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 favored 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 defense 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 ?theling?g.”
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
