‘Such is the king’s wish,’ Ealdred said.
‘So he says! And my father agrees!’
‘Your father saw the wisdom of the king’s wishes.’
‘Did he, indeed? And what is that wisdom, Ealdred?’
‘The king believes it imperative to hold this fortress against any attempt of the Scots to take it by force.’
‘I can see my father would agree with that. And my father believes his own forces are incapable of doing that?’
‘I have seen your forces,’ Ealdred said defiantly, ‘unkempt, ill-disciplined and filthy!’
‘They are a disgrace,’ my son said happily, ‘but they can fight!’
‘The king wishes Bebbanburg to be held securely,’ Ealdred said.
‘Oh Ealdred! How wise of the king!’ My son leaned back in his chair and ate the scrap of cheese. ‘It must be held securely, indeed it must! Is that why my father added his seal to the king’s letter?’
‘Of course,’ Ealdred said stiffly.
‘And you saw him do it?’
The slightest hesitation, then Ealdred nodded. ‘I did.’
‘And you’re really a lord? Not a mere messenger?’
‘I am a lord.’
‘Then you’re a lying toad of a lord,’ my son said, smiling. ‘A toad of no truth, a dishonest toad. No, worse, you’re nothing but toad shit, lying toad shit. My father did not add his seal to this letter.’
‘You’re calling me a liar!’
‘I just did!’
Ealdred, goaded to rage, put his hand on his sword’s hilt and took a pace forward, but the sound of my guards drawing steel through the throats of scabbards checked him. ‘I challenge you!’ he snarled at my son.
‘I challenge you!’ Alaina imitated him, and Ealdred, suddenly realising the child was still behind him and, turning, seeing her imitate his movements, lashed out. He slapped her hard, making her cry out as she fell to the stone floor.
And I stepped through the curtain.
One of Ealdred’s companions muttered a curse, but otherwise the only sounds in the hall were the sigh of the wind and my footsteps as I crossed the platform and went down the steps to the hall floor. I walked to Ealdred. ‘So not only are you a liar,’ I said, ‘but you strike little girls.’
‘I …’ he began.
He got no further because I hit him. I too had been goaded to fury, but it was a cold fury, and the open-handed blow I struck was calculated, sudden and brutally hard. I might be old, but I have practised sword-craft every day of my life and that gives a man strength. My blow staggered him. He almost kept his feet, but I pushed him and he fell. Not one of his men moved, and no wonder, because forty of my men were now filing into the hall, their mail bright, their helmets gleaming, and their spears levelled.
I stooped and gave Alaina my hand. A brave girl, she was not crying. ‘Do you have all your teeth?’ I asked her.
She explored her mouth with her tongue, then nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘Tell me if any are missing and I’ll take that toad’s teeth to replace them.’ I stood over Ealdred. ‘You are not Lord of Bebbanburg,’ I told him, ‘I am. Now, before we discuss the king’s letter, take off your swords. All of you!’
One by one they handed their swords to my son. Only Ealdred made no move, so my son simply dragged his blade from its scabbard. I had my men draw up tables and benches, then sat Ealdred and his men down. I called for wax and a candle and imprinted my seal on a scrap I tore from Æthelstan’s letter, then showed it to the priest alongside the seal fixed to the letter. ‘Are they the same seals?’
The priest stared at them, plainly unhappy to be asked, but finally shook his head. ‘It doesn’t appear so, lord,’ he muttered.
‘The church,’ I said relentlessly, ‘is adept at forgery. Usually to claim land. They produce a document apparently signed by some king who died two hundred years ago, add a copy of the poor man’s seal, and claim he granted them so many hides of valuable pasture. Is that what happened at Burgham? This seal was forged?’
‘I wouldn’t know, lord,’ the priest still muttered.
‘But the dishonest toad would know,’ I said, gazing at Ealdred, who had nothing to say and who refused to meet my gaze. ‘The brave warrior who hits small girls surely knows?’ I goaded him and still he remained silent. ‘You may tell the king,’ I said, ‘that I will hold Bebbanburg, that I have no alliance with the Scots and I never will.’
The priest glanced at Ealdred, but it was plain he would say nothing. ‘What if there’s war, lord?’ the priest asked nervously.
‘Look,’ I said, pointing at the rafters of the hall where the ragged banners hung. ‘Those flags,’ I said, ‘were all flown by the enemies of the Saxons. Some fought Alfred, some fought his son and some fought his daughter. And why do you think they hang there?’ I did not give him time to answer. ‘Because I fought them. Because I killed them.’
The priest looked up again. In truth the banners were so ragged and so discoloured by smoke he could hardly make them out, yet he recognised the triangular standards of the Northmen among the flags of Saxon warlords, and he could easily see how many there were. There were ravens, eagles, stags, axes, boars, wolves, and crosses, the badges of my enemies whose only reward for their enmity had been a few deeply dug feet of Saxon soil. ‘When you came through the gate,’ I said to the priest, ‘you saw the skulls. You know whose skulls they are?’
‘Your enemies, lord,’ he whispered.
‘My enemies,’ I agreed, ‘and I’m happy to add more skulls.’ I stood, then waited. Just waited and let the silence stretch until at last Ealdred could not resist looking at me. ‘There is only one Lord of Bebbanburg,’ I told him, ‘and you can go now. Your swords will be returned
