Late Summer 920
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The lean month was on them, the time between midsummer and harvest. Fortunately for the people living on Ceinid's land there had been no raids so far, so the population could eke out their winter stores, supplementing their diet with prosperous herring catches.
Osthryth, on her one of her daily dawn patrol of the lands noticed the lone figure riding from the north west and met him, Taghd's seax to hand, at the ridge of land north of the Tuide.
It was Aeswi. He had come with the same summons as the hapless messenger had come with a fortnight before.
"I will tell you what I have told the fool you sent, I will not go to Dunnottar," Osthryth said, stubbornly. "I have land and people who rely on me." But Aeswi's presence was not unwelcome. Indeed, she invited him back to the hall and bade Rhia, the kitchen maid, to prepare food from what they had.
"If not for Constantine, then for your son," Aeswi asked, tucking into the smoked herring and stonies, made from crushed root vegetables and baked on stones in a hot fire.
"Is he well?" Osthryth asked, at once.
"He misses you, surely," Aeswi told him. Osthryth was pacing the kitchen again, slowly, and looking out of the window. He had never seen her like that before, and wondered as to the grief she must be suffering.
"Then he can be sent here, as I asked, when Ceinid and I...when Ceinid - " Osthryth broke off, and Aeswi ignored his platter that came tumbling to the stone floor in his haste to approach her. For she was crying.
Osthryth barely cried - in fact, she could not remember the last time she had done so. But these tears were borne of guilt, of her reluctance to come to Berric, to labour here under duress with the appreciation of the love that her husband showed her mean recompense. Guilt from leaving her inexpert managing of the farmlands, which Munadd, the estate's manager and ancient friend of Ceinid, never complained about, but from what Osthryth could tell created more work for him, to do what she did best, and fight, a selfish indulgence, she knew, when her responsibilities were at Berric.
The people had, over the years she had been their, inexplicably worked their way into her heart. And if she were to leave now, when there was no lord for them to serve, what would become of them? This is what she told Aeswi, as he sat beside her and comforted her.
"I will leave, I will tell him," Aeswi told Osthryth. "But please, I beg you to reconsider. The king wishes for you to tell him of your grief."
And Osthryth watched as her friend left, over the ridge of hills that led to Melrose monastery and away to the southern banks of the Forth.
But that was not the end of it.
A week later, just as the people were preparing for the harvest, and as Osthryth rode her horse in the dawnlight on the perimeter of Ceinid's land, she heard shouts from behind her. It was Caltigar, Munadd's son, and he too was on a horse, riding with haste towards her.
"Reivers!" he shouted, not looking at Osthryth directly, but to the west, along the course of the Tuide. And he was right. A dozen or more men were riding in haste in their direction, and her farms would be the first to be hit.
Bastards. They knew exactly when to strike, when the farms were beginning to fill. No, Osthryth told herself. My people's hard work will not be what you steal.
She had no sword now, and though she had thought about replacing Buaidh, lost at the battle in which her elder brother had won Bebbanburg, it was not something she had prioritied. A mistake, a damned mistake, Osthryth told herself, although nothing could be done about it now.
"Go back, boy," she told Caltigar. "Tell your father to get the men, bring reaping hooks, bring axes. Defend their homes. Burn the harvest before these cunts get it!" Caltigar reined his horse, which tottered on the spot as he turned him. But he looked over his shoulder once more, counting the figures.
"They will get to the eastern farmland first," Osthryth told him. "Get your father to defend there, and then leave them. Ride over the river and get the southern farms to dig in their harvest, the women and children. Send the men north. We will stop the - " she broke off as she looked back at the bastard rievers, thieves, outlaws as they were who raided farms in Northumbria and Pictland, Strathclyde and Cumbraland. The families had grown rich and lived in strongholds in the centre of the land. And riever caught was killed instantly, such was their scourge on farmland in all directions.
But these were not rievers. One of the riders was carrying King Constantine's sigil, and had now slowed when they saw the two figures on horseback.
I am not going, Osthryth thought, sheathing Taghd's seax, as she glimpsed faces she knew: Uunst's guards Teamas and Ceansie; Mael Colm, King Domhnall's son riding next to his cousin, Cellach. Dubhcan and Drostan, the mormaer's sons who she had trained and had guarded her before her wedding to Ceinid. Oengus, of course, Constantine's general, Baldred, his squire, and Feilim. And next to him, and four other warriors was Aeswi.
Without a word, or any sign of acknowledgement of her former comrades, Osthryth turned her horse and rode down the ridge, and onto the brief, low-lying land at Berric. She crossed the pack horse bridge to the southern bank, where the fisher cottages were, and headed west, back to the farmhouse. Caltigar had followed her, and stood outside the door when Osthryth slammed it shut, a weak, if determined bulwark to the Alba army which had followed them.
"Move, boy," Oengus told Caltigar, "Your mistress must hear us!"
"I will move when she commands me," Caltigar replied, his frame almost as large as Oengus. It would be difficult to judge who would come of better in a fight, which is where it was heading, with Caltigar reaching for the wood-axe by the door frame and Oengus's blade scraping in its scabbard.
"Wait," Aeswi told them both. For, rather then force, something else might do the persuading. He strained his eyes to the hall table, before which he had sat a week or so before. And to the object on it.
Osthryth did not see it immediately. She paced before the fire that Rhia was making, the young woman's face was crumpled with concern, both for her mistress, and at the rumour, which had caught faster than the fire that Osthryth had planned, that the Scots had come to take her by force.
"Did anyone come to the hall this morning?" Osthryth asked Rhia in Cymric, as the girl moved the wood basket, and made to kneel before the blaze, leather screen in hand.
"No, mistress," she told Osthryth.
"No-one at all?"
"None that I saw," she told her. "Better if you ask Munadd; he was here just after you left. I am sure I heard him speaking to someone."
But it did not come to that. As Osthryth was contemplating de-fusing the tension at the front door of the hall, between ever-loyal Caltigar and the un-bending Oengus, she saw it.
The table, containing Osthryth's work basket of failed items, lavender from the north east coast field and the butter churn she was having better luck at mending, contained something else, something more. She looked more intently, looking at the fire irons and roasting spits, but amongst them, something gleamed, long and pointed.
At first, she could not discern what it was, or even that she was looking at it all. But the work was unmistakeable, the hilt, over which she had run her fingers so many times, contained the symbols of Gaels and Britons long past. Her eye caught the triskelion, the three curled branches of a circle that could even be found on the stones in Pictland, and on the Gaelish Ogham stones.
Buaidh. Buaidh lay on her hall table, as if she had been placed there by Osthryth herself, as if Osthryth had never been without her.
As she reached to touch her sword, she heard a gasp from Rhia, who dropped the cooking forks into the hearth. Osthryth turned. A man stood in the threshold of the back door, one foot in, one out.
Finan. He looked at Osthryth, unmoving, until Osthryth picked up Buaidh. "What does he want?" she asked him. Finan frowned.
"Osthryth," he began.
"My brother!" Osthryth demanded. "Why did Uhtred of Bebbanburg send you?" Rhia scuttled behind Osthryth as her one-time tormenter, then lover, father of her son took a few steps into the hall's kitchen.
"No, no," Finan shook his head. "I have not come from Lord Uhtred, although he sends his wishes." Osthryth felt her face grow hot.
"Wishes my land did not border his," Osthryth retorted, and then, from the look on Finan's face regretted it.
And then Finan turned, opening the door at the front of the hall, where a stand-off was taking place between Oengus, sword raised and Caltigar, equally determined to do as much damage as he could with the wood axe, if it came to it. Osthryth gave him a narrow-eyed look as she pushed between the potential combatants, only turning back when Finan called, "Osthryth!" She turned back, Buaidh raised.
"Of course! Of course he would send you rather than come himself," Osthryth called to him. "What is it he wants, then?"
"Osthryth!" Finan declared, and made to follow her, but heard Caltigar hiss, "Bastard rievers!" as he passed. Though untrue, Finan turned in at the barb in his striding after Osthryth. Caltigar's face changed from steely determination into rage, at the thought that he had found a thief after all , and made to go after him, but Oengus kicked the axe from his hand.
"Whatever it is, tell him no, Finan," Osthryth shouted back. She was nearly to her steed. If she could only be away, run away, it would be alright. She had farmers to see.
"Well that seems conclusive," Oengus commented to Feilim, who gave his fellow mormaer a grin as they saw Finan stop walking and glare at them. "The bastard set his sights too high in our captain."
"Watch out," Feilim told Oengus, not caring to disguise his comments by talking quieter." Aeswi, however, fell from his horse and landed with a thump on the ground, and hurried after Osthryth.
"Stop!" he demanded, and ran after her as Osthryth picked up her face. "Osthryth, stop. You need to know why we are here. He threw her hand away from her rein, and made her turn to look at him. She gave him a defiant glare.
"Do you not understand why Constantine wants you to return to Dunnottar?" he asked her.
"To remove these lands from me," Osthryth told him. "Constantine must come and tell me himself that Ceinid's lands are forefeit, otherwise, I will manage them myself." She made to struggle in Aeswi's hands, but the spy held her wrists.
"No," Aeswi told her. "The king has granted the wish that that man," and at this, he nodded to Finan, who was halfway between the Alba guard and themselves, "Has requested, which is to fulful his oath to you."
His oath, Osthryth thought, her fight ebbing in her arms. "His oath, to me?"
"Which is why we are to return to Dunnottar, why Constantine has asked you to come back," Aeswi told Osthryth. But, if she had heard his words, Osthryth did not show it. Panic, now, filled her chest, and she looked around at the landscape, the wheat fields that would soon be cleared, the sheep in the meadow.
"I cannot leave Berric," she told him, glancing to Finan. "What will become of the people who depend on my hus- " She broke off. Aeswi, Wishes fot you to remain here to put a hand on her arm.
"We ask that you come in procession to Dunnottar for the Ulaid warrior to fulfil his oath to you. King Constantine has agreed that you are then free to return here. And your son may come too." But Osthryth shook her head, and bent to her friend.
"He would not do this willingly; something is in it for him."
"Of course!" Aeswi laughed. "Your brother is your neighbour; you overlook the sea to the east. Constantine wants what he has always wanted, and if he gives you his land, he is saying in effect, he owns the land south of Culdees to Berric. In the tripartite alliance that Constantine agreed to with King Edward, the Wessex king has interpreted that he now has lordship over Northumbria, as well as Mercia. As far as he is concerned, this is Northumbria - Bernicia as was - to theForth." He glanced over to Finan. "Oh, and the warrior wishes to marry you, and Constantine has agreed to it."
Marry her.
It was a word that Osthryth had never thought possible, especially since she had said yes to Ceinid. Aeswi, as if reading her thoughts, added, "What would Ceinid want you to do?"
And she knew, Osthryth, who had been through so much, had done so much and was now clinging to guilty memories that were motivating her to remain at Berric, she knew exactly what the big-hearted, kind warrior, who had loved her so dearly, would want her to do now. Finan, however, had clearly taken this as a refusal, and was walking away, to a white horse which had been tied by its rein to a tree. Osthryth stepped from her own horse and from Aeswi and took a few steps towards him, stopping at the path that led to the farm's hall.
"Finan Mor!" Osthryth shouted, and she waited for him to turn. Then, she lay Buaidh down in front of her, on the scrub, before her feet. "I thank you for returning my blade. It is dear to me." He nodded, but said nothing. "He comes in peace," she told the Alba men, who knew, that, of course, and then said it again in Cymric for the benefit of the Pictlanders amongst Berric's estate, who had gradually been coming to the farm's hall, on hearing that an army from Alba had come to threaten their mistress.
"Finan Mor!" Osthryth called again. "You came here to ask me something. Ask it!"
And the words hung between them, like a wave smashing into rocks, drops of moisture clinging to the surface - the words were still there between them for what felt like many minutes after she had spoken them.
And Finan turned, pulling himself up onto his unsaddled horse, and looked to Osthryth as if he were riding away. But instead, he turned the white beast and moved towards her, addressing her from its back.
"I am Finan Uí Conchobar," he said without shame, "And I wish to accompany you to Dunnottar Fortress to tender a proposal to King Constantine."
"And I am Osthryth Ui Alpin, widow of Ceinid Ui Alpin," Osthryth replied, "Late cousin to the king. I will, by the grace of King Constantine, move to accept the proposal." She nodded, and Finan bowed from the back of the horse.
"Well, that's settled," she heard the voice of Aeswi say, and he turned and translated this to the people of the farm who had now moved closer to Caltigar, listening to the foreign Gaelish words. Osthryth turned too, and watched their faces, in full acceptance that the king of their land was negotiating a new lord to be installed in their lands, and their lady would remain. At the declaration that the new lord was likely to be Finan, they looked at him, unmoved. Then Osthryth turned to Munadd.
"This is a busy time, and a dangerous time to leave the land," she told him. "And I know that you and your son will manage to bring in the harvest." She turned to Oengus.
"I am leaving my estate with five of your men, with the intention that they serve King Constantine by offering my people protection. Please select your best."
A flinch of obsequence flashed over Oengus's face: he had never liked Osthryth taking the role of Captain. But he did as she had commanded and Teamas, Ceansie, Baldred, Herebald and Braan were summoned to stand beside Munadd and Caltigar.
And then Oengus raised his arm assembling the rest of his men, then lowered it, signalling that the army should march onwards. Finan, with a smile to Osthryth, pulled himself up on his white horse, and Osthryth mounted her own. After a moment, she saw Caltigar, who had hurried up to the horse's left flank and was holding out Buaidh to her.
"My thanks," she told him, wondering at how easy it had been to forget her blade, after no more than six weeks of losing her.
"Kin of Rheienmelth," Caltigar told Osthryth, and bowed his head. It wasn't until much later that Osthryth realised that her Cymric family, that of Urien, was not only known to the families here, but valued. They must have been descendents of the Britons who had fought for Urien, or against him. At Caetreth, as the Briton Ula had once told her, when she had nursed her wounds inflicted by Aethelwold. Who had told them? Ceinid? It must have been.
Osthryth nodded back, and then looked to the Alba warriors. Already Oengus was leading the men to the hills whence they had come. Finan waited for the line to pass and he drew back to where Osthryth rode, saying nothing. They exchanged smiles, then Osthryth asked about her brother, allowing him to speak rather than making bald assumptions, and they rode together, following the warriors.
And he told Osthryth that Uhtred was well, and his son had joined him - his younger son Uhtred, rather than Father Oswald - and that the men had been busy refortifying Bebbanburg as he had left. He had astonished her by saying that he had ridden to Constantine and seen young Finan.
"He is well," Finan told him. "He looks like my cousin. He was a sgeiliocht too." A storyteller, Osthryth knew, a lore-speaker. A person with such a memory and gift of language and music and rhyme that histories of a people would be told, on feast evenings, or to children. Beowulf was one, as the Anglish and Saxons knew, and the Gaels told of others, of the Cattle Run of Cooley, and of Niall, so powerful that he could command nine hostages, one from each of the seven Saxon kingdoms, and from Cymru, Wales, Deheubarth, and Aberffrau.
After some time, out of propriety, or perhaps something else, Oengus of Fortriu held back his horse and got between them, nodding to Finan to take his white horse to the back of the column.
They neared Beocca's monastery of Melrose, where he had grown and learned to be a priest, and as Aeswi spoke to the abbot, the men taking their horses to be stabled and tended, Osthryth crossed to Finan, and they crossed to a clearing, away from her chaperones.
"Why did you come," Osthryth asked.
"Because I love you, Osthryth, and I want to marry you," Finan told her, taking her hand. "You are free to marry, and Bebbanburg is won. Now," he added, looking at her, seriously. "I know you may yet turn me down, or the king might intervene: I tried to kill you when we were children; I gave information that made people, your brother included, treat you terribly. But, hear me when I tell you," Finan contnued, "I will not tie you down, you may live as you choose - at Berric, as I see you love the land so well. You have my son, and - "
But the subsequent words were lost as Osthryth covered his mouth with hers. It felt like a second, but at the same time, a thousand years. After all this time, she could not still account that could, would marry. She loved Finan, always had done, since she had glimpsed him serving her brother honourably, unquestioningly. How he had fought with his conscience to see her, how he had trod a line between service to Uhtred and desire for Osthryth.
"I spoke to the king," he said when they broke away. "You can remain at Berric, as the warrior told you."
"Aeswi," Osthryth said.
"Aeswi," he repeated. "I know your dream is to farm barley." Osthryth grinned, as she nudged him in the ribs.
"There is nothing better than barley," she quipped, then added, "It is a a fine living for Finan Beag; he may not make a warrior," Osthryth confided.
"Give him to me; I will make him so," Finan told her, firmly.
"He can choose, Finan, it us up to him. He has not gone through the trials and difficulties we have; he does not know a lot of the world."
"Then, by God, you should be teaching him," Finan told her, his face stern. Osthryth shook her head.
"Not his mother," she told Finan, thinking of the failed attempts she had had. He had thrived better with Aeswi and Feilim. "Boys taught by mothers grow up strangely. Can you imagine anything more demeaning?" Osthryth added. "That is why it is difficult with Constantine: our relationship as prince and companion was difficult enough. He has adopted him, in a fashion." The brief look on Finan's face, made Osthryth think she should not have said this. But young Finan followed everything Aedre did. Her thoughts were interrupted when Finan put his arms around her.
"I remember kissing you in Winchester, I remember Uhtred being such an - arseling!" he told her, quietly, near her ear. "I knew I loved you then, I wanted to - " he kissed her - "Kiss you."
"And Uhtred?" Osthryth asked. She had to know.
"What of him?"
"Does he see Finan beag as a threat? He did away with his last heir," she added, seeing his face.
"Our son is no threat to Bebbbanburg," Finan assured her.
"He's more of a threat to Aedre, the way he tails round after her," Osthryth told him.
"And she is Beocca andThyra's daughter," mused Finan, stroking Osthryth's hair. "Something good happened there, in amongst the hatred and the anger and the flames," he told her.
"Constantine adores her; he's spoiled her, far more than he ever did with his own two daughters. He indulges her in painting, in art, in language, all at the monastery. Finan beag went with her, spent a lot of time there."
"There's something to be said for a literate warrior," Finan told her.
"Lady wife of the late Ceinid Ui Alpin," Oengus called officiously, across the grounds. Osthryth felt her face pink, for she should not be in such close proximity of her betrothed before they were married, and she stepped from Finan, looking towards him. Aeswi was with him and they were striding towards her.
"Abbot Feargus has seen clear to it that a room has been made ready for you," Aeswi told her, and she nodded a goodbye to Finan, next to whom Oengus stood, hand on sword hilt. Finan, nevertheless made to step to Osthryth, but the general pulled out his sword and held it out to Finan.
"It is only right and proper, Ulsterman," he growled, and Osthryth turned reluctantly, Aeswi accompanying her, into the monastery. Yes, it was the same room that she and Aeswi had once shared when he had met her trying to come north to Dunnottar, and yes, it was the same Feargus who had been with her, with Finnolai and Taghd when they went to Eireann, to Mael Muire, with Constantine and Domhnall.
"It is so good to see you!" Abbot Feargus declared, his simple manner concealing his clear delight at meeting his comrade again. "Aeswi," he greeted, and shook Constantine's spy's hand. His hair was the same red as a cooling fire, just as Osthryth remembered, and his love of food was beginning to show on his waistline. They clearly knew one another too, whch perhaps wasn't too surprising, for Finnolai was now Abbot Findlaith at Caer Ligualid, and also Aeswi's younger brother.
The evening slipped away, and morning came quickly, and they were soon riding north, Oengus keeping Osthryth away from Finan at the front of the column, Finan following behind. They were to marry, Osthryth reminded herself, Osthryth, to the man she loved, and had loved for so long, and with both Uhtred's and Constantine's consent. Osthryth considered that she was truly was the happiest person alive.
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Two figures ran across the ground from the gate of the castle as the warriors approached. One of them, a girl with hair the colour of the burnished copper was easily recognisable to Osthryth as Aedre - the other had to be Finan beag. He grinned at the warriors, who all gave him faux stony expressions and giggled at the joke. But then his face burst like the first rays of sunlight when he saw Osthryth who leaned over and pulled him onto the saddle in front of her.
"What has Glymrie been feeding you, you've grown so much!" Osthryth exclaimed, and Aedre walked beside her, holding the rein as they neared Dunnottar's gate.
"You have been keeping well?" Osthryth asked Aedre, as Aeswi took the horse, helping Finan beag down from the saddle while Osthryth slid off herself.
"Well," Aedre nodded. "So you came at last to be married," she told her mother, and she saw a strange sight on Osthryth's face as she blushed. "He has been here for a month, while Athair tried to get you to come," she added, a slightly injured tone to her voice, as if Aedre herself had been personally slighted, which she might well have felt, Osthryth considered.
And the smile Finan gave to her would be the last she would see until tomorrow, or so whenever it was that Constantine determined the marriage to be, and she hoped that the warriors would give him a reasonable welcome - Aeswi would, Osthryth was sure. Young Finan had stood by his mother, shying into her arm when he saw the warrior he remembered that he had been introduced to at Corbridge, and had been at Dunnottar for some time. He was confused, because his mother had told him that this man was his "athair", when yet he knew that the king was his "athair".
They walked across the courtyard to the side gate that led to the inner area of the living quarters. The tower in which young Finan was born was there, still, and Osthryth looked up at it. She would stay there, she thought, she did not want the "Calling of the Bride" and the "Bedding Ceremony" or anything else unnecessary, unless Constantine insisted.
"I was at Ceinid's farm," Osthryth told her. "They needed their lord, and when they could not have their lord, they had to make do with me. I did request you both come to live with me for a time," she added. This wasn't strictly true, but it did cause Aedre's annoyed expression to dissipate.
"It is lovely country," Osthryth added, "Close to where your grandfather Ragnar Ravnsson chose for his land." Aedre rolled her eyes, sensing another rendition of her immediate ancestor's life story. "And, of course, my brother Uhtred took Bebbanburg."
"Did he, at last," Aedre mused. Osthryth frowned.
"What do you mean, "at last"?" she asked. "I might very well have challenged for it - in fact I did challenge for it," she added.
"So what stopped you from getting it?" That was her son, who was now too big, really, to be picked up, but Osthryth did it any way. Young Finan laughed.
"Because I had no army," she told her son, but Aedre gave her a knowing smile.
"No army, and even if you had, would you really have opposed your brother?"
"You ask too many questions, for a betrothed young lady," Osthryth told her adopted daughter, and she saw Aedre give a blush of her own.
"He is fighting in Eireann, but Athair says that he will come soon. And yes, I do still want to marry him," she told Osthryth. They got to the door of the tower room and Aedre opened the door. Young Finan ran in and made straight to the wooden toys that someone had carefully made for him, and he went to the animals and began to rearrange them.
"Aeswi, the captain," Aedre told her, when Osthryth asked. "He has a good talent, don't you think?" She held up one of the figures, carved in oak, and it was unmistakeably a deer. "He has done a whole ark, of Noah," she told her mother. "It is beautiful, is it not?"
Indeed it was; Aeswi had more than a good talent, Osthryth considered, it was a fine talent, and she made a note to herself to ask him how he had learned to carve so delicately.
"And when is the wedding to be?" Aedre asked. Osthryth shook her head.
"I must speak to Constantine first," she told her daughter. She glanced to the back of the door, where the dress that Ealasaid and Aedre had arranged for her for her marriage to Ceinid hung. Aedre followed her gaze.
"Ealasaid said she could alter it, dye it if there was time, but -" But Osthryth held up her hand.
"No dresses," she told Aedre. "Keep it for your own wedding, if you will, but I can never wear this again.
"There will be no time to make another," Aedre told her. Osthryth stared at her daughter.
"I will not wear one, then," she told her. "I will marry in the clothes I have, and - "
"But Mhathair!" Aedre declared, horrified. "You are going to be married!"
"For the fourth time in my life," Osthryth told her. "And the last time." She sighed, and looked to young Finan, who was busy filing the animals into the ark the requisite two at a time. "If I have to come in wearing a stable cloak, I will, but I will never wear the dress I wore when I married Ceinid, never!"
And with the impulse that had been brewing since she had begun fighting Constantine's demand she come to Dunnottar, Osthryth pulled the dress from its hook and then threw it into the fire, whereupon its fine cotton threads began to curl and burn in the hearth.
"Mhathair!" Aedre cried, shocked at the destruction of such a beautiful garment. And then she saw Osthryth turn. "Where are you going?"
"To the chapel, to pray for my sins," Osthryth told her. "And I will wear what I stand up in to meet the man I love, if necessary. For a wedding is not a marriage, Aedre, remember that."
And with one swift kiss to young Finan's cheek, that was where Osthryth made her way, pushing open the wooden door and walking in the gloom, lit only by dull, tallow candles, to the altar. She laid down Buaidh and Taghd's seax, and the sgian, the sharp, pointed knife she kept strapped to her ankle. Osthryth bent her head, thoughts ungodly first filling her mind.
It was the Morrigan she had been battling, since she had got back from Bebbanburg, the Great Queen of the Sidhe, who had been tormenting her, trying to drive her away from Berric, a force which Osthryth had been resisting so much until just then. Let the fibres quench her eagerness for a time, she thought, as the dress burned.
"I love him," Osthryth murmured, her hands clasped in prayer. And the pressurised feeling that surrounded her suddenly died away. Whatever she had done, the Morrigan was satisfied. Now to the Christian god, her god and the saints, and Osthryth ran through the Christian story in her mind, of Jesus's life and betrayal, his death and resurrection. She thought of how this teaching had reached Britain, first to the Irish, Cornish and Welsh, Hywel's people, and had crossed the sea with ColmCille to Iona, and brought to the Holy Island of Lindisfarne by Aidan at the request of her ancestor, Oswald, King of Bernicia.
How Augustine began a mission through which Edwin, Oswald's uncle, King of Deria and mortal enemy, who was crowned at Ad Gefrin, the ancient Briton hill fort not far from Bebbanburg, in the Cheviots, and was converted by Saint Paulinus. How Edwin had been first to forge a Northumbria which reached from the Forth to the Humber, the biggest of the Heptarcy named by Bede.
And how Oswy, Osthryth's direct ancestor, had had to choose between the churches, the Irish of Oswald and the Augustine through Eanflead, his Kentish wife.
"Because Saint Peter is the holder of the key to heaven," Oswy had concluded, "I must defer to the Augustine, the Roman church."
But few hadn't - Alba certainly hadn't, and nor had many in Northumbria. That, and layers of other difference had caused the lines to be drawn to separate the tribes. But of all this, Osthryth remembered, that she must be more like God, more giving, less impulsive. Let them dress her in, well, a dress tomorrow, let them have the service as they wanted it.
All Osthryth wanted was her name and Finan's name recorded as being married in the Culdees ledger, as had hers and Ceinid's been. All could see, then, that she was his true wife, and he was her true husband.
And, if Finan meant what he said, that she could return to Berric, rather than be lodged with him as his wife in Bebbanburg, then she could be contented serving God by serving his people, as their lady.
Osthryth did not hear the chapel door open behind her, nor light footsteps cross the flagstones, nor the figure beside her. It was only when Constantine knelt beside her and folded his own hands in prayer that Osthryth realised she was not alone.
When he had finished his own prayers, Constantine got to his feet and held out a hand. Osthryth took it, and he led her to the back of the chapel.
"Come, sit with me," he asked her, and Osthryth realised he was wearing his crown, the bronze glittered in the dim candlelight, and his blue cloak. Domhnall's cloak. And suddenly, the weight of her time in Alba came to her senses like a wave on an angry sea. She had been beside Constantine for so long, beside Domhnall, and connected to dearly to Alba. It was no wonder that Finan had found hi way to the King of Alba to discuss with him a marriage proposal.
"Do you wish to marry the Ulaid warrior?" he asked her, his face sober, serious. "I must ask, Osthryth. It is not a demand being made on you?" Osthryth turned to him in amazement.
"No," she told him, "Indeed not. I do wish to marry Finan Ui Conchobar, and it is indeed my will to do so."
"After everything? After Doire?" And this was the whiny Constantine, back again before her, not happy with a straight answer because it was not the answer he wanted.
"I did not know it was him, I - "
"You may stay at the farm," Constantine interrupted her, holding up a hand. "I understand you have grown attached to the people and they to you. It is good to have a prosperous land in my kingdom."
Your kingdom, Osthryth thought, and yes, when the tithes are sent, and I can overlook Bebbanburg's lands.
"You know, I believed you, and my other cousin..." Constantine trailed off.
"Domnall?" Osthryth nearly laughed. But then reminded herself that she did have a desire for him when she was much younger, and he was in exile for the first time, and he had become humbler.
"Where is he now?"
"On his way to Eireann, to aid Niall," Constantine told her. Then a distant, a formal look came to his eyes. "But, no," he continued, shaking his head. "The Conchobar are cousins of my grandfather, of course. And he was enslaved, which I can now see has changed him. He is almost spiritual, if not Godly."
"I have seen him pray," Osthryth told him. "He is Godly; he wears Ethne's silver crucifix, which she hid when she was enslaved." At the name, Constantine flinched. At the time, Osthryth did not think he knew about the enslavements. But maybe he did; maybe he knew about Finnolai. "Perhaps he should give it back to Domnall, to give him some peace?"
But Constantine did not pick at Osthryth's accusatory suggestion: Domnall was not at peace, whatever anyone said to the contrary. And it was only then that she realised that she had not yet seen Domnall, usually the first at the guard gate.
"I have one condition, on your marriage, on your management of the Berric farmlands," Constantine told her. "You must remain as a spy to me, ride the country as I see fit, garner intelligence."
It was only to be expected. Osthryth knew she had been valuable over the years. But she had a condition of her own.
"Constantine," she began, "You will not make me use my husband as a means of intelligence. My marriage will be just that, and you will not come between us.
In the peace, in the quiet of the chapel, neither of them said anything else for a moment. There was no point in Constantine tryng to wave off Osthryth's assertion that he had been considering it, for they both knew that he had ego enough to assume she would do this.
"When you have finished your prayers," Constantine told her, getting to his feet, "You are to be locked away, and called in the morning." And with that, the King of Alba swept out of the chapel, leaving Osthryth alone.
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And when Osthryth had finished praying, she realised she had been in the place of worship since the afternoon before until sunrise on the day she was to be married. Hurrying across the courtyard, in the proto-light of day, aware that drunken singing was coming from the armoury room, she took the steps two at a time, her weaponry in her hands.
"Where have you been?" asked a tired Aedre, who had slept in her own bed, and young Finan in his, having dropped off waiting for Osthryth to return.
"In prayer," she told Aedre, weakly.
"All night?" the young woman asked. "Never mind now, Ealasaid has made you a dress." Her tone suggested she was waiting for Osthryth to express her gratitude. "And some water," she added.
"I am grateful," Osthryth told her, looking at the undyed cloth that had been used to make it. No embroidery, no fanciness. It was perfect, and Osthryth knew she would be able to strap on Buaidh and Taghd's seax, and her sgian.
"I thought you might have gone back to Berric, and changed your mind." Aedre's tone sounded a little hopeful.
"No," Osthryth told her, then yawned.
"Sleep," Aedre encouraged, taking on the mothering role, and fussing Osthryth as if she were the errant child staying out all night. "We will leave you now. Athair will come for you and take you to your marriage," she told Osthryth, matter-of-factly.
"Where are we going?" grumbled young Finan, resister of an early morning rise.
"To Ealasaid's spare room, where we should have been last night," Aedre told him. Young Finan blinked and then jumped onto his bed reaching up for Osthryth. She let him jump into her arms and cuddle her.
"You will be married again," young Finan told her, and Osthryth nodded, kissing him on the forehead.
"Oh, before I go," young Aedre told her mother, "Let me at least neaten your hair." She used a comb which she got out of the drawer of the table near the window. Once, it held binding cloths and strips to use around young Finan's bottom end when he was first born. Now Aedre was using it for her own bits and pieces, and she glimped more ribbon, and what looked like a string of pearls.
"Mhathair!" Aedre scolded, when she found a section much shorter than the other, and combed through her hair again, over the straggly parts, tying it at the nape of her neck with a ribbon. Osthryth did not exactly cut it herself, but did lop bits off when threy were in the way, especially in battle.
And then, when door was closed, and she heard the key turn in the lock, Osthryth lay down on the bed and closed her eyes.
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Constantine dismissed Dubhcan and Cellach, who had volunteered to guard Osthryth for the night, when he had got to the top of the stone steps and relieved his son of the key.
When he knew they were at the bottom of the tower, the King of Alba unlocked the door and entered. How long had he come here? How many times? When she was locked away in confinement after the birth of their son - nothing anyone could say would make him admit it in his own mind that young Finan was his own - and he had climbed the outside of the tower to see her?
She was asleep now, dressed in the garment Ealasaid had made for her, and Constantine stood at her bedside, looking over her body as it moved gently as she breathed. He loved the shape of her, how she had developed from a body that was straight up and down, to curves at the hips, and of course, bigger tits. He liked finding out the responses he got when holding her breasts, especially her nipples, which caused her to writhe on top of him, bringing him on.
But that was nothing to when he had discovered the bumps in her cunt, and how to rub them. That was what he used when he wanted to get her quickly in the mood. Rarely, Osthryth would resist, but he had grown much stronger than her, and she never resisted long.
He would think about her body later, Constantine thought, and the pleasures he had had from it when he had taken her. But he had had her, he thought, bitterly, the Ulaid bastard she had discovered at the side of her brother.
Constantine had nodded to the Ulaid bastard that evening, and let Oengus slip out that Osthryth had spent the night praying in the chapel. Osthryth was not, as a rule, religious, so it might well have got him worried. But he seemed none the worse for a drinking session organised by Aeswi at the alehouse where Constantine knew that Osthryth had gone when she had married Ceinid.
He had seen the man, in clean breeches, shirt and jacket, even new boots - however had Aeswi managed it? Yet, it was for Osthryth, and if she needed him so she could stay at Berric, then it would have to do. He could always have him run through, or his throat cut in his sleep if he got too angry about the thought of his cock inside her.
Constantine nudged her awake.
"Your intended is waiting for you," he told her, and waited for Osthryth to get to her feet, wash her hands and face, and then fasten her ironware around herself. A true warrior lady.
"I call the Lady Osthryth to her wedding!" Constantine called, from out of the window. From the courtyard, a cheer went up, and he led the way out of the tower and down, becoming the beginning of the procession that was filled by the castle's occupants, following them to the chapel.
At the altar, Finan stood, and beside him, Aeswi. He was dressed in a clean set of warrior clothes which Aeswi had, no doubt, found for him. But Osthryth did not care about that at all. Never in her mind, after everything they had been through, did she ever believe she and Finan would marry. Even if they had, and Osthryth had accepted a position in Uhtred's household, as all wives did, it would be impossible, the animosity between her and her brother.
"I bind your hands as a sign of your union," the priest told them, first in Gaelish and then in Anglish. And that was all that Osthryth remembered, until she was sitting beside Finan in the hall, and music was beginning on the pipes, and people were dancing, and singing.
Then, they left, and returned to Osthryth's room, being first greeted by Aedre and young Finan, who kissed his mother copiously, but withdrew from Finan, only to bow his head to his father after urges from both Osthryth and Aedre.
Osthryth took the key, for she had extracted a promise from Aeswi, lubricated with a bag of silver for the warriors to continue their celebrations with him at the alehouse, that there would be no bedding ceremony.
When at last they were together, Osthryth sat on the side of the bed, Finan next to her.
"Sometimes, just thinking about the day you and would marry, would get me through a bad day," he told Osthryth.
And then they waited no longer. Finan of the Ulaid, and Osthryth, once Lackland, were married.
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Below, in the courtyard, a man was admitted in throught he gates. He saw the merriment, and the warriors in full intoxication, and his king outside, standing on the cobbles, looking up at the tower. He turned to look at the man. It was Domnall.
"I could not get past the rocks at Fortriu," he told Constantine. After sending half his ships back with the wounded, Domnall had taken the other half of the Alba navy to respond to the call for aid that Donnchada mac Flann had made in a letter to Constantine.
"Norse pirates. It was as if it were planned, and we were being ambushed." Domnall hung his head a little, and then looked at the hall. "What's this?" he asked.
"Come," Constantine told him. "Unless you are in need of immediate refreshment and rest?" Domnall shook his head, and instead, accompanied Constantine away from the hall and the tower, and to the battlements.
"What are we doing?" Domnall asked him, as they walked on Dunnottar's walls.
"Keeping me away from the tower," he told his cousin. Domnall looked back towards it. A light shone in Aedre's and Finan beag's room.
"Why?"
"You will stop me from killing the Ulaid bastard, and taking Osthryth myself." Domnall stopped walking. And then Constantine told him about Finan coming to ask for Osthryth's hand, and getting her back from Berric, and then their wedding.
"How did you leave it with Niall?" Constantine asked, keen to change the subject.
"A reprieve," Domnall told him. "We intercepted a letter meant for you - I thought we might be able to cut down the lochs and cross country there, end up at the western isles, somehow. But it was not to be. There has been few attacks. Niall has gone down up to Donnchada to discuss a strategy. With your permission, I will make a fresh attempt to reach Eireann, cross by foot to Glaschu, for instance, and commission ships from Dyfnwal - there are many build on the Clyde."
"You have it," Constantine told him. "Take who we can spare." He shook his head. "Donnchada would do well to follow his father's strategy: no mercy and absolute control. It is the only way; the Norse will spot weakness."
"Yet they know you court Anlaf Guthfrithson," Domnall added. Anlaf was busy co-ordinating the attacks on the Irish.
"It could never have been hidden, depsite the men we send west, the skill of Owain, thanks to Oengus and Feilim's hard work." Constantine paused, and looked out to the landscape, looking east, to where Domhnall's king stone had been placed, at Stirling, and cast his eyes further west still. "Dyfnwal is vulnerable, Dal Riata is vulnerable as are all the islands and inlets. Even the original settlers he allowed to inhabit the western isles are being targeted by new Norse invaders."
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And after, when the castle had settled down, and dawn was only hours away, Finan stroked Osthryth's hair.
"War," Finan had replied, when she asked what was next. "It is the only logical thing that follows peace." It was a reply that Osthryth had expected. And then the conversation turned to young Finan.
"He tells me he is interested in a kitchenmaid who had caught his eye," Finan told her.
"He's eight!" Osthryth has protested.
And as Gaelish-sounding as your Pictish king," Finan had pointed out.
"He's your son," Osthryth had said, but the look on Finan's face was enough for Osthryth to know that there was no doubt in her husband's mind.
"And Aedre?" Finan kissed her lips, and it took several minutes to continue the conversation. "Uhtred asks after her." And Osthryth thought of her face, Aedre Beoccasdottir was as wise as her father and as beautiful as her mother, long copper-red hair spilling down her back, her pale skin almost white, and intense blue eyes.
Osthryth had pulled Thyra from her home on the day of King Alfred's funeral, set on fire at revenge for her Danish heritage. Ula, the pagan healer could not save her but birthed the little girl Aedre who Osthryth had suckled, leaving Wessex for Dunnottar, and Constantine. Osthryth stroked Finan's chest, her heart racing again with her happiness at their marriage.
"How long was it that you knew who I was?" Osthryth asked, as dawn arrived. "That I was the girl you and your brother had met on the beach?"
"When you said you had been Constantine's companion; before you left," Finan told her. He held her close, then kissed her. "I would like to say it wasn't me, but it was, and I was a child, and I am sorry."
"It can't be undone. That helped me grow stronger. I would have just been Constantine's whore; dead by now, I shouldn't wonder."
"And Aedre? Uhtred would like to know, I think."
"Constantine adopted her, or at least, kept her as I gave him silver for her. She reads at the monastery. He believes she will turn to God."
"And you believe?" Finan prompted. Osthryth sat up on her elbow.
"She will turn to her mother's gods. Constantine is blind to that child; he loves her more than his own children."
And the conversation turned to the practical. They were married, yes, but what kind of life were they to have? Osthryth was sworn to the King of Alba; Alba was sworn against Northumbria, and, by extension Uhtred. By further extension, then, to her own husband. Yet she was Lackland - she had no land of her own, though Constantine had told her she could continue with the farms at Berric. Though they were married, Osthryth and Finan had nothing which they could call their own.
"When you leave for Berric, I will come with you. I am to be its lord," he told her. Osthryth sat up, amazed.
"I never knew - "
"He didn't tell you?" Finan declared, giving a "ha!" of laughter. "Berric is to be yours, Osthryth, on the occasion of our marriage. You are to manage it, on the understanding I return to Uhtred, which was always the arrangement."
Of course, Osthryth told herself, feeling a fool at the end of it all. Another tie to Alba now, for if the land was hers, she was a lady of Alba, and by extension, Finan was a lord, a mormaer. He could, technically, be called to fight for Constantine.
"You are laughing, what's funny?" Finan asked.
"You are a mormaer of Alba," Osthryth told him, and waited for the implication to dawn.
"That - bastard!" Finan exclaimed, but then laughed, and pulled Osthryth close. "But, if I am not in Alba, he cannot call me, nor if I am fulfulling my prior oath, to the Lord Uhtred, in Bebbanburg, which is very clearly in - " Finan broke off. "Oh dear," he concluded, shaking his head. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear." He glanced to the window and then back to Osthryth, shaking his head.
"What?" Osthryth knew "What", but she wanted Finan to say it anyway. A gust of wind blew past the tower.
"Uhtred is not going to like this one bit, after giving consent to marry you in the first place." Now, it was Osthryth's turn to be shocked.
"What?" Finan turned to look at her soon-to-be outraged face.
"When I sought the king's permission to marry you, he said it was not a matter for him and had I sought consent from your brother."
"Consent...? From Uhtred? As your liege lord, you mean, for permission to leave his service temporarily...?"
"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear," Finan repeated slowly And when Osthryth did not reply, as she thought about Uhtred telling Finan he could marry her, he added briskly, "So, come on then, better get up and packed, if we are going to make it to our farm's hall tomorrow." And he whipped the covers off Osthryth's naked body, examining all of her features carefully with a grin. Then, he pulled her close, and gave Osthryth a knee-melting kiss.
"I must return," Finan told her, after he had humped Osthryth again. "To Uhtred. After we have gone back to the farm."
"It is good," Osthryth told him. "I can farm, you can visit. Constantine is bringing Finan beag and Aedre soon."
"You do not expect me to stay?" Finan asked.
"I would have liked you to stay, of course I would," Osthryth told Finan, her husband, with a grin. "But I do not wish to have my brother at my threshold demanding I return you. It would frighten the livestock."
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There was a commotion down in the courtyard, when Finan and Osthryth put in an appearance. Two riders seemed to be vying with one another to see the king. From what Osthryth could see, Constantine was nowhere in sight. Neither were any mormaers, save Finan, and he would not know where the king was.
"I have come for the king," one rider, drenched in sweat, told the growing crowd. "King Dyfnwal instructed me to put this into the king's hand myself!"
"And I have been sailing for a week!" the other man protested. He was short, with the long black hair of the Irish, and he recoiled a little when he saw Finan. "I have come from Eireann, and - "
"Cairan, I can deal with this," a voice came from behind the crowd, which parted. Domnall, weary-eyed and pale, looked to the man. He too noticed Osthryth and Finan, and as he passed, he said, "Congratulations, Osrit," and took her forearm, giving it a brief squeeze in his hand. He then looked over to Finan, narrowing his eyes. "Ulaid," he nodded.
"Ailech," Finan replied. But Domnall had not finished.
"If you do anything that causes her harm, Ulaid," Domnall continued. It could have been the start of light-hearted humour, as sometimes happened in those circumstances, but Osthryth saw steel in Domnall s pale blue eyes.
"She will not be far away, she will be in Berric," Finan told him.
"Which is very close to Bebbanburg," Domnall pointed out, his voice still low, but still threatening. "Then, I will give your brother will something to fear!"
Oh no, thought Osthryth, there's going to be swords drawn at this rate. But the call for their admiral got Domnall's attention and he moved to Ciaran and put an arm around his shoulder and moving him away towards the hall.
"I still need to see King Constantine!" demanded the first messenger. "Will someone go to find him?"
"No need," came Constantine's voice. "What is the urgency?" And the man thrust the message directly into the king's hand.
"An invasion! Into Strathclyde!" the man declared. "It was too great a number - "
But he was interrupted by a cry, a naked scream of anguish. Domnall was staring at the other message. Osthryth broke from Finan's embrace and hurried to him. He was too distressed to speak, and was still staring at the parchment.
It read, "Dawn raid, beginning Bread month. Attack by Norse at Tara. Nine kings dead." And it listed, amongst others, Niall Glundubh and Donnchada mac Flann.
"Dead," Domnall managed, looking away from Osthryth, and he strode away from the courtyard, his head low. "I failed them," he added, in a voice not low enough for Osthryth to miss. She read the letter again, before taking it from the messenger's hand and striding over to Constantine.
But he already had one in his own hand, the one from Dyfnwal. Into the other, she placed the one from Eireann, and read the one from Strathclyde.
"Treachery!" Constantine declared, not looking at Osthryth, not looking at anyone. And then he read the one from Ireland. "Treachery." He shook his head.
"My people, I have to report some terrible news. Our kin, in Eireann, are dead, killed by one to whom I thought was our ally." At the bottom, Osthryth saw the final part of the message. The name of the leader who had organised the attack on Eireann and killed so many nobles was there written.
"Anlaf Guthfrithson has killed not only the High King," Constantine told them, "But the sub-kings, those of Ailech, of Ulaid, of Midhe, of Leinster." He inhaled, and gained his composure, as Osthryth heard a gasp from behind her. She looked, and saw Aedre, her face growing pale. It could only be because she had heard Anlaf's name.
"And, of the tripartite alliance, which we took so much time and effort to broker, between Wessex and its vassal Mercia, Northumbria and Alba, it is broken. Edward of Wessex has invaded over the border of Cumbraland. He had declared himsef overlord of Strathclyde and of York and over West Wales princes."
Rex Anglolorum, Osthryth thought, the words taking her back to a time and a place nearly forty years before. To Alfred's great hall, and to the first time she had heard the title. It meant king of the Angles and the Saxons. Edward had achieved that, albeit with Aethelstan, his son, as lord of Mercia.
But now, he wanted more, much more. By invading Stathclyde, as well as Eoferwic and Cymru, Hywel's newly-created land, he was one more step towards it, Edward was declaring himself Rex Brittanium, king of the island of Britain.
So they would soon be at war, as Finan had told her would come. For the next kingdom after Strathclyde, in order to achieve Rex Brittanium, Osthryth reasoned, could only be Alba.