Summer 920, Berric
It was longer than a week that Finan stayed with Osthryth at the farm. In that time, apart from their honeymoon on their own land, in their own bed, they visited every landsman, every farmer, every alewife, evert brewer. They knew their lord and lady by the time Finan told her he had stayed away from Bebbanburg long enough.
Osthryth had found herself awake before dawn that morning, mulling over the prospect of him being out of her life. She loved Finan in a way that she loved no-one else. When they were together it was like the world did not exist, it was just them, whether having sex, or in each other's arms. They got one another, they liked one another. Finan made Osthryth feel she wanted to be her best, do her best in everything and never do anything to disappoint him. When he was gone, she knew it may be a long time until she saw him again.
It was only when his hand went gently to her hair that Osthryth realised her husband was awake and she let him run his fingers through her hair.
"I do like this," he told Osthryth,taking the pearl jewel from her hair.
"It came from the river here," Osthryth told him. "From the Tuide. He - " Osthryth broke off. It had been a long time since she had thought of Eirik Thurgilson.
"I know who have this to you; I was there, with Uhtred, when I heard you tell the Lady Aethelflaed." He clipped it back into her hair and Osthryth moved her hand to touch it. Such a long time ago. Sometimes she forgot she had it at all.
"My jewel, my seax, my sword," she told Finan, matter-of-factly. "Our land. All belonged to someone else, once." He put his arm out to Osthryth and she nestled close to his chest, breasts close to his chest, Finan's hand supporting her back.
No, not supporting. Her husband was tracing his finger down from her collar bone to her chest.
"This is yours," he told her, and then drew back, giving Osthryth his serious face. "Is there any point asking you to stay here, keep out of danger?" She smiled.
"There is plenty of danger here, just last week I lost two men who here trying to rescue their flock who had wandered down into marshy land."
"I mean..." His voice tailed off, and instead, Finan used his mouth to kiss her collar bone, and work his way down her arm. He meant whatever Cobstantine had asked her to do.
"It isn't a great deal, considering the land I now have," Osthryth told him. Finan stopped and looked at her seriously.
"It is always a great deal where Constantine is concerned, it is never a fair deal. Just...promise me you will try to stay safe," he conceded. It was not an instruction, it was not a command.
"I will promise to try," Osthryth told him. And then they were together again, kissing, stroking, bringing happiness to one another.
"Is Eadith enjoying being Bebbanburg 's lady?" Osthryth asked, when she once again lay in FInan's arms. The brief seconds silence was telling. Finan turned, and looked at Osthryth, as if to work out whether she was being straight, or something else. He decided on the "straight".
"She is out neighbour you should pay a call."
And Osthryth seriously considered it as she rode with her husband to the border of their land. To the south east the land turned up to the high hills of the middle country, that disputed land between Bernicia and Rheged, or Northumbia and Pictland, and Cumbraland and Strathclyde. What would Eadith say if she turned up at Bebbanburg's gates? What would Uhtred say, come to that.
The line stopped at the forest edge. Beyond it, Bebbanburg's lands, up to the forest, in line with the Holy Island.
"I must leave you here," Finan told Osthryth, though God knows I would have you with me." He glanced south east, to Uhtred's fortress, arrogantly claiming the small promontary of land on the corner of the north east's sea-facing coast and Lindisfarne. "Unless, you would come with me?" He shared a twinkle.
"What?" Osthryth replied, reaching over to Finan's hand and placing her own over it. "Invited to Bebbanburg and to see my brother? He's only just getting comfortable; I'd hate to be the cause of - "
"You'd be the cause of nothing," Finan told her, then pulled her close, one hand on her back, the other at her face, bringing his lips to hers. Then he pulled back, turning his horse around, so that it faced the North road.
"Tha gaol agam ort," he told her, a sorrowful look in his eye.
"Tha gaol agam ort, Finan Mor," Osthryth replied, and she waited, right on their boundary, and watched him ride off, to her brother, to be by his side. Finan the landowner, and Uhtred's brother-in-law. Maybe it would have been amusing to walk into Bebbanburg with her husband, just to see the look on his face.
But there was no routine to be had that afternoon. Visitors were coming, an early alert from Caltigar, who had ridden round to the farm's hall to let Osthryth know. This was how it was with the land manager's son, and Osthryth appreciated his loyalty. She rewarded him with silver, and hoped that he was saving it for something, an army position, for he was good with a sword, or towards land, or a fishing boat.
So Osthryth was not as surprised as she might have been when, coming to her front door, seven riders. What she was not expecting were the guests, although she did feel disappointed for a moment because her heart had told her that it might have been Finan.
"I am glad to see my land being cared for, managed well," Constantine told her, as Osthryth welcomed the King of Alba into her hall. He was with Aedre, young Finan beside him. They had ridden with four guards, one of them Aeswi, the other Oengus, and two younger guards who Osthryth recognised from Dunnottar.
"Welcome, your Grace," Osthryth told him. She had at least alerted Rhia and she and Osthryth had tidied the hall, but it was no where near fit for a visit by a king, for she had not been prepared. When she said this, Constantine waved his arm.
"It is a mere visit, a few days," he told her. "There is a matter I need to discuss."
When Osthryth had shown Aedre and young Finan the farm, with its animals, and the path that led to the river, Constantine behind them, she returned and offered them the food that the remarkable young kitchen woman had managed to produce and spread across the hall's table. Beside the back door, Osthryth noticed Caltigar, who exchanged some nervous looks with Rhia - clearly the young man had helped her prepare everything. He had also spied Oengus, who had waited with Aeswi in the hall, and gave the man some distrusting looks.
Good, thought Osthryth, she would be leaving the farm in good hands. For that was what Constantine would want, she thought, he would want her to spy. So Osthryth took the time to be hostess for once, and listen to the king, and hear what he wanted.
"Go, take young Finan into the orchard," Osthryth encouraged Caltigar, as a hot fruit pudding dish had been served and stomachs were full. "It is beautiful at this time of year."
Young Finan gave the young farm manager a beaming smile as the easy-going Caltigar told him of all the animals the farm possessed, and the plants and flowers that were growing. "What kinds of trees do you have at Dunnottar?" he asked, and this delighted young Finan, who liked trees, not to look at or know the species, but to climb, as Ildubh used to do. Cellach had had to rescue him from a few, but young FInan was still undaunted.
"Shall we walk in the orchard, your Grace?" Osthryth asked. "Or the river?" The King of Alba chose the river, which is just as well, for she was comforted by the fishing boats out at sea. Being so close to Constantine felt, as it had felt when she had been married to Ceinid, awkward, uncomfortable. Many,many social barriers were now in place, they were far from what they were, when he was the scared child of the King of the Picts, and she was an urchin from Seahuises washed up accidentally on the banks of the river Forth.
"Strathclyde is stable," Constantine told Osthryth. "Dyfnwal is unwell."
"Unwell?" Osthryth echoed.
"Owain has returned to be with his father. We do believe that he will be King Owain in fue course."
"So that was why Edward took the chance." It wasn't a question: Edward of Wessex, her former lover and King of the Wessex, Mercia and, of late, Northumbria, was as shrewd as his father and knew exactly what to do when news came of the ailing Dyfnwal.
"He has retreated over the border back into Cumbraland, but I suspect he is waiting until Owain takes the throne, whether he declares for me as Alba or he can be coaxed Ito his overlordship." Osthryth stopped walking and turned to look at her king.
"It is obvious," Osthryth said to him. "He wil remain in Alba. There is no Anglish nor Saxon instinct in him." But Constantine shook his head.
"It depends how well the West Saxons have defended his land from the Norse, Anlaf's Norse," Constantine told her. And Osthryth had to concede this to be true. She made to put a hand on Constantine's shoulder, but then withdrew it, their old gestures feeling so strange to her. She was a arried woman now, lady of this land. There was a line.
"Domnall," Osthryth asked, changing the subject as they turned the low cliff and began to follow, not the river now but the sea. "Tell me how he is." For he was distraught at the loss of so many kinsfolk, as had Osthryth been when she had heard how many Irish nobles had been slain, Gormlaith included, and she often thought about Domnall, and prayed in her mind that he was well.
"He has taken the Trinity and returned to Eireann," Constantine told her. "He feels he needs to help bring stability back to his land."
"Good," Osthryth said, without meaning it. The sadness she felt for him, and for the loss of the Gaels she knew, Mael Muire's family, Constantine's aunt, reshaped itself into sorrow for her own self. He might decide to be king himself to answer the question of unity. She may never see him again.
"And yourself?" Constantine asked. "Was I right to accept Finan Conchobar to the lord of this land?" And Osthryth brightened, leading him round to the path that took them through the land of two of her farmers, one of whom was Munadd, her land keeper.
"I can only say yes," Osthryth said, feeling herself light up with happiness. "He knows little about farming but he knows people, and which people to trust. I feel our marriage will be a successful one."
"In that you will see so little of one another," Constantine quipped. He stopped when he saw people who had come out to see two wanderers on their land, and Osthryth, quite immune to the burdens of the day, enjoyed watching their faces when they discovered one of the interlopers was King Constantine of Alba.
He asked questions of the farmers, but did not trespass too long on their time. "They have work to do, and do not want to waste time talking to me," he told Osthryth.
"No, they will be busy talking to their neighbours about how the king graced their land with his presence. The wife will be off now to her friends to brag that you ate at her table, blessed her livestock, and so on."
They walked in silence for a while, and Osthryth stole a glance or two of Constantine. There were flashes of his father in him now, his demeanour, his manner. King Aed had been fair as well as firm, in the little time she had known him. Constantine would be like that too, with his subjects. With Osthryth, not so sure, and she suspected Finan was right, that the land he had gifted to her, which was an easy gift to him having been Ceinid's, and Ceinid had been Osthryth's husband, would be paid for by Osthryth's hard work in bringing him valuable intelligence.
Her suspicions were confirmed when Constantine stopped at the pack-horse bridge before they crossed the Tuide back to Osthryth's hall, and told her of his fears. Or, at least the fears he wanted her to know.
"There is turmoil in Mercia," he told her. "Aeswi has one of his contacts there, and he tells me there is near-civil war. Aethelstan is still popular, but there is trouble with some factions in the Mercian court that overspilled when the Lady died." By the "Lady", Constantine meant the Lady of the Mercians, Aethelflaed.
"Aefflaed took over, and it is her claim they supported. She represented the opportunity under an independent Mercia, which a good deal of Mercians dream of: life without Wessex overlordship."
"But the other factions support Aethelstan? They don't want independence?"
"I feel, from what I understand," Constantine told her, carefully, "Is that they are happy with the situation of Aethelstan being their lord, separate to his father, which he is at the moment. Wessex also sees Mercia as separate to them too, so the Aethelstan faction value the martial expertise he has brought over all-out independence, which might isolate them, and make Mercia vulnerable to attack from the Norse."
And he wants me to go there, Osthryth thought, as they headed back to Osthryth's immediate farm, nodding in the direction of the orchard, use my links to the Mercian guard to discover what I can.
"I want to know how deep thiss turmoil in Mercia is, and ensure that it does not overspill into Northumbria."
"I cannot guarantee it will not overspill," Osthryth told him, "For as a simple landowner in Alba neither side is my business. But I can bring you intelligence, Osthryth added, enjoying the expression of outrage that had flashed across Constantine's features for a split second. "Harvest is behind us I just ask for guards for my lands,to ward against rievers," her glance went to Bebbanburg, "And grasping neighbours."
"I think you will find your brother us already at Caestre," Constantine told her. "You will not find expansionist ambitions at Bebbanburg to bother your lands, not at the present time, at least." Then, Constantine looked as if going to say something, then turned, and seemed to be looking at the trees.
"I will be returning to Dunnottar tonight," he added, his facr still away from Osthryth, "Oengus with me. Aeswi will bring the children back in a few days after I send the guards you require." He paused, and glanced south, to Bebbanburg. Then he turned to Osthryth, his face a picture of regal serenity. "You should train your own warriors, your young estate boy, for example."
"And when do I find the time, if I am away from the estate?" Osthryth asked. "You know well, my king, that it takes at least a season to even get the trainees ready, I have farmers, not warriors.
"But you could train young boys," Constantine insisted.
"Indeed, to have more than five minutes at home to do that?" she asked him.
"Aeswi will accompany you to Mercia. I will send more guards, and he will bring the children back and meet you at Caestre. I'll send Uunst and some Picts, and you can begin when you come back.
"I'll take Caltigar with me," Osthryth told him, "So he can gain first hand experience." And it did not pass Osthryth by that she was looking forward to being in Mercia again, with Buaidh in her hand, with Finan close by.
The brief thought of her husband was enough to distract Osthryth from Constantine's proximity to her, and that he had scooped up his had in hers, which he then drew to his lips, kissing the back of it.
"My lady," Constantine acknowledged.
"I am not, as you well know, your Grace," Osthryth told him, and the young boy she knew was there before her, having taken more than he should. It was just a kiss of the hand, Osthryth told herself, even though it felt like he had taken his advantage further.
"What do you think Uhtred will choose to do?" Constantine asked her, when he let her hand drop.
"Stay in Bebbanburg," said Osthryth. "He swore to both Aethelflaed, and therefore Mercia, and yet to Edward. Strathclyde appears to be a mistake."
"Edward has, however, extracted Dyfnwal's signature on a document claiming overlordship. Not invasion, and Edward has highlighted the difference. Yet," Constantine added, his eyes narrowing in that well practised defiance that Osthryth knew so well. "He will choose, for he has left and is in Ceastre now."
"Then, Aethelstan," Osthryth said, simply. "He loves the boy like a father does, supported him through the period that Aethelweard sat in Edward's favour. Now that Aelfflaed is gone and Edward has married Eadgufu, Aethelstan is back in favour."
"And the longer there is turmoil in Mercia, the better for the cause of a united Anglo Saxon land," Constantine mused. Then, he reached into his cloak.
"Consider it a wedding gift," he told Osthryth, handing her a scroll of paper. Osthryth opened it, and stared down. The letters shimnered in bright daylight, the ink bright indicating it had been written recently.
"You are giving me the land? Ceinid's land?" He had told her this, of course, but now it was in writing, a document, a rare thing indeed.
"It is mine to give as I wish. It is yours, as I told you," he added, leaning towards Osthryth. "Did you doubt it?"
"It must remain neutral," Osthryth told him. "I have as many Bernicians and Pictlanders working the land.
"It is both Pictland and Bernicia," Constantine confirmed. "As are you." Osthryth glanced at the words again. And then noticed something: the land gift was in her name, her own. No mention of Finan. Then, Constantine straightened up, becoming her king again.
"I thank you for your hospitality, Osthryth," he told her. "No," he added, "I will not stay. The children will return when you ride out. Send word through Aeswi. You, as I can see, are needed here and I will not deprive your people of their lady by making her ride all the way to Dunnottar."
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Three short days later and Osthryth had spent the best time of her life with her children. Aedre, who disliked all things outdoors, had actually enjoyed spending time with some of the young women as they stored and sorted the grains, as they fed the animals and worked in the kitchens preparing preserves from the harvest. Young Finan was in his element in Caltigar's company, following the young man around as he worked on the farm, chopping wood, killing the first of the animals for winter food, having him climb up trees to throw apples down.
It would have been altogether perfect if they were staying, but Osthryth had seen Aeswi prepare the horses and they would be gone, and so would she. The fantasy, however, would only have been complete if Finan had been there, and before he had returned to Bebbanburg, she had discussed having young Finan living with them at the estate.
"Our son," Osthryth told him. And the usually loquatious Finan had not a word to say on the matter.
"Tell me," Osthryth insisted. "Tell me what Uhtred has to say on the matter!" And when he would not, Osthryth sat up and said, "Tell me, Finan Mòr, or I will ask him myself! Now!"
"Looking like that?" Finan replied, examining his wife's nakedness. "You'll give the guards fainting fits before ever they open the gates." And it had been Osthryth's turn to stare and be silent.
"Your brother believes our son to be Constantine's bastard," Finan had told her, though with much reluctance, Osthryth realised.
"We can bring him here," she insisted. But Finan had shaken his head.
"No, he has a better life in Dunnottar with Constantine." Finan seemed to contemplate something. "He lost Ildubh, did he not?"
"Yes," nodded Osthryth. "His younger son drowned. Aedre was heartbroken - they had grown up together."
"He is safe there," Finan had repeated. Why had this come back to Osthryth's mind now? Her impending departure, she was sure.
As she kissed her son, and embraced her daughter, Osthryth watched the party of four, Aeswi and Baldred, a young guard of Oengus's family, she turned and looked at her farm hall. Five of Alba's best guards, including Uunst, were staying there now, until she returned, and would be training up her own guards from the strong, healthy young boys on the farm's estates.
"Which way is Caestre?" Caltigar asked Osthryth, in Pictish. Osthryth turned, and looked south, Bebbanburg finding her eye as it always did.
"South, south-west," she told him, as they began to ride away from Berric. "Tell me, how far have you ever been from home?" Caltigar had to think about this.
"Once, I rode with my father to St. Acha's Headland," he told her, "And once, I rode all the way to Ad Gefrin." Osthryth nodded. The mother of King Oswald - Saint Oswald now, who, thanks to Lord Aethelred, now lay to rest in Gloucester, with the Lady Aethelflaed, her thoughts reminded her, dully. And Acha was Edwin's sister, Oswald's mother. Truly was she in her homeland at Berric.
"Caestre is much further than that," Osthryth told him. "It will take us over a week to reach there."
"And then, what?" Caltigar asked, as they made their way in the direction of Wooler, a town which lay on a road that led to the Wall.
"I find my men," she told him. And bloody well work out the "what" when I get there.