for having his oath that meant he would leave her when Uhtred caled.
"What's her name?" Osthryth asked, as Finan made to soothe her. She instantly saw the pain in his eyes, and hated herself for not caring.
"Osthryth, ah, ye know," he shook his head. "There is no name of anyone you are imagining."
"I know a name. Her name was Eadith," she told Finan. "Although, she is dead. What is the name of the other?" Finan just stared at her.
"All I want is for you to be with me, for longer, like it used to be!" Osthryth declared.
"It never used to be anything," Finan told her, severely, "It was you making bad decision after bad devision when you were in Mercia and Wessex and Alba." North, Osthryth thought, or west, and she turned to dress in her boots and jerkin, finding her sword belt and beginning to fasten it up. Finan stepped to her and threw it with force onto the floor.
"And you who will never leave Uhtred's side, not for a minute!" Osthryth shot back. "Do believe you are more married to him than you are to me!" Finan laughed, and Osthryth did not. Instead, she scooped up her sword belt and Buaidh, making to walk to the door.
"Where are you going?" Finan asked, standing in her way.
"To where I am welcome, where someone wants me.
"Tell me, did you become the queen of the Hen Ogledd?" Finan asked. And the truth of his return settled on Osthryth like new-fallen snow.
"They believe me queen; but I am not queen."
"Osthryth!" Finan exclaimed, exasperatedly, as she fixed Buaidh into her scabbard.
"My greetings in Bebbanburg," Osthryth told him. "I believe there is a new lady there now."
"Osthryth!" he shouted, sharply. And she turned from where she was heading, which was the window. Two pushes with feet onto the timber and she would be on the roof; three on the other side and she would be in front of the stable.
"Was she beautiful? To you, I mean?" Osthryth asked, her face full of indignant anger.
"Wh- what?" Finan asked. "Who?"
"Eadith," Osthryth accused. "I want to know, before we part."
"What? Part?" Finan asked. "Osthryth, I don't know what you are saying - "
"Eadith?" she pushed.
He said nothing, did nothing. And Osthryth weakened. He was the man she loved above all other.
"You are deeply honoured - this is beyond honour," Finan told her. "To be queen of the oldest peoples in the island of Britain. "
"You were not here to see it - you are never here to see anything. I wish - " And she could not say it, could not say that she wished him by her side more than he was. And she was gone, and out over the roof, and down before the stable within minutes.
"Give," Osthryth demanded of Beann, who handed his mistress the cloth he was cleaning the bridles with. "No," she told him, with more patience than she had had with Finan, and he handed her the bridle. The brown horse was the one she trusted most. The mare was reliable and did not do naughty things, like run her leg into walls and hedges like the bigger colts did.
But before she could mount, Finan had reached her, stepping past Beann, who then chose to leave and tell Caltigar what was happening. But he was too slow. Osthryth was on her horse with a speed that would have impressed Finnolai, Taghd and Feargus, Constantine's young warriors who had tried to teach her to ride.
"My lady!" Caltigar called, as she rode at speed out of the stable. North was easier, for she could follow the coast road; any rievers in the mountains to the west would simply slow her.
But Finan had caught her up before the Tuide and put his white horse in front of her path. Osthryth felt the anger surge in her. How dare he prevent her from leaving? She put her hand to Buaidh. But Finan crossed to her and gripped her tightly by the wrists, his manner urgent, his voice desperate.
"If you do not go north, I am will not go south," Finan told her, and he lifted her up onto his horse own white horse, tethering her mare to his own, and whispered in her ear, "My queen."
"I did not accept," she told Finan, staying his hand on the rein.
"Someone accepted. A queen named Gwythelth, I believe, to lead the northern Cymru. Something about an alliance between the Cymric and the Gaels and the Norse." Osthryth looked at him in shock.
"Did young Finan tell you?"
"Our son?" Finan asked. "Why would -
"He was there, when Aedre married Anlaf."
"Was he now? Uhtred told me he was on a mission, with his - " he broke off. "With Uhtred's elder son."
"To Mon, Osthryth told him. "Ellan Vannin. But Bishop Oswald would have been denied entry by the Norse, so remained in Ceastre.
"No, it was not young Finan," he told her. "But Aethelstan knows."
"I would expect no less," Osthryth replied. He was hers again, like he had never not been. Osthryth moved her hand on the bridle, but Finan put his hands over hers.
"She's dead," Finan told her. "Eadith." He glanced north. "Were you going to Constantine? Or Domnall?"
"My love is kin-love," Osthryth told him. "Nothing more, nothing less. It always has been. And I am aware that Eadith is dead. That's not what I'm asking you." Osthryth glanced south. "More than my brother, who would bring another woman back to Bebbanburg."
"She's dead, Osthryth!" Finan insisted. "And anyway, I am your kin now."
"But, either way, it was distasteful of him," Osthryth insisted back. "And for all I knew, you had left me." There was a long silence between them. And then he kissed her, in the same way that he always did, and in the same way it always did, his lips, his hands, his body turned her on.
"Tell me no more," Finan said to her, putting a hand arond her, and with the other, the rein. Tell me no more, Osthryth, ask me no more, and come away home with me. To Berric."