Better than Gold (7 page)

‘My daughter is also a peace-weaver bride, named after her aunt,' he said, and the younger Cyneburgh emerged from amongst her waiting women, also beautifully dressed and escorted by an eager, smiling Prince Beorn.

Both couples who were to marry bowed and curtsied to each other, then dutifully kissed. Egfrid was glad he wasn't old enough to be ordered to marry an enemy bride for the sake of peace. What must they really be feeling?

More
drinks were proffered and accepted and Oswin the Good invited them to a feast.

‘Should not Oswy Iding greet my foster-son first?' Penda asked.

Oswy turned pale and glanced about him, clearly discomforted. Egfrid's mother led him forward to his father, who quickly recovered and kissed him on both cheeks.

‘You've grown,' he said. ‘I…almost didn't know you.'

Egfrid bowed. ‘I am well, Father,' he said curtly.

‘We are training him in courage,' Penda said pointedly.

Anger blazed for a moment in Oswy's blue eyes but was swiftly suppressed. ‘Come, the feast is prepared,' was all he said.

Egfrid saw that every word that passed between those two had a deeper, darker meaning, but everyone moved politely off towards the main gateway. Great show was made of setting weapons aside in the sheltered porch as they entered the hall, while slaves and servants started to raise the tents. They made a Mercian camp well away from the Bernician one—and left a wide swathe of no-man's land between them.

The feast Oswin the Good provided was lavish and the talk cordial, but as the mead was passed and the
night
wore on, spirits grew reckless. Egfrid recognised the low-voiced singing of a Bernician battle song, and whispered riddles that contained hidden insults. The earlier goodwill began to turn sour.

Queen Eanfleda went to join Cynewise and her sister, who'd been sitting together, their heads bowed in close conversation. The three queens rose as one and a sudden hush fell over the hall.

‘We thank our dear cousin Oswin for providing such an excellent feast,' Eanfleda began, ‘but we have much to discuss in the morning.'

The three women faced their men with determination. ‘True peace between our kingdoms must depend on clear heads,' said Cynewise. ‘It is time for us all to go to our beds.'

Penda chuckled and nodded at Oswy. ‘I think we are dismissed,' he said.

They got up and left the hall for the comfort of their beds.

CHAPTER
10

A Battle of Words

F
ormal negotiations took place in the morning, and Egfrid and Chad attended the meeting of the kings. The two bitter enemies Penda and Oswy faced each other on their thrones, their queens at their side on smaller seats.

A snag rose in the smooth running of the agreement, for Oswy insisted that Prince Beorn should become a Christian, if he was to wed the devout Princess Alchfled.

Penda's face turned red with rage. The Mercian priest of Woden raised his raven wand and began to mutter curses, but Beorn spoke quietly to his father and after a few tense moments Chad was called to join them.

Beorn then made an announcement. ‘My father agrees that I should speak for myself in this,' he said.
‘
I am willing to take instruction in the Christian religion, and Brother Chad, Prince Egfrid's tutor, is willing to teach me. Then, if I truly come to believe that the Christ-God's way is a better way I shall become a Christian. My father agrees that I should choose such a thing of my own free will.'

This speech was followed by nods of approval from both sides. Young Princess Cyneburgh spoke quietly to her father, and Penda kissed her. ‘My daughter will take Christian instruction too,' he said. ‘She will make her own choice. I do not force my children one way or another. Are you content with that?'

Cynewise flashed him a look of gratitude.

Oswy said, ‘I am content.'

Somehow Penda had scored a point, whilst appearing to give ground, and Egfrid sensed that his father raged in silence.

‘This is a battle fought with words,' he said quietly to Chad.

The monk nodded grimly. ‘Better than a battle of swords,' he said. ‘No life is lost—no blood is shed.'

The weddings took place that afternoon. Lavish gifts of gold and jewels were exchanged and suddenly it was almost over. The final feast was ready and preparations
were
made to return to Tamworth—the only difference being that pretty young Cyneburgh would ride away to Bamburgh, while Alchfled would be riding in the Mercian train with him.

Egfrid had just dressed for the feast when Cynewise called him to her tent. ‘Penda has given permission for you to see your parents,' she said. ‘Chad will escort you to King Oswy's chamber.'

Egfrid smiled. ‘Thank you, lady,' he said. ‘This is your doing, I think.'

‘Remember you are still my foster-son,' she said.

Egfrid's mother welcomed him with more kisses, while his father sat in his chair looking uncomfortable. Chad hovered in the doorway, to allow them privacy.

‘My poor son,' his mother said. ‘Your courage has brought about this peace. Do you suffer very much, being forced to live with wicked pagans?'

‘They treat me kindly,' Egfrid said. ‘I have my own gelding and hound.' He wished his father would speak, rather than watch him darkly from the other side of the room.

At last Oswy looked up.

‘
Never trust them,' he said. ‘This peace may not hold, for I will never believe the word of any Mercian, and neither Oswin the Perfect nor Ethelwald are all they seem to be.'

Egfrid nodded, knowing that his father was right to doubt their loyalty.

‘Londesbrough should be mine,' Oswy said, as he glanced around him at the strongly built oak beams and rich wall hangings. ‘My brother ruled both Deira and Bernicia. Your mother is the daughter of Edwin of Deira. I have a better right to rule here than the Perfect One ever had.'

Eanfleda sighed. ‘But surely this chance for peace must make it worth giving a little,' she said.

‘We give too much,' Oswy said sharply. Then he seemed to recollect his son's vulnerable position. ‘Keep Chad at your side,' he said. ‘For there at least is one you can trust. Your mother has brought vellum and ink to help you in your lessons.'

Egfrid sighed. He wished they'd brought Woodruff instead, but he thanked them politely as Chad gathered up the vellum rolls and sealed inkhorns, and put them carefully into his leather scrip.

The sounding of horns announced the final meal.
Eanfleda
kissed her son again and Egfrid's brief moment with his parents was over. They made their way to the great hall and took their places for the last feast.

The following morning, Alchfled was given a box of jewels and a gift of land from Prince Beorn, as her morning-gift. This finalised the wedding ceremony and made them husband and wife, for good or ill. The bride blushed and smiled in a way that surprised Egfrid. Perhaps it would not be so bad a thing to have his sister with him at the Mercian court.

Queen Eanfleda came to him as the Mercians mounted up to leave. ‘Dear boy, stay strong and pray to the Christ-God that you will soon be released. I pray for it every day.'

‘I will be strong, Mother,' he agreed.

Then she dropped her voice and whispered, ‘Don't fret that your father doesn't come to say farewell. He cannot bear to let them see that he suffers by your exile…and he does suffer greatly. He is deeply humiliated to see you as Penda's foster-son.'

Egfrid swallowed hard. ‘But I am not humiliated by it. Queen Cynewise is my friend.'

‘
Yes.' Eanfleda nodded. ‘She is a good woman, almost as good as her sister. If only she knew the true faith then she would be truly good.'

This mild criticism of the Mercian queen rankled. Egfrid kissed his mother and swung himself up onto Golden-mane's back, feeling strangely eager to ride away.

The journey-mead was drunk, horns blared, and the Mercian cavalcade moved off. Egfrid saw tears on his sister's cheek and urged his horse forward to ride at her side.

‘Don't fear, sister,' he said. ‘I have much to show you at Tamworth.'

‘Dear, brave little brother,' she said. ‘You will be a comfort to me. Will you come to pray with me in Mercia? I mean to build a Christian church on the land that Beorn has given me—will you help with my plans?'

Egfrid smiled reassuringly at her, but when she fell silent he allowed his horse to drop back to ride beside Chad and Fritha.

‘I tried to cheer my sister,' he told the monk. ‘But I think you could bring her more comfort than me.'

Chad urged his mare forward, while Egfrid fell in with Fritha.

‘
How is that hound of yours doing?' she asked.

Egfrid smiled. ‘He comes whenever I call.'

They reached Tamworth just in time for the Night of the Dead, the feast that the Christians called All Hallows Eve. Alchfled refused to take part in the pagan celebration and suggested that Egfrid come to her small private hall to pray. Aware of the disappointment on the boy's face, Beorn offered to stay with his bride instead.

‘I wish I could see the Night of the Dead,' Egfrid told Chad, once they were out of his sister's hearing. ‘Fritha says there will be dancing after dark and fires lit on the hillside. I would not worship the death-goddess. I would only watch to see what happens.'

Chad thought for a moment. ‘I'll come with you,' he said. ‘We may both learn something. To know about such things is part of your education, I think.'

Egfrid grinned. ‘I'll be safe with you and Dapple,' he said.

The Mercians baked cakes and carried them to the shrine of Hella, the death-goddess. Though the food and drink were meant for the dead, they seemed to be eaten by the living, and once darkness fell wild music and dancing began. The boy and the monk sat on the
shadowy
hillside with Dapple at their side and watched, faint smiles upon their faces.

Blood-month followed and just as in Bernicia, the cattle were slaughtered and butchered, their carcases salted or smoked. Only the breeding cows were saved for spring. Every hut and dwelling had joints and haunches hanging above the fires. The weather grew cold and Yule was celebrated with more fires, feast and drinking. The guards no longer stood outside Egfrid's guest house.

CHAPTER
11

A Coward's Act