September 914

Young Finan was curled up in the crook of Osthryth's arm when Ceinid hammered on her chamber door. She would have to put a stop to his talking at night, which had begun with Osthryth telling him a story about their ancestor, Oswald, and her son telling her three, the last being Saint Cuthbert's story, of the salmon and the eagle.

Aedre has been taking him to Culdees every day and every story was an opportunity for the boy to remember it. The first time she remembered Young Finan doing this, he had told of King Edwin and the visitation of the priest, when he was in exile in Cent of an angel telling him of the Christian faith. She had remembered Young Finan quieting Constantine's banqueting hall as her son recited the tale and, to Osthyth's amazement, how the room had fell still, watchful, as he told the story out loud and clear. A true sgeulaiche, she had thought, as her mind had drifted to Sula and the woman's declaration.

But because Osthryth had not stopped him talking the previous night, his mind had become too animated for sleep and he had then got overtired, and Osthryth had promised to make sure Young Finan did not talk the next night. She rolled her son over so she could make her arm escape, wondering how it was so many mothers found it easy to parent their children - or at least seem to make it easy - when it felt so hard for her.

It had taken a year before Osthryth regained her strength. Training, training and the feel of her sword, and drill practise with the sons of the mormaers from all over Alba and the muscle memory in her hands soon recalled Buaidh and Taghd's sword as she taught sword skill with Ceinid beside her. It had begun slowly, and had built up her strength.

Now, Constantine had called her to him, having heard from Osthryth of her acceptance of Ceinid's proposal and wish to resume being a warrior and told her that she was to begin by training the sons of the lormaers.

It was a good role, one she had spent years doing, in Wessex, in Mercia. Little bratlings full of ideas and who knew everything - off you go, young children, go on, untrained, if you know everything, seeing as you know everything. Watch a Norseman's axe go through your friend's skull: yours next.

Ceinid hammered again. The birds had not even woken, and nor had Osthryth, enough, but he was persistent.

"Osthryth! Osthryth!"

That got her up, and she carried Young Finan through to Aedre's room and nestled him beside her, pulling on her jerkin over her shirt. Her breeches were half way up when Ceinid pulled open the door and stood in the doorway, leaning on the wall, grinning.

"Two more arrived last night, snotty-nosed little curs."

"Two more?"

"The sons of Cataidh, in the far north, and south of it, Moireabh, arrived last night," Ceinid told her, watching her dress. Osthryth stopped pulling on her clothes, and paced over to him. Ceinid's sharp eyes looked at her animated face and he pointed his head in her direction.

Osthryth stretched past him to pull down her sword belt, which Ceinid took from her and wrapped around her hips. Their hands touched for a moment, and Osthryth wrapped her fingers around his. His bright eyes met hers, and drew up her hand, kissing the back of it.

"Cellach is already up, and rousing the buggers," Ceinid told her. "You have a handful there."

"I have had worse, I am sure," Osthryth told him. To train the young, that was where she needed to start. To get used to sword craft again, and teach herself as well as the future of Alba in the form of its young men from Pictland and Dal Riata.

And indeed he was down, with five boys beside him. Above them, Finan beag was watching the courtyard, at the warriors assembling, which he had done nearly every day of his life, except with his mother next to him, not his big sister. When Young Finan saw his mother, he began to wave and shouting down to her. Aedre shushed him, and told him that if he was going to do that, she would take him away.

"May I introduce your captain," Ceinid told the boys. All five of them were solemn, silent, but Osthryth's long experience told her that this usually meant trouble. And when she had called them forward, she found trouble, in the forms of Dubhcan, son of Dubhcan, Mormaer of Angus and Arrach, son of Drostan of Charraig. Osthryth gripped Buaidh, feeling the memory of the last week coming back to her, as Aeswi, Feilim and Oengus had trained her strength back into her.

It was coming back to her, the feel of her sword in her hand, the placement of Taghd's seax at her hip. How to double back and stab forward with it, at the back of the knee, in the groin, under the arm pit. Osthryth knew she was slower than she had been and had made mistakes. Aeswi told her to forgive herself, and it would come in time. It had. He also asked her about the marriage proposal.

"Constantine told us and his ,ormaers," he told Osthryth, taking her to one side and they had walked beside the Forth. "You are going to marry?"

"Yes," Osthryth agreed. "And none is more surprised than I; I never thought I would marry."

"And Ceinid?"

"I have known him forever; he will provide a home for me and for Young Finan, and - " she had broken off when she saw the look of doubt in Aeswi's eyes. "I trust him," Osthryth told him. "He will take care of young Finan; his father is lost to me."

Aeswi had said nothing, and they had continued training. How could it be different, though, Osthryth had thought. How could Aeswi doubt her motivations when Osthryth had made a promise to Finan that he would never keep?

Now, a prickle of the memory came back to Osthryth as she spied Aeswi next to Young Finan in the room above. He called down to his mother, but Osthryth did not look up. It must be strange for him, she thought, for it was usually Osthryth and Young Finan watching everyone in the courtyard training.

In front of her, two boys stood. They were not of the usual young boys - these were the "curs" who had arrived the night before and had upset Ceinid's sleeping arrangements. And that gave Osthryth an idea about these youngsters' attitudes, if Ceinid, the most placid man in the country, had been put out.

"Come," she beckoned to the two boys, who were hovering near their fathers. "Come, show me your weapons." Neither moved, although Dubhcan pushed his son away from him. Young Dubhcan took a few involuntary steps forward, then stopped, and glowered at Osthryth.

"So, you are Constantine's Sais whore?" he asked, his weapon out for her to examine it. A gasp came from around the courtyard. Close your mouth now, Osthyth thought, as she raised Buaidh, of it will be worse for you. Behind him, Dubhcan, Mormaer of Angus, took a step and hit his son hard around the head, looking embarrassed.

But it did not deter young Dubhcan, and he swaggered towards Osthryth, the bear skin draped around his shoulders.

"I heard that Aed, the king's father - " and at this uoung Dubhcan looked to Constantine and nodded an acknowledgement, " - captured you and gave you to his son - " young Dubhcan looked up to Young Finan, " - and you have been on your back, opening your legs, since - "

Too much trash talk, Osthryth thought, as she put in an under-thrust to young Dubhcan's hand. The noble Pictish boy automatically dropped the weapon and he watched it in dismay as it skittered across the cobbles. He turned back to Osthryth, outrage on his features but she had already decided what she was going to do to disable him.

She fell, and dropped her sword. Before her, young Dubhcan would be swaggering, she knew, and bowed her head until she saw his boots beside her sword, which he then trod on.

"You see?" he was boasting, "No woman can - "

But Osthryth was reaching for Taghd's seax as she leapt for his ankles. Young Dubhcan fell to the dirt as she kicked his shins, and Osthryth drew up the blade. She nearly had him, but he had managed to push her over. He swung a punch, which hit Osthryth in the face, but at the angle he was swinging, Young Dubhcan had no power behind it.

Osthryth took up her blade and made to stab towards his chest, but then thrust herself to one side, feigning a stab to the back of his knees. Young Dubhcan fell over once again, and Osthryth was on her feet again, having looped Buaidh into her other hand. She stood over the young nobleman, both blades aimed into his torso. He looked up to her, then let his head sink back down in defeat.

"Yes," Osthryth murmured as Dubhcan crossed the courtyard towards his son, "Yes. I am a murchoirthe, a cuglas, a grey outsider, but I am the outsider who will show you how to fight the Sais!" Young Dubhcan made to reach for his blade and Osthyth let him. He tried to stab her but his blade passed over shoulder missing any chance to harm her. Osthryth stood back.

"Well, it hit me," Osthryth mocked him as Young Dubhcan got to his feet. "But I am not cut. Tell me, is your blade one that ColmCille himself blessed?"

Around them, many in the crowd laughed as Osthryth paced around him. "And, as you like ColmCille so much, here is- " she stood on his chest, "Three prayers to our God on high - " Osthryth opened up her arms as Constantine's bishop did, "Please give young Dubhcan another chance, because he isn't really a cu-shite after all, Cromdubh knew about this, am I right?" This earned much more laughter, and she stepped off Young Dubhcan's trust, waving her fingers around the handles of her blades as if to encourage the joke.

She knew a little of ColmCille for she had listened to young Finan tell them to her night after night, and there were many useful moral tales to be known - or maybe that was the point with ColmCille?

"I may be called many things, some of which are true," Osthryth added, to the faint tinkle of a laugh around her, "But you, cu-shite, are an idiot!" Dubhcan crossed the stableyard and wrenched his sword from the floor. He glanced backwards to Osthryth said nothing.

"And you?" The second princeling looked terrified as he looked across to Osthryth, his arm shaking as he held a long-handled axe out to her. "Name?"

"Uunst, of Donndhea," he stammered. "You - " But time for speaking over, Osthyth made to swing her sword towards the shaft of the axe, but instead, her sword fell to her side.

"Come, at me," Osthryth instructed. Uunst looked to one side and the other, before raising his sword, and giving the loudest battle-scream Osthryth could imagine in such a slight child. She parried, and just about brought the sword around. He thrust into nothing, but turned back, and tried again.

It took Osthryth just a few minutes more to unsword the boy, making sure she treated him nobly, as he had treated her. Insults before battle were expected; personal insults from princelings had crossed the line. So Osthryth wanted everyone to see, the mormaers, Aeswi, Constantine - even Aedre, who would probably be watching with young Finan from his rooms - that respect begat respect. And he had learned on the third parry not to turn so late, that a swift double back was worth the effort, for Uunst had nearly unbalanced her.

"Very good!" she praised, when she got a blade cut to the back of her hand. She hadn't been quick enough and the boy had.

The third and fourth boys had learned quickly they were here for a lesson, and not for foolish posturing, and they too gained some more to their skills. As midday came, Ceinid came to collect the trainees. Osthryth wiped her brow with the back of her hand, the one she had cut, which stung with the salts in her sweat.

"You did well," said Feilim, approaching her, grinning. "Young Dubhcan is an arrogant shite; we enjoyed how you put him in his place." Osthryth turned to him.

"He learned something; they all did. If he had spoken to me like that and we were not in training, however, his father would have been short of an heir."

"Kill him?" Feilim asked, curiously.

"Cut his balls off," Osthryth clarified. "And his sword hand. That he could never work, nor father a child to support him in his old age."

"Brutal stuff," Feilim commented. But Osthryth shook her head.

"I have a reputation to uphold. And I read. I read what I can, when I can. That is the punishment that was meted out to failed gladiators. They were an insult to their emperor. That little bastard in waiting was insulting King Constantine, through me. It would have been my duty. I hope that he learns the easy way, for his sake."

It was the effort of the day making her talk like that, Osthryth knew, but there was a kernel of truth in it. She had had a child, and she was not as strong as she had been. This meant her justice with respect to Constantine had to be infallible in order for these young boys - who would soon be men - to know her, and respect her. Nothing else mattered.

"I'm here because King Constantine wants to see you immediately," Feilim told her. Osthryth got to her feet. She wondered why, but it didn't take long for her to find out.

"You are to go to Mercia, to Brunanburh again," Constantine told Osthryth, as she stood before him. A quick glance from Aeswi told her he was serious. "You owe your time to Mercia - begin there. I am told there is an influx of Norse heading down the Maerse in order to settle in the west of Northumbria. The lady is in need of assistance and, according to my treaty with her, she must have it."

Lady, Osthryth wanted to spit. Lady?

But then, noticing Ceinid, standing beside his cousin, was watching her, it would be as well for their marriage to earn the years from the Lady's service as quickly as possible. Feilim, Aeswi and Oengus would be with her, she supposed, and she would get the lie of the land from Aelffrith and Merewalh.

Brunanburh. Was the fortress already built? And a brief sting of sadness cut at her heart - this would be the first time she would be leaving young Finan. He would watch his mother ride away to war.

Those thoughts in her head, Osthryth stepped forward on cue as Constantine beckoned her to him, standing up and facing her, as if equals. Then, he bent his head to her ear.

"I want to know what is settled about the king of Eoferwic now Guthred is dead. Owain is to come with you." He stepped back, and Osthryth did too, and for the first time she saw that, beside Oengus was the heir to the Strathclydian throne.

"Constantine, you think it wise?" Words, the like of which she might utter in moments of intimacy while he lay beside her, came out of Osthryth's mouth before she could stop them. She stood, still, as the audible gasp from the direction of Constantine's warriors filled his throne room.

But the king of Alba merely smiled, and held up a hand, nodding as a small whisper had begun in this now impromptu court.

"You care for the boy, I understand this," Constantine told her. And I have already lost Ildubh. Is this wise, you ask?" He got to his feet again. Osthryth felt her heart move. It was the first time, to her knowledge, that he had mentioned his second son, who had drowned just over two years before. Constantine would have Aedre's marriage alliance with Anlaf, and Cellach was his heir, MaelColm, Domhnall's son, now next.

But he wanted a united Alba, and to get that, he needed Owain to submit, or at least to bow in fealty, once Strathclyde was Dyfnwal's no longer. And it was true, the boy did need battle experience.

But really? Battle experience in Mercia, where his uncle Idwal Foel, who had indeed yielded Gwynedd to Hywel and extinguished the House of Aberffraw, would desire him back, not least for ransom purposes?

She had promised Anarawd; she had plucked him from Ynys Enlli to sail the long way back to Pictland, so precarious was his position in the top-left hand corner of Wales once his grandfather died.

"I tell you, warrior Osthryth," and took her hand, holding it aloft with his own as if in victory. "You are the person to whom I trust the most with my kingdom, whom I trust most with my descendants!" Constantine declared to his warriors, to his household. "This warrior, known as Kriegerkvinde to the Norse, who had ties to both Mercia and Northumbria," he added, glancing to Osthryth, "Is, I declare, the person in whose hands I trust with my cousin's kin, Owain." And then he let go of Osthryth's hand, and with another, swung it open with an arc, towards the heir of Strathclyde.

"Owain mac Dyfnwal," he said, and it was only then that Osthryth saw the man that the young boy she had taken from the Gwynedd's holy isle had become. Tall, like his father amd big, with the warm, fair hair of the Cymric, soft brown eyes that she remembered were so inquisitive as he watched the waves in their traverse north all those years ago. Those years before Finan beag had been born.

Looking at him now, Osthryth was saddened at the time she had missed, with the nobles of Alba, with the politics. Had she been a man, it would have been a woman who had given birth to young Finan; she would have been able to return to her role as warrior immediately after his birth, immediately after his conception, she supposed, while someone else did all the work. And she had missed out on so much, so many chances of command.

So she would not miss out on this one.

Osthryth glanced at Constantine, who was still speaking, and attuned her ears to his words.

"...with warriors Osthryth, Feilim, Oengus, and Aeswi, to Caestre, to aid the Mercians."

"Lead the Mercians," Osthryth told, him, turning confidently towards her king. Constantine stopped talking, and did not protest at her interruption. "I have command responsibilities in Mercia." She glanced to the Gaelish and Pictish warriors before her, and added, "We have found a way to fight beside one another against the scourge of the Norse and I am sure we will do so again."

And then fell silent, for she was suddenly patently aware that, as well as Constantine's warriors nodding in agreement at her words, that beside Owain was Aedre. She was betrothed to a Norse lord - Anlaf; she herself had both Norse and Danish blood. Aedre could be offended at Osthryth's description of her kin. But Aedre was smiling, and this made Osthryth smile more.

"Warrior Osthryth," Owain said, still standing beside Constantine, and she noticed that a few brief gesticulations and nods had occurred between him and the warriors, Constantine and Ceinid. She straightened her back, and looked at the king-in-waiting patiently, aware that she was still covered in dirt from battle training; Feilim had insisted she go to Constantine immediately.

"Warrior Osthryth," Owain repeated, and as he spoke, Osthryth knew that if she had felt any hostility at all in mentoring Owain, it would have melted under his words, humble and honest, as he spoke as if to entreat her. "I am in need of counsel, in both politics of our southern neighbour and in battle training." He glanced to Constantine, who nodded briefly as if encouraging the prince to speak on.

"I would be honoured to learn in your stead, as a warrior beside your other warriors, those of Pictland - " he nodded to Feilim and Aeswi, "And the Gaels. To learn beside the Mercians as we hold off an invasion of our lands." He bowed his head. "To learn from my kin, daughter of Gwythelth of House Urien of Rheged. Please grant me a position beside you, honourable warrior, that I may learn my skill."

It took a few moments for Osthryth to realise the hush in the throne room was because she was being waited on for an answer. She resisted the urge to nurse her head, to touch her forehead with her hand in wonder at where her wit was now. Osthryth had changed, that much she knew, and she was still getting used to those changed. Things she relied upon before, such as her decisiveness in issues surrounding war, and was now perturbed to think that her mind did not operate in the same way as it had once done.

But that was something to consider in the future. Now, her king was calling on Osthryth to be his delegation in Caestre, at a critical point where many Norse were invading the country. She was needed. Her mind worked on, and knew what she had to do.

Osthryth opened her mouth to speak, just as a ripple of some sort passed between Constantine and Owain, and back to Ceinid, though she had no idea what. She turned, and looked just above the future king of Strathclyde's eyes, a trick she had learned that meant he thought she was looking directly at him, but in fact it was a ploy to help her concentrate.

"If I may, Lord King?" Deferring to Constantine was a good move, she considered. Just as he was in the process of nodding, Osthryth continued. "My being out of the arena of war for some time, I still think of you as the stripling who came back to his homeland. You are a grown man now, with the desire to honour your father, the king of Strathclyde, and your kin - our kin," she added, making sure everyone in the hall heard.

"What would Urien think if I did not fulfil a kinsman's desire bring honour to his land?" Osthryth took a few steps forward until she was much closer to the young man. He had grown to the height his father, and she had to look further up than she had imagined.

"Prince Owain, it is I who am honoured."

The hush descended again, the few snatched comments from the warriors falling to nothing. For King Constantine was now standing between them.

"Then, it is settled." He looked between Owain and Osthryth, before resting his eyes on her face. "You will leave tonight with my delegation for the Lady Aethelflaed."

Tonight? Osthryth breathed, and her heart beat faster, her thoughts immedately falling to young Finan. And a second thought told her not to betray what it was about to tell her onto her features, but the king was probably testing her reaction at the prospect of leaving her son.

"I may speak to you, lord king?" Osthryth told him. But it was not for this matter, or at least, a different matter for young Finan. When the court had been dismissed and Ceinid had closed the throneroom doors behind himself, Osthryth looked at Constantine gravely.

"I cannot take Finan beag," she told him. "He cannot come with me." And Constantine raised a hand and took a few steps towards her, though not as close as he usually might. He was taking her betrothal to Ceinid seriously, then, Osthryth mused, and suddenly yearning for the closeness they once had.

"He will stay here, of course," Constantine assured her. "Dunnottar is his home; as far as I am concerned, he has no other, until he goes with you and Ceinid, to Berric." He watched as relief shone on her face.

"Thank you, Constantine," Osthryth told him, then put out a hand. Constantine took a moment before taking it, holding it gently, not pulling her close, not trying to feel for her body. "Tell me," she added. "What am I there for, in Mercia? With Aethelflaed? What intelligence do you need?"

"As much as you can give me. In reality, you are honouring our tripartite agreement. But Aethelstan, through his father and his aunt, grows in ambition, and I can foresee a time when I, or Cellach, or MaelColm, will have to defend Alba from incursions, from acquisition. And those people we rely on as allies now may not be the same people we rely on in the future. Other alleigances hold," he added.

And Osthryth agreed, to Constantine then, and in her own mind as she rode off with the four warriors towards the east, through Dyfnwal's land, to track down through Caer Ligualid and south towards the Maerse. Young Finan had cried when she had told him she was leaving to fight a battle, but at the end of it, holding Aedre's hand, her son had stood silently.

She had kissed and loved him, and had turned to wave before focusing on the road ahead of her, refusing to turn back again to wave for she did not trust that she would not abandon her errant mount and run back towards the boy. He lived there now, this was his home, all he knew. And what Osthryth was doing, whatever it would end up being, paid for his keep. It was a business transaction after all.

But it did not stop Osthryth feel a lurch of sadness in her stomach, which she held as they passed the low hills near Scone, and which Aeswi had noticed, prompting him to ride closer to her.

"Do you feel unwell, Osthryth?" he asked. Osthryth turned to her friend and smiled, though not an enthusiastic smile, merely a functional one.

"Thank you for asking, Aeswi," she told him, "I am not."

"Ride with me further up the track," he told her, and she drove her horse after his a little way on. "Now tell me," he asked her.

"Just, I feel different. To before I birthed young Finan," she told him. "I cannot rely on my body any more, nor my thoughts. What I was used to, what was me, is no more."

"I see no difference," Aeswi told her. "You are Osthryth, the Gaelish warrior, you have done many brave, many mighty things, and you will do so again. This is your first campaign since young Finan was born; it's bound to feel strange if you are out of practise." He leaned across in the saddle and added, in a low voice, "You will remember how to be a warrior quicker than you realise."

And with that, Osthryth turned her head, then gave the signal for Aeswi to slow his horse to her pace to let Feilim and Oengus and Owain catch up with them.

"And that was about...?" Owain asked. Osthryth turned, ready to berate him, as an officer would to her rank and file. Then she realised Owain probably did not know how to be, as a warrior, as a novice. It would be up to her to teach him.

"Only that we wish to reach your father's kingdom tonight," Osthryth told him, then glanced at Feilim and Oengus, her look telling them that she was in charge once more.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Oengus asked her, and all five of them accelerated to a gallop as they passed across Constantine's fields, the evening sun lighting their way west.

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Three days later, and Osthryth's party, who had travelled the road out from Caer Ligualid unharassed by either Northumbrian, Mercian or Norseman, were met about a mile from Caestre by a tall young man on horseback, flanked behind by three other warriors.

When he called for their leader, Osthryth rode forward, watching the man's dark hair that fell in waves to his shoulders, pale grey eyes searching her face, and she fought her mind to think why the man was so familiar to her.

It was only when she saw Aldhelm that she knew it was Aethelstan, who did not smile, but acknowledged Osthryth with careful respect, and told her, when she had told him she had been sent by Constantine to honour the Tripartite agreement that stood between him and Aethelflaed that his aunt had not yet arrived at the city.

They rode to the city, Osthryth introducing Owain to Aethelstan, whom he acknowledged with the same rigid formality as he had done Osthryth, but at that moment, she didn't feel she could care about Aethelstan's manner, for to her right were her Gaelish and Pictish warriors, with one Strathclydian prince; to her left were Aelffrith and Merewalh, her dearest Mercian comrades, Aldhelm, Aethelflaed's loyal man riding next to Aethelstan, giving short glances behind him and then low-volumed words to Aethelflaed's nephew.

Long gone were the days when Aethelred, Aethelflaed's husband and previous Lord of Mercia had ordered him to Saltwic to murder his wife. Osthryth had ridden after him to prevent him from carrying out his master's orders, which Aldhelm had no intention of following, Osthryth had found.

And under the gateway to the city itself they passed, allowing the first two horses carrying Aldhelm and Aethelstan to pass unhindered, but bunching tightly to funnel the warriors, even Merewalh and Aelffrith, into single file. It was soon to be clear why.

"Merewalh and I can handle the horses," Aelffrith told Osthryth and her men. You should come to help," he added, addressing Osthryth, and resting untrusted eyes onto Feilim, Oengus and Owain.

"Come with me," Aethelstan urged. "Your captain can join you in due course."

Osthryth didn't watch as they trooped towards the city's hall, a three-storey affair guarded heavily, just further up Caestre's main street. It was too much to ask her Mercian warriors to find natural fraternity with the warriors of the north - they had fought together once, against the common enemy - crying out in unity for the greatest whore in Christendom - and they would do again, for the Norse were to be stopped flooding into the east of Northumbria. Too many of their number and they could begin to take cities on sheer strength of number.

So they would be comrades again, Osthyth considered, as she hurried to the stables with her one-time captains, who she had soon outranked. Firm friends, rather, Osthryth told herself. Even after four years, neither looked much different, although Aelffrith was greying at the temples and Merewalh seemed to have more wrinkles than she remembered. How she must have changed to them, though, and she was glad when Merewalh had got the horses in, and bolted the door behind them.

"There has been a conflict with Norse just outside Mamcaestre," Aelffrith told her, after greetings had been exchanged, big claps on the back, and hugs from Osthryth because big claps on the back for twenty years of serving side by side was unthinkable. "Aethelflaed feels their number means that we are on the back foot." He glanced towards the stable door as some of the travel-weary horses snorted.

"We don't have long - as emissary for the King of Alba, you will be required at the hall, and we should take you promptly." Aelffrith glanced to the door, squinting his eyes as he peered through the crack, before turning back to Osthryth. "You are to help us quell the incursions of the Norse from Dubh Lynn."

"We four are meant to match the Norse?" Osthryth asked. "Constantine sent us only, not an army."

"'Tis not an army that is needed from the north," Merewalh told her. "Just the act of witness that the Norse come." He leaned towards her and whispered by her ear, "Rumour has it that your king has married his daughter to Anlaf Guthfrithson." Osthryth pulled back a little, giving Merewalh a silent look, which she then radiated onto Aelffrith, who curled his lip in a questioning smile.

"It is Aedre, his adopted daughter, and they are not married," Osthryth said quickly, her eyes darting to the door of the stables, echoing Merewalh. "If you remember, she is Father Beocca's child, her mother his wife, a Dane."

"Your adopted daughter," Aelffrith asked Osthryth. She nodded.

"And they are not wed, not even betrothed." Aelffrith smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. Indeed, this whole encounter was not the comfortable, warm welcome that Osthryth had imagined. Indeed, none of this was what she imagined, no slip back into life - life had moved on, and she had stood still, life paused as she raised her child. Aelffrith's voice brought Osthryth out of her thoughts and she forced herself to look at her friend, her once commander, her once soldier as he came out with it all.

"So, the idea that Constantine is courting the Norse to allow them onto a second frontier, with the aid of King Dyfnwal, and your brother?" The accusation hung between them - clearly a link had been put together that did not exist; someone, Aethelflaed, Osthryth supposed, had conflated Anlaf's visit to Dunnottar

"So it is not true?" Aelfflaed asked, his voice taking on a hard tone, and Osthryth looked at her dear friend, and felt a pulse of pain in her chest, pain borne from time apart, nearly five years apart. She had had a child; she had missed so much!

"Entirely not!" Osthryth found she was protesting, despite not knowing anything of the sort. "Entirely - " she broke off, and looked away. After a moment, she looked back.

"In truth, I do not know," she confessed. "The last battle I fough was the one just over there, when the Norse were incurring into Wirulam. I have - " Osthryth broke off, and started as two arms drew her close for a moment, before Aelffrith kissed her forehead.

"Welcome back to Mercia, captain," he told Osthryth. "We are at your service as you carry out yoir own service. Two years, I believe the Lady Aethelflaed commanded you pay back to the kingdom?" Osthryth drew back, and smiled, a wide, deep smile of a person amongst friends. "Your men will be pleased to have you back," he added. "They have suffered under Aelfkin, they truly have!"

"Aelfkin? Captain? Truly?" Osthryth asked, astonished, looking between Merewahl and Aelffrith.

"You forget he is a child no longer," Merewalh reminded her. "And that you have a boy of your own, and your hair is greying." It was true, Osthryth thought. And the worm of doubt ate at her stomach. Could she do this? Was she able?

"But the point of my sword is still sharp," Osthryth retorted, shaking away uncertainty. "Do you want me to prove it to you?" She placed hand on Buaidh, and Merewalh laughed.

"Same old Osthryth, as you said she would be," Merewalh told Aelffrith. And then Aelffrith bent to her ear again.

"We think you are here to test the alliance," Aelffrith told her. "To check Constantine's word holds true. Clearly it does. Clearly trust has been offered by your king, that he would send his best warriors, and the heir to the Strathclydian throne in your midst. That is good."

"Presumably, you will report back to him, with the Norse trepasses," added Merewalh, raising a hand and patting Osthryth lightly on her upper arm.

"I will report back to him," Osthryth agreed. "But I am ready for battle. Older, changed. But ready."

"Good," Aelffrith told her. "Because the alarm will be raised tonight, as it is raised every night, the sign that the Norse have attacked villages and settlements. It is our job to keep them at bay while the Lady Aethelflaed finishes building the burh."

"A mighty burh in the line of sight of every Northman who comes east from Dubh Llyn," Merewalh told her. "Armed, ready."

"Ready for what?" Osthryth asked, wishing she hadn't had to. But she could guess already - noise had already been made by the Norse about settling, about regaining the land they had held, under Ragnar the Fearless, under Ivarr, under Ubba and the rest.

"But - " Osthryth began, but Aelffrith held up a hand, the evening glow of the sun reflecting from his fingers.

"We must return you," he told Osthryth. "Your Alba warriors will be wondering whre you are; Aethelstan will be wondering where I am."

"Aethelstan?" Osthryth echoed.

"Acting in his aunt's stead; acting to his aunt's exact words, much to his ingnomny." Aelffrith strode towards the door of the stables as thick, heavy rain buffeted it. Osthryth made to stride after him, steeling herself for the interrogation, for the test of loyalty. She was emmisary for Constantine, come to observe the Norse, assist in their repulsion, or, if not repulsion, limitation. But it was laughable that they five could add much to the resistance. She could command her men again, she supposed, and -

But the thoughts withered in Osthryth's mind as she glanced to Aelffrith again. They had known one another for over thirty years, and the grab that she made for his arm was one laden with familiarity, of trust. She lowered her head.

Aelffrith, in all the time he had known Osthryth, had never known her to weep. She was not weeping now, as far as he could ascertain, but her frame was moving as if she was and he gave an uncertain glance to Merewalh. When Osthryth looked up, there was a look of fear, one of panic, and he put a steady arm around her shoulders before she straightened up.

"The last battle in which I stood, dear friend, was the one against the Norse, just over there." Osthryth's voice was low, clear. "I am still in Constantine's service, but I thought...guard duty, even on the east coast repelling Finehair, or training the young noble bratlings." She looked up to him, her fear made real in words between them.

"My body has changed, my mind too, as I knew it would. Why I saw through this pregnancy, when I chose to end every other chld from my body..." Her voice drifted off. Aelffrith put a hand on her shoulder. "I earn this, I wed, I become a farmer."

"You - " he began, and glanced to Merewalh. "Wed? To the Irishman?" Osthryth smiled wanly.

"His name is Ceinid; he is kin to Constantine and the head of his household guard. You met him once, Aelffrith, when he came with me to Wessex when I brought Aedre to see her father."

Aelffrith nodded, remembering the slight, black-haired man, who could barely speak Anglish but knew the language of the alehouse and had struck up a friendship with Steapa.

"Then you have done, you are doing your best for the child," Aelffrith assured her. "You did...you have done what any parent would do - put the babe somewhere you know to be safe; give it a future." His voice was soft by her ear, and pulled her to him for a moment, embracing her as a friend, and long and loyal comrade, and she remembered Aelffrith's wife, Aethel, and the empty cribs they both longed to have filled. "If Constantine had not thought you could do this he would not have sent his best warriors with you as their captain; he would not have sent the heir to the throne of Strathclyde..."

Which was true. All of it was true. After the effort to retrieve Owain, and stabilise Dyfnwal's line, pacifying him by securing his line, Constantine would have only sent her if he thought she was able. He knew she owed her time to Aethelflaed, and had spoken to her about how serious she was in repaying the time.

"I can strike a bargain," Constantine had told her, one early morning, when he had scaled the tower and entered her maternity chamber. "I can send Aethelflaed wealth, or men." But Osthryth, then as now, had refused. Would refuse. And there was Ceinid, whom she had agreed to marry once her time had been paid. Clearly Constantine wanted the marriage to happen as soon as possible and facilitated Osthryth an opportunity.

"You're smiling," said Merewalh, light in his own eyes from the setting sun. "I am glad to see that, Osthryth." He looked to Aelffrith. "Osthryth has come back to us, friend," he told him, and Aelffrith nodded.

"Look to us, should you need to, should you wish to confide away from your men. We are in a tricky situation; the Norse are welcomed on the one hand, with the land Aethelflaed gifted to them on the Wirulam. On the other, so many come that they will overwhelm us."

And Osthryth threw herself at Merewalh then, the grumpy, bad-tempered former captain of Odda's guard, who had mellowed when he had been allowed to return to Mercia, and had warmed to Osthryth as she proved herself time and again skilful and able at warfare.

"We are glad to have you here, in short," Aelffrith told her, and gave her another hug at the shoulders. "It is a pity it is not forever."

"It's for a good long time," Osthryth told him. "Many months at least, until we are recalled. Until whatever use our being here is played out.

"Then, the men are yours, of course, to command," Aelffrith told her. "Work with them, with Oshere and Falkberg, and Aeglwulf and Leofstan; Aelfkin can be your second. Get your band to work as one - trust me when I say that you will need to.