The Lords of the North (27 page)

'I was.'

'And here you are. And you're just the man I want.' He smiled, certain that I liked him, in
which certainty he could not have been more mistaken, but Æthelred assumed that everyone
else in the whole world was envious of him and wanted nothing more than to be his friend. The
king,' he said, 'has honoured me with the command of his household guard.'

'Alfred has?' I asked, surprised.

'At least until I assume my father's duties.'

'Your father's well, I trust?' I asked drily.

'He's sick,' Æthelred said, sounding pleased, 'so who knows how long I shall command
Alfred's guard. But you'd be of great use to me if you would serve in the household
troops.'

'I'd rather shovel shit,' I said, then held a hand towards Brida. 'Do you remember
Brida?' I asked. 'You tried to rape her ten years ago.'

He went bright red, said nothing, but just hurried away. Brida laughed as he retreated,
then gave a very small bow because Ælswith, Alfred's wife, was walking past us. Ælswith
ignored us, for she had never liked Brida or me, but Ænflaed smiled. She was Ælswith's
closest companion and I kissed my hand towards her. 'She was a tavern whore,' I told Brida,
'and now she rules the king's household.'

'Good for her.' Brida said.

'Does Alfred know she was a whore?' Ragnar asked.

'He pretends not to know,' I said.

Alfred came last. He looked sick, but that was nothing unusual. He half inclined his head
to me, but said nothing, though Beocca scuttled over to me as we waited for the crowd at the
door to thin. 'You're to see the king after midday prayers,' he told me, 'and you too, Lord
Ragnar. I shall summon you.'

'We'll be in the Two Cranes,' I told him.

'I don't know why you like that tavern.'

'Because it's a brothel too, of course,' I said. 'And if you go there, father, make sure
you carve a notch in one of the beams to show you humped one of the ladies. I'd recommend
Ethel. She's only got one hand, but it's a miracle what she can do with it.'

'Oh, dear God, Uhtred, dear God. What an ugly cesspit you have for a mind. If I ever marry,
and I pray God for that dear happiness, I shall go unstained to my bride.'

'I pray you do too, father.' I said, and I meant it. Poor Beocca. He was so ugly and he
dreamed of a wife, but he had never found one and I doubted he ever would. There were plenty
of women willing to marry him, squint and all, for he was, after all, a privileged priest
high in Alfred's estimation, but Beocca was waiting for love to strike him like a
lightning bolt. He would stare at beautiful women, dream his hopeless dreams and say his
prayers. Perhaps, I thought, his heaven would reward him with a glorious bride, but nothing
I had ever heard about the Christian heaven suggested that such joys were available.

Beocca fetched us from the Two Cranes that afternoon. I noted that he glanced at the beams
and looked shocked at the number of notches, but he said nothing of them, leading us instead
to the palace where we surrendered our swords at the gatehouse. Ragnar was commanded to
wait in the courtyard while Beocca took me to Alfred who was in his study, a small room that
had been part of the Roman building that was the heart of Wintanceaster's palace. I had been
in the room before, so I was not surprised by the scant furniture, nor by the piles of
parchments that spilled from the wide window ledge. The walls were of stone, and whitewashed,
so it was a well-lit room, though for some reason Alfred had a score of candles burning in
one corner. Each candle had been scored with deep lines about a thumb's width apart. The
candles were certainly not there for illumination because an autumnal sun streamed
through the big window, and I did not want to ask what purpose the candles served in case he
told me. I merely assumed there was a candle for every saint he had prayed to over the last
few days and each of the scored lines was a sin that had to be burned away. Alfred had a very
acute conscience for sins, especially mine. Alfred was dressed in a brown robe so that he
looked like a monk. His hands, like Beocca's, were ink-stained. He appeared pale and sick. I
had heard his stomach troubles were bad again and every now and then he flinched as a pain
stabbed at his belly. But he greeted me warmly enough. 'Lord Uhtred. I trust you are in
health?'

'I am, lord,' I said, still kneeling, 'and hope the same for you.'

'God afflicts me. There is purpose in that, so I must be glad of it. Stand, please. Is Earl
Ragnar with you?'

'He is outside, lord.'

'Good.' he said. I stood in the only space left in the small room. The mysterious candles
took up a large area, and Beocca was standing against the wall next to Steapa who took up even
more. I was surprised to see Steapa. Alfred favoured clever men and Steapa was hardly
clever. He had been born a slave, now he was a warrior, and in truth he was not much good for
anything beyond consuming ale and slaughtering the king's enemies, two tasks he did with a
brutal efficiency. Now he stood just beyond the king's high writing desk with an awkward
expression as though he were unsure why he had been summoned.

I thought Alfred would ask about my ordeal, for he liked to hear stories of distant places
and strange people, but he ignored it utterly, instead asking for my opinion of Guthred
and I said I liked Guthred, which seemed to surprise the king. 'You like him,' Alfred asked,
'despite what he did to you?'

'He had little choice, lord.' I said. 'I told him that a king must be ruthless in defence
of his realm.

'Even so.' Alfred watched me with a dubious face.

'If we mere men, lord, wanted gratitude from kings,' I said with my most earnest
expression, 'then we should be forever disappointed.'

He looked at me sternly then gave a rare burst of laughter. 'I've missed you, Uhtred.' he
said. 'You are the only man who is impertinent with me.'

'He did not mean it, lord.' Beocca said anxiously.

'Of course he meant it,' Alfred said. He pushed some parchments aside on the window ledge
and sat down. 'What do you think of my candles?' he asked me.

'I find, lord,' I said thoughtfully, 'that they're more effective at night.'

'I am trying to develop a clock.' he said.

'A clock?'

To mark the passing hours,'

'You look at the sun, lord,' I said, 'and at night, the stars.'

'Not all of us can see through clouds,' he remarked tartly. 'Each mark is supposed to
represent one hour. I am endeavoring to find which markings are most accurate. If I can
find a candle that burns twenty-four divisions between midday and midday then I shall
always know the hour, won't I?'

'Yes, lord,' I said.

'Our time must be properly spent,' he said, 'and to do that we must first know how much time
we have.'

'Yes, lord,' I said again, my boredom obvious.

Alfred sighed, then looked through the parchments and found one embossed with a huge seal
of sickly-green wax. 'This is a message from King Guthred,' he said. 'He has asked for my
advice and I am minded to offer it. To which end I am sending an embassy to Eoferwic.
Father Beocca has agreed to speak for me.'

'You do me a privilege, lord,' Beocca said happily, 'a great privilege.'

'And Father Beocca will be carrying precious gifts for King Guthred,' Alfred went on,
'and those gifts must be protected, which means an escort of warriors. I thought, perhaps,
you would provide that protection, Lord Uhtred? You and Steapa?'

'Yes, lord,' I said, enthusiastically this time, for all I dreamed of was Gisela and she
was in Eoferwic.

'But you are to understand,' Alfred said, 'that Father Beocca is in charge. He is my
ambassador and you will take his orders. Is that understood?'

'Indeed, lord,' I said, though in truth I had no need to accept Alfred's instructions. I
was no longer sworn to him, I was not a West Saxon, but he was asking me to go where I wanted
to go and so I did not remind him that he lacked my oath.

He did not need reminding. 'You will all three return before Christmas to report on your
embassy,' he said, 'and if you do not swear to that,' he was looking at me now, 'and swear to
be my man, then I shall not let you go.'

'You want my oath?' I asked him.

'I insist on it, Lord Uhtred,' he said.

I hesitated. I did not want to be Alfred's man again, but I sensed there was far more
behind this so-called embassy than the provision of advice. If Alfred wanted to advise
Guthred why not do it in a letter? Or send a half-dozen priests to weary Guthred's ears? But
Alfred was sending Steapa and myself and, in truth, the two of us were only fit for one
thing, fighting. And Beocca, though undoubtedly a good man, was hardly an impressive
ambassador. Alfred, I thought, wanted Steapa and me in the north, which meant he wanted
violence done, and that was encouraging, but still I hesitated and that annoyed the
king.

'Must I remind you,' Alfred asked with some asperity, 'that I went to a deal of trouble
to free you from your slavery?'

'Why did you do that, lord?' I asked.

Beocca hissed, angry that I had not yielded immediately to the king's wishes, and
Alfred looked affronted, but then he seemed to accept that my question deserved an answer.
He motioned Beocca to silence, then fidgeted with the seal on Guthred's letter, shredding
scraps of green wax. The Abbess Hildegyth convinced me,' he said at last. I waited. Alfred
glanced at me and saw I thought there was more to the answer than Hild's entreaties. He
shrugged. 'And it seemed to me,' he said awkwardly, 'that I owed you more than I repaid you
for your services at Æthelingaeg.'

It was hardly an apology, but it was an acknowledgment that five hides were no reward
for a kingdom. I bowed my head. Thank you, lord,' I said, 'and you shall have my oath.' I did
not want to give it to him, but what choice did I have? Thus are our lives decided. For years I
had swayed between love of the Danes and loyalty to the Saxons and there, beside the
guttering candle-clocks, I gave my services to a king I disliked. 'But might I ask, lord,'
I went on,

'why Guthred needs advice?'

'Because Ivarr Ivarson tires of him,' Alfred said, 'and Ivarr would have another, more
compliant, man on Northumbria's throne.'

'Or take the throne for himself?' I suggested.

'Ivarr, I think, does not want a king's heavy responsibilities.' Alfred said.

'He wants power, he wants money, he wants warriors, and he wants another man to do the
hard work of enforcing the laws on the Saxons and raising taxes from the Saxons. And he
will choose a Saxon to do that.' That made sense. It was how the Danes usually governed their
conquered Saxons. 'And Ivarr,' Alfred went on, 'no longer wants Guthred.'

'Why not, lord?'

'Because King Guthred,' Alfred said, 'attempts to impose his law equally on Danes and
Saxons alike.'

I remembered Guthred's hope that he would be a just king. 'Is that bad?' I asked.

'It is foolishness,' Alfred said, 'when he decrees that every man, whether pagan or
Christian, must donate his tithe to the church.'

Offa had mentioned that church tax and it was, indeed, a foolish imposition. The tithe
was a tenth of everything a man grew, reared or made, and the pagan Danes would never accept
such a law. 'I thought you would approve, lord,' I said mischievously.

'I approve of tithing, of course,' Alfred said wearily, 'but a tithe should be given with
a willing heart.'

'Hilarem datorem diligit Deus,' Beocca put in unhelpfully. 'It says so in the gospel
book.'

'“God approves a cheerful giver”,' Alfred provided the translation, 'but when a land
is half pagan and half Christian you do not encourage unity by offending the more
powerful half. Guthred must be a Dane to the Danes and a Christian to the Christians. That is
my advice to him.'

'If the Danes rebel,' I asked, 'does Guthred have the power to defeat them?'

'He has the Saxon fyrd, what's left of it, and some Danish Christians, but too few of
those, alas. My estimate is that he can raise six hundred spears, but fewer than half of
those will be reliable in battle.'

'And Ivarr?' I asked.

'Nearer a thousand. And if Kjartan joins him then he will have far more. And Kjartan is
encouraging Ivarr.'

'Kjartan,' I said 'doesn't leave Dunholm.'

'He doesn't need to leave Dunholm,' Alfred said, 'he needs only to send two hundred men to
assist Ivarr. And Kjartan, I am told, has a particular hatred of Guthred.'

'That's because Guthred pissed all over his son,' I said.

'He did what?' The king stared at me.

'Washed his hair with piss,' I said. 'I was there.'

'Dear God,' Alfred said, plainly thinking that every man north of the Humber was a
barbarian.

'So what Guthred must do now,' I said, 'is destroy Ivarr and Kjartan?'

'That is Guthred's business,' Alfred said distantly.

'He must make peace with them,' Beocca said, frowning at me.

'Peace is always desirable,' Alfred said, though without much enthusiasm.

'If we are to send missionaries to the Northumbrian Danes, lord,' Beocca urged, 'then we
must have peace.'

'As I said,' Alfred retorted, 'peace is desirable.' Again he spoke without fervour and
that, I thought, was his real message. He knew there could not be peace.

I remembered what Offa, the dog-dancing man, had told me about marrying Gisela to my
uncle. 'Guthred could persuade my uncle to support him.' I suggested. Alfred gave me a
speculative look. 'Would you approve of that, Lord Uhtred?'

'Ælfric is a usurper.' I said. 'He swore to recognise me as heir to Bebbanburg and broke
that oath. No, lord, I would not approve.'

Alfred peered at his candles that guttered away, smearing the whitewashed wall with their
smoke. 'This one,' he said, 'burns too fast.' He licked his fingers, pinched out the flame, and
put the dead candle in a basket with a dozen other rejects. 'It is greatly to be wished,' he
said, still examining his candles, 'that a Christian king reigns in Northumbria. It is even
desirable that it should be Guthred. He is a Dane, and if we are to win the Danes to a
knowledge and love of Christ then we need Danish kings who are Christians. What we do not need
is Kjartan and Ivarr making war on the Christians. They would destroy the church if they
could.'