‘Oda should be in Eoferwic by now,’ I said.
‘And how long before Æthelstan sends a summons to you?’ Finan asked, amused.
‘It’s probably on its way already.’
‘And you go?’ Benedetta asked.
‘If he asks nicely? Perhaps.’
‘Or perhaps not,’ Finan added.
We were watching my younger men practise their sword-craft. Berg was teaching them. ‘Roric’s useless,’ I growled.
‘He’s learning.’
‘And look at Immar! Couldn’t fight a slug!’
‘His arm is still healing.’
‘And Aldwyn! He looks like he’s cutting hay.’
‘He’s still a boy, he’ll learn.’
I leaned down and scratched the coarse hair of one of my wolfhounds. ‘And Roric’s getting fat.’
‘He’s humping one of the dairy girls,’ Finan said. ‘The fat one. I suspect she brings him butter.’
I grunted. ‘Suspect?’
‘Cream too,’ Finan went on. ‘I’ll have her watched.’
‘And have her whipped if she’s stealing.’
‘Him too?’
‘Of course.’ I yawned. ‘Who won the eating contest last night?’
Finan grinned. ‘Who do you think?’
‘Gerbruht?’
‘Eats like an ox.’
‘Good man, though.’
‘He is,’ Finan said, ‘and he won the farting contest too.’
‘Ouff!’ Benedetta grimaced.
‘It amuses them,’ I insisted. I had heard the laughter in the hall from the seaward ramparts where I had been watching the moon’s long reflection on the sea and thinking about Æthelstan. Wondering why he was in Eoferwic. Wondering how many years or months I had before none of it mattered to me any longer.
‘They’re easily amused,’ Finan said.
‘There’s a ship,’ I pointed northwards.
‘Saw it ten minutes ago,’ Finan said. He had the eyesight of a hawk. ‘And not a cargo ship either.’
He was right. The approaching vessel was long, low and lean, a ship made for war, not trade. Her hull was dark and her sail was almost black. ‘She’s the Trianaid,’ I said. The name meant Trinity.
‘You know her?’ Finan sounded surprised.
‘Scottish ship. We saw her at Dumnoc a few years ago.’
‘Evil comes from the north,’ Benedetta said balefully, ‘the star and the dragon! They do not lie!’
‘It’s only one ship,’ I said, to calm her.
‘And coming here,’ Finan added. The ship, under sail, was close to Lindisfarena and turning her cross-decorated prow towards Bebbanburg’s harbour channel. ‘Silly bugger will go aground if he’s not careful.’
But the Trianaid’s helmsman knew his business and the ship skirted the sandbanks, dropped her sail, and rowed into the channel where we lost sight of her. I waited for the sentries on the northern ramparts to bring me news. One ship could not pose a danger. At most the Trianaid could carry sixty or seventy men, but still my son rousted resting warriors and sent them to the walls. Berg broke off his practice and led men to retrieve most of Bebbanburg’s horses that had been put to pasture just outside the village. Some of the villagers, fearing that the dark ship’s arrival presaged a short, savage raid, were driving livestock towards the Skull Gate.
Vidarr Leifson brought me news. ‘Scots, lord,’ he said. ‘They hailed us. They’re moored in the harbour now and waiting.’
‘Waiting for what?’
‘They say they want to talk to you, lord.’
‘Are they flying a standard?’
‘A red hand holding a cross, lord.’
‘Domnall!’ I said, surprised.
‘Haven’t seen that bastard in a good while,’ Finan commented. Domnall was one of Constantine’s war leaders and a formidable warrior. ‘Do we let him in?’
‘Him and six men,’ I said, ‘but no more than six. We’ll meet him in the hall.’
It was a half hour or more before Domnall climbed to Bebbanburg’s great hall. His men, all but the six who kept him company, stayed on their ship. Plainly they were under orders not to provoke me because none even tried to come ashore, and Domnall even went so far as to voluntarily surrender his sword at the door of the hall, and instructed his men to do the same. ‘I know you’re terrified of me, Lord Uhtred,’ Domnall bellowed as my steward took the blades, ‘but we come in peace!’
‘When the Scots talk of peace, Lord Domnall,’ I said, ‘I lock up my daughters.’
He paused, nodded curtly, and when he spoke again his voice was sympathetic. ‘You had a daughter, I know, and I’m sorry for her, lord. She was a brave woman.’
‘She was,’ I said. My daughter had died defending Eoferwic against Norsemen. ‘And your daughters?’ I asked. ‘They’re all well?’
‘They’re well,’ he said, striding down the hall towards the blazing fire we had revived in the big central hearth. ‘All four married now and squeezing out babies like good sows. Dear Lord above,’ he held his hands to the flames, ‘but it’s a raw day.’
‘It is.’
‘King Constantine sends his greetings,’ he said casually and then, more enthusiastically, ‘is that ale?’
‘The last time you drank my ale you said it reminded you of horse piss.’
‘It probably will again, but what’s a thirsty man to do?’ He saw Benedetta sitting beside me and bowed to her. ‘My sympathy, lady.’
‘Sympathy?’ she asked.
‘Because you live with me,’ I explained, then waved Domnall to the other side of the table where benches could sit all his men.
Domnall was looking about the hall. The high roof was held by great beams and rafters, the lower walls were now dressed stone, and the rush-covered floor was made from wide pine planks. I had spent a fortune on the fortress and it showed. ‘It’s a grand place, Lord Uhtred,’ Domnall said, ‘it would be a pity to lose it.’
‘I’ll try not to.’
He chuckled at that, then swung his great legs across a bench. He was a huge man, and one I was devoutly glad never to have faced in battle. I liked him. His companions, all but for a whey-faced priest, were similarly impressive, no doubt chosen to intimidate us by their appearance, but chief of them, and sitting on Domnall’s right, was another huge man. He looked to be around forty years old, had a lined and scarred face burned dark by the sun against which his hair, worn long, was a startling white. He stared at me with undisguised hostility, yet what was
