Part 28 (1/2)

There was no dais, so Edward's chair was set on a great rug and next to him was a stool on which aethelflaed sat. Behind the brother and sister was a dark group of priests. I knew none of them, but they evidently knew me because four of the six churchmen made the sign of the cross when I approached the makes.h.i.+ft throne.

Steapa knelt to the aetheling, Finan bowed, and I nodded my head. Edward evidently expected more obeisance from me and waited, but when it was plain that I had offered him all I was prepared to give he forced a smile. ”You did well,” he said in his high voice. There was neither warmth nor conviction in the compliment.

I slapped Steapa's back. ”Steapa did well, lord.”

”He is a loyal warrior and a good Christian,” Edward said, implying that I was neither.

”He's also a big ugly brute,” I said, ”and he makes Danes s.h.i.+t themselves with fear.”

Edward and the priests all bridled at that. Edward was steeling himself to reprove me when aethelflaed's laughter cut across the hall. Edward looked annoyed at the sound, but composed himself. ”I am sorry that the Lord aelfwold died,” he said.

”I share your sorrow, lord.”

”My father,” he said, ”has sent me to capture this nest of heathen pirates.” He spoke in the same way that he sat; stiffly. He was horribly conscious of his youth and of his fragile authority, but, like his father, he had intelligent eyes. He was lost in this hall, though. He was frightened of my blood-spattered face, and frightened of most of the older warriors who had been killing Danes when he was still sucking on his wet nurse's t.i.ts. ”The question,” he said, ”is how.”

”Steapa already has the answer,” I said.

Edward looked relieved and Steapa looked alarmed. ”Speak, Steapa,” Edward said.

Steapa looked at me in fright so I answered for him. ”We have to cross the moat and climb the wall,” I said, ”and we can only do that at low tide, and the Danes know it. They also know we have to do it quickly.”

There was silence. I had stated the obvious and that clearly disappointed Edward, but what did he expect? That I would have some sorcerous scheme born from pagan wiles? Or did he believe angels would fly from the Christian heaven and attack the Danes inside the fort? There were only two ways to capture Beamfleot. One was to starve the Danes, and we did not have the time to do that, and the other was to storm the walls. Sometimes, in war, simple is the only answer. It is also likely to be a blood-soaked answer, and all the men in the hall knew it. Some looked at me reproachfully, imagining the horror of trying to scale a high palisade manned by murderous Danes. ”So,” I went on confidently, ”we need to be busy. Weohstan,” I turned to him, ”your men will patrol the marshes to stop messengers leaving the fort. Beornoth, take Lord aelfwold's men and threaten the s.h.i.+p-forts at the creek's end. You, lord,” I looked at Edward, ”your men must start making ladders, and you,” I pointed at the six priests, ”what are you good for?”

Edward just stared at me in horror and the priests looked offended. ”They can pray, Lord Uhtred?” aethelflaed suggested sweetly.

”Then pray hard,” I told them.

There was silence again. Men expected a council of war, and Edward, who was notionally in charge, would have liked the pretense that he was making the decisions, but we did not have time to argue. ”Ladders,” Edward finally said in a puzzled voice.

”We climb them,” I said savagely, ”and we need at least forty.”

Edward blinked. I could see he was debating whether to slap me down, but then he must have decided that victory at Beamfleot was preferable to making an enemy. He even managed a smile. ”They will be made,” he said graciously.

”So all we have to do,” I said, ”is get them across the moat, then use them to climb the wall.” Edward's smile faded.

Because even he knew men would die. Too many men.

But there was no other way.

The first problem was crossing the moat, to which end I rode north the next day. I was worried that Haesten would lead his men back to relieve the siege and we sent strong scouting parties west and north to watch for the coming of that army. In the end it never did come. Haesten, it seemed, was confident of Beamfleot's strength and of the courage of its garrison, so instead of trying to destroy us he sent his raiding parties ever farther into Mercia, attacking unwalled towns and villages that had thought themselves safe because they were close to the West Saxon border. The skies over Mercia were palled with smoke.

I rode to Thunresleam and found the priest, Heahberht. I told him what I wanted, and Osferth, who was leading the eighteen men who accompanied me, gave the priest a spare horse. ”I'll fall off, lord,” Heahberht said nervously, staring with his one eye at the tall stallion.

”You'll be safe,” I said. ”Just cling on. That horse will look after you.”

I had taken Osferth and his men because we were riding north into East Anglia and that was Danish territory. I did not expect trou ble. Any Dane who wished to fight the Saxons would already have ridden with Haesten, so those who had remained on their land probably wanted no part of the war, yet even so it was prudent to ride in force. We were just about to go north from the village when Osferth warned me that more hors.e.m.e.n were approaching, and I turned to see them coming from the woods that screened Beamfleot.

My first thought was that Haesten's army must have been seen far to the west and these hors.e.m.e.n rode to warn me, but then one rider raised a dragon banner and I saw it was the flag of the aetheling Edward. Edward himself was with them, accompanied by a score of warriors and a priest. ”I haven't seen much East Anglian territory,” he explained his presence awkwardly, ”and wish to accompany you.”

”You're welcome, lord,” I said in a voice that made it amply clear he was not.

”This is Father Coenwulf,” Edward introduced the priest who gave me a reluctant nod. He was a pale-skinned man, some ten years or so older than Edward. ”Father Coenwulf was my tutor,” Edward said with an affectionate tone, ”and is now my confessor and friend.”

”What did you teach him?” I asked Coenwulf, who made no answer, but just stared at me with indignant and very blue eyes.

”Philosophy,” Edward said, ”and the writings of the church fathers.”

”I learned just one useful lesson as a child,” I told him. ”Beware the blow that comes under the s.h.i.+eld. This is Father Heahberht,” I gestured at the one-eyed priest, ”and this is the aetheling Edward,” I said to the village priest who almost fell from his horse in terror of meeting such an exalted prince.

Father Heahberht was our guide. I had asked him where there might be s.h.i.+ps, and he had said that he had seen two trading s.h.i.+ps being hauled from a river to the north less than a week before. ”They aren't far away, lord,” he had told me. He said the s.h.i.+ps belonged to a Danish trader and had been beached for repairs. ”But they may not be seaworthy, lord,” he added nervously.

”It doesn't matter,” I said, ”just take us there.”

It was a warm, sun-kissed day. We rode through good farmland that Father Heahberht said belonged to a man called Thorstein who had ridden with Haesten into Mercia. Thorstein had done well for himself. His land was well watered, had fine woodlands and healthy orchards. ”Where's his hall?” I asked Heahberht.

”We're going there, lord.”

”Is this Thorstein a Christian?” Edward wanted to know.

”He says so, lord,” Heahberht stammered, blus.h.i.+ng. He obviously wanted to say more, but fear meant he could not find the words and he just gazed slack-jawed at the aetheling. Edward waved the priest ahead of us, but the poor man had no idea how to quicken his horse so Osferth leaned over to take his bridle. They trotted ahead with Heahberht gripping the saddle's pommel for dear life.

Edward grimaced. ”A country priest,” he said dismissively.

”They do more harm than good,” Coenwulf said. ”One of our duties, lord, will be to educate the country clergy.”

”He wears the short tunic!” Edward observed knowingly. The Pope himself had ordered priests to wear full-length robes, a command Alfred had enthusiastically endorsed.

”Father Heahberht,” I said, ”is a clever man, and a good one. But he's frightened of you.”

”Of me!” Edward asked, ”why?”

”Because he's a peasant,” I said, ”but a peasant who learned to read. Can you even imagine how hard it was for him to become a priest? And all his life he's been p.i.s.sed on by thegns. So of course he's scared of you. And he wears a short robe because he can't afford a long one, and because he lives in mud and s.h.i.+t, and short robes don't get as filthy as long ones. So how would you feel if you were a peasant who meets a man who might one day be King of Wess.e.x?”

Edward said nothing, but Father Coenwulf pounced. ”Might?” he demanded indignantly.

”Might indeed,” I said airily. I was goading them, reminding Edward that he had a cousin, aethelwold, who had more right to the throne than Edward himself, though aethelwold, Alfred's nephew, was a poor excuse of a man.

My words silenced Edward for a while, but Father Coenwulf was made of sterner stuff. ”I was surprised, lord,” he broke the silence, ”to discover the Lady aethelflaed here.”

”Surprised?” I asked, ”why? She's an adventurous lady.”

”Her place,” Father Coenwulf said, ”is with her husband. My lord the aetheling will agree with me, is that not so, lord?”

I glanced at Edward and saw him redden. ”She should not be here,” he forced himself to say and I almost laughed aloud. I realized now why he had ridden with us. He was not much interested in seeing a few miles of East Anglia, instead he had come to carry out his father's instructions, and those instructions were to persuade aethelflaed to her duty. ”Why tell me?” I asked the pair.

”You have influence over the lady,” Father Coenwulf said grimly.

We had crossed a watershed and were riding down a long and gentle slope. The path was edged with coppiced willows and there were glimpses of water far ahead, silver sheens bright beneath the pale sky. ”So,” I ignored Coenwulf and looked at Edward, ”your father sent you to reprove your sister?”

”It is a Christian duty to remind her of her responsibilities,” he answered very stiffly.