Far Traveler (20 page)

I would run. Wearing Gytha's dress, I would become a woman again—I'd stop being Widsith just long enough to get out of Cirenceaster. Then, a few miles down the road, I would turn myself back into a boy scop and flee as far from both Edward and Wil as possible. I held my breath as the last servants entered the hall, and then the doors were pushed shut. Inside, the feasters quieted a little, and the first scop began to sing.

Something moved at the edge of the courtyard. I scooped up my handful of pages, my harp, and the satchel stuffed full of Widsith's leathers, and cowered back against the wall. I would need to stay hidden until the way was clear for me to leave. Out in the yard the royal guards and the king's own men stood at intervals, covering the center of the yard. I squinted. They looked settled, a little sleepy, even. But hadn't something just moved out there in the dark?

The thudding sound of something hard against human flesh froze me where I crouched. Dark figures had come up around the royal guards and Osgar's own men, and these shapes now surrounded everyone who had been keeping watch outside the hall.
“Don't make a sound, no matter what you hear or see ”—
that's what Wil had said. I bit my lips together to keep from screaming as the shadows struck, silencing the guards with blows and quick slashes, muffling any cries with their hands or wads of cloth.

Two struggling bodies rolled toward my corner and slammed into me, throwing me to the ground and hurling my things out into the darkness. Half-blinded by my hood, I clutched for the strap of my satchel with one hand, then caught at my harpstrings just as a booted foot came crashing down on the frame, trapping and bruising my fingers. In the space of ten breaths every one of the king's and Osgar's men was down, some of them unquestionably dead.

I sprawled there, gasping, in the open. One of the figures stepped close to me, lifted me swiftly to my feet, and raised a hand toward my mouth. I would have screamed then, but the person only placed his fingers upon my lips and gripped my shoulder hard. I forced myself to stand quietly, my broken harp dangling from one battered hand.

“Are you the scop?” the figure hissed. Terrified, I nodded, certain I'd be treated no better than the felled guards if I said no. After a moment my captor pushed me back to stand on one side of the hall doorway, then stepped to the other side of the door himself. “They told me you'd be waiting by the door,” he muttered. “Didn't mean to knock you down.”

I stood there, muffled and hooded in my cloak, injured fingers throbbing. A little light escaped through the cracks around the doorjamb, and I saw the face of the man who'd picked me up. It was Dunstan.

What twisted fortune had brought him to my side?

“They're almost ready for you, scop,” he murmured. He was wearing leather armor and ring mail, which made him look very much like any other thane from Wil's camp. He and the men who had come with him must be the supporters from around Gleawceastershire of whom Wil had spoken. “I'll walk in with you,” Dunstan said softly, drawing his cloak close around him to hide his armor and sword, “and hang back while you play. When we see that they are all listening, your leader and I will move to take the king. Then you must watch out for yourself. Get away from the center of the room. It'll be safer by the walls.”

All I could do was nod. Shuddering, I pulled my own cloak even tighter over my woman's clothing. Somehow no one, not even Dunstan, had glimpsed the fine gown underneath, but little good that would do me a few moments from now. Unless I could find another chance to escape, I would have to enter the hall.

Furtively, I glanced around the yard as Dunstan's men busied themselves dragging off and concealing the fallen sentries. Something on the ground caught the light from the crack between the hall doors. Swiftly I grabbed the object and resumed my stance.

A silver penny—the busy steward must have missed his purse, and the servants bustling past afterward had trodden it into the ground. If I did ever manage to get away, I'd need this money, I thought, looking at King Edward's profile on the face of the coin. The words EDWARD REX shone out plainly—it was a new penny, barely worn. Gingerly, I turned the disk over with my bruised fingers, then felt every muscle go taut as I read the name of the mint-town: EOFORWIC.

Eoforwic?
If they were minting English money in Eoforwic, that must mean ... Edward already had some agreement with Rægnald—some treaty that would soon be well known, I guessed, remembering the king's carefree use of this coin. Suddenly I thought of Wil, whose plan was to force the king to send an army to Eoforwic against the Norse. But King Edward had not ignored Rægnald, he had bent him to his own purposes somehow! And if Edward had already won Rægnald's fealty, then Wil's actions would not save Northumbria tonight. They would only condemn him to death.

I had to tell Wil somehow, I thought, clutching the coin. In a moment Osgar's servants would let me go into the hall ... and I would go in, I resolved. I would walk to the high table, and try to say or do something, I didn't know what—anything to save Wil and my friends.

Shouts and cheers had begun to fill the hall on the other side of the doors. I jumped in panic as the doors swung inward, and one of Osgar's serving people gestured to show me that I should step inside.
This is madness. Dressed as a woman, all my words blown away—
But I had made up my mind. Dunstan kept close by my side as I entered the hall, then he backed into the shadows at the wall. I waited as the doors closed behind me. The bright clothing of feasters surrounded me. So many faces, and every one of them seemed strange to my frightened eyes.

But there was Osgar, at the high table. And Edward beside him, his face haggard, his expression inscrutable. Numbly I recognized Edward's queen, Eadgifu, and then found Aldwulf. The old fighter looked confused. Gytha beside him seemed stricken—she looked as if she might be sick.

“Thane,” Osgar demanded in a loud voice, addressing Wil, “is this the boy scop you brought before? Call him forward. My guests are expecting entertainment, a song. ...”

The blood was rushing to my face, but before Wil had to summon me, my feet began to step toward the high table again. Through the tunnel of my hood I saw Wil's eyes glittering at me. Perhaps he noticed that I carried no harp, for he scowled, then bent and whispered to Kenelm, who sat beside him.

I saw the stool where a scop should sit to sing and play. Well, I thought, clutching my cloak around me and coming to a halt beside it, this scop would stand instead. And say—what? My mouth was dry. My hand pulsed more and more painfully where it hung by my side, gripping the penny.

“Listen!” The word burst from my throat. Everyone was staring at the little hooded scop who spoke so abruptly. Wil sat forward. I ran my tongue over parched lips, then struggled on. “I have heard tell that in Gleawceastershire people remember Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians.” Wil's eyes were blazing now, but Edward still sat, impassive. “So tonight I wanted to sing you verses, composed in Lady Æthelflæd's honor. ...” My voice was barely strong enough to be heard beyond the high table, but Mother's name had caught everyone in the room by surprise.

Everyone but Wil. He must have seen how nervous I was and decided not to wait for me. He signaled to his men, for all at once I saw Kenelm drawing his short sword. Cries erupted all around the hall as he and the others from Wil's camp scrambled from their places and threw themselves at the thanes nearest the king. Wil seized Edward's arm and produced a dagger. Æthelstan, wielding only the little knife he'd brought for eating, lunged forward to grapple with Wil. The queen was screaming. Osgar was on his feet, enraged, calling for his own guards. But when I turned to look behind me, I saw Dunstan shoving open the doors and his renegades filling the doorway.

“Stop,” I whispered, forgotten in the middle of the hall. Æthelstan was reaching for Wil's throat with one bloodied hand. Aldwulf, shoving Gytha behind him, grabbed at Kenelm's bright tunic with one hand and gripped his sword arm with the other.

“Stop! You have to stop!” I screamed, but still no one heard.

The benches were emptying as guests ran, a few going to the king's aid, most rushing for the doors, where Dunstan and his cohort waited with weapons drawn. Suddenly I saw the way to the high table clear in front of me.
They'll listen if I'm closer, if I can just make them hear me!
I dashed forward, flung my weight onto the table, and swung my legs up. In another moment I was on my feet, standing only an arm's length away from Wil and Uncle Edward. I tore at the brooch beneath my chin, ripping it free, and let my cloak drop from my shoulders.

“Listen!” I howled down from the tabletop. “Listen to me! I have something to say!”

Maybe it was my voice, ringing with a scop's strength from that height. Maybe it was the borrowed dress, a rich gown of light blue wool, revealed like a bright piece of sky in front of their eyes. The fighters stopped, let their hands drop, took a few steps back, gaping at me.

“Who are you?”

It was Wil who asked, and when I looked at him, I flinched away from his expression.
He sees Widsith's face atop a woman's body.
I knew Wil must be thinking of everything he had said to me, of everything he had revealed, realizing how much I had concealed. The look of peevish affection he'd shown me ever since I came into his camp had disappeared completely.

“She is Ælfwyn of Mercia,” King Edward answered, startling every other person in the hall. “Let her speak.”

A wave of exclamations swept the room. I swallowed hard, looking at my uncle, whose gaze was no gentler than Wil's. But the fighting had stopped. My friends still lived. I opened my mouth.

“I want to say ...” The words caught in my throat. There were Wil's black eyes, fixed on me. I would not see him again after tonight, even if I saved him. “I ... I want to say,” I quavered, “that my mother, Lady Æthelflæd, learned from the kings of Wessex—from her father, and then from her brother—to meet her enemies with might and honor. All her life she was a friend and partner to King Edward. Her lands, her wealth, her armies, and even her family she pledged to him.” I seized one of Wil's hands and looked back at him with a glare as intense as his own. “Anyone who has ever considered himself an ally of Æthelflæd must understand this. And anyone”—I turned to throw the words back over my shoulder toward Dunstan standing by the door—“who calls himself a friend of Ælfwyn of Mercia must understand it, too. Anyone in this room”—now I made the words ring out through the entire hall—“who says they love the lady's daughter, Ælfwyn, but will not swear fealty to Edward of Wessex, should find a new lord or lady to serve. Get out!” I shouted. “There is no place for you here!”

The hall was completely silent as I turned to Edward. I took a step toward him, then another. Suddenly footsteps sounded behind me.

“No!” I exclaimed, whirling to confront Dunstan, who was striding closer and closer. “No, old friend,” I whispered. Dunstan stopped in his tracks. Then with a groan he turned and ran, bursting out through the hall doors.

The hall erupted with shouts. I looked back over my shoulder at Wil, frozen where he stood. Please, just leave, I wanted to call out to him.
Take the others and go quickly, before Osgar has time to stop you.
I wished I could tell him I was sorry.
Wil.
Tears started down my face as I forced my eyes away.

“Ælfwyn.” The king said my name in a tone I'd heard him use just once before, when he'd tried to leave me with a few words of comfort in my mother's death chamber. King Edward was holding out his hand to me.
All my freedom, my friends ...
Wil would still be watching—I had to make him go. I took the king's hand in both of mine. Then, desolate, I knelt and touched his fingers with my lips.

“ÆLFWYN!”

I squeezed a clod of dirt between my fingers. The earth was still dense and wet. Seeds would take hold and send out roots, I thought, if we had enough sun during the next week. I reached for one of the little cloth sacks I'd laid out beside me.

“Ælfwyn! Where are you?”

Bag of seeds in hand, I stood up. “Here, in the garden,” I called back.

Around the side of the wooden house with its steep thatched roof Aunt Dove appeared, carrying a basket. She leaned over the fence that stood between the house and the garden where I'd been working. “I thought you might want some of Sister Wulfrun's bread today, with Edith gone, and you alone.” She frowned at my faded dress stained with mud at the hem, my dirt-blackened hands, the wimple I'd taken off and hung behind me on the gatepost. “Edith most certainly is away,” she said with a little smile. Since Edith had been allowed to join me here at Sceaftesburh, she had fussed over my appearance almost as much as she had when I was a little girl. But Edith was gone to East Anglia now, fretting over Gytha, who would soon bear her first child. “The old wolf's whelp,” Edith liked to say in a sour tone, but her face could not entirely hide the pleasure she felt at the coming of her grandchild. She would be gone for half the spring, I expected, and during that time I intended to grow a yardful of early vegetables.

I brushed off my hands and squinted in the direction of the sun where it glowed behind the clouds that covered the sky. It must be a little past midmorning—Aunt Dove would have finished the midday offices, and maybe she could sit down with me for a talk.

“Will you eat with me if I promise to wash before I come inside?” I asked her.

“With that promise, yes, I can stay for a short while,” she said, turning to stroll back to the door of my little house.