‘Good, lord King,’ I said, because to say anything else would simply have annoyed him. Eochaid might well have gone back to Scotland, but I did not doubt that Cumbria’s Norse settlers would still look north for protection, and while Alfgar and his garrison might be back in Cair Ligualid they were still surrounded by a sullen and hostile people. ‘You’ll dine with us tonight, lord King?’
‘With pleasure, lord, with pleasure!’
He brought a score of men into the fortress. Ingilmundr was one, and he prowled about the ramparts, no doubt wondering how they could be assaulted. Bishop Oda was another, and he at least was welcome. I found a moment to talk alone with him, both of us sitting in the cold moonlight and gazing at the wind-fretted sea. ‘I met Anlaf,’ I told him.
‘The king knows?’
‘I didn’t tell him. He has enough suspicions about me without learning that.’
‘He will learn!’
‘From you?’
‘No, lord.’
‘He’ll doubtless hear a rumour,’ I said, ‘and I will deny it.’
‘As you denied killing Guthfrith?’
‘The world is a better place without Guthfrith,’ I said harshly.
‘I did notice a new skull at the gate,’ Oda said slyly, and when I did not respond he just chuckled. ‘So tell me, what does Anlaf want?’
‘Northumbria.’
‘No surprise there.’
‘And he thinks Constantine will give it to him.’
Oda fingered the cross at his breast. ‘Why would Constantine want a pagan Norse king on his southern border?’
‘To humiliate Æthelstan, of course. And because he knows Æthelstan will never let the Scots rule in Eoferwic.’
‘But why would Æthelstan allow Anlaf to rule there?’
‘He won’t,’ I said, ‘but if Anlaf has the Scots as allies? The Strath Clotans? The men of the Suðreyjar Islands? All the northern pagans?’
‘All the northern pagans?’ Oda asked pointedly, looking at my hammer.
I laughed sourly. ‘Not me,’ I said. ‘I shall stay here and make my ramparts higher.’
Oda smiled. ‘Because you’re old? I seem to remember that Beowulf was as old as you when he fought the dragon, lord. And he killed the beast.’
And I had been sitting in this same place, just outside the hall, when I first heard of the great dragon flying southwards with its silver wings beating the sea into submission. ‘Beowulf was a hero,’ I retorted, ‘and yes, he killed the dragon, but he died doing it.’
‘He did his duty, my friend,’ Oda said, then paused to listen to a gust of singing coming from the hall. Æthelstan had brought his own harpist who was playing the famous song of Ethandun, telling how Alfred had defeated Guthrum and his great army. Men beat their hands on the tables and roared the words, especially when the lines came that described how Uhtred the Northman had cut down the foemen. ‘Mighty was his sword,’ they bellowed, ‘and eager its hunger. Many the Danish warrior rued the day.’ Was I the last man alive who had fought on the hill of Ethandun?
‘Is Steapa still alive?’ I asked Oda.
‘He is! As old as you, but still strong. He wanted to come with us to Scotland, but the king commanded him to stay at home.’
‘Because he’s old?’
‘On the contrary! Because he wanted a strong warrior to defend the coast in case the Northmen landed ships.’
Steapa had been at Ethandun and he and I had to be among the few survivors of that great battle. He was a huge man, a fearsome warrior, and we had started as enemies, but had become close friends. Steapa had begun life as a slave, but had risen to command Alfred’s household troops. He had once been given the ironic nickname Steapa Snotor, Steapa the Clever, because men reckoned him slow-witted, but Steapa had proved himself to be a subtle and savage fighter. ‘I should like to see him again,’ I said wistfully.
‘Then come south with us!’
I shook my head. ‘I fear trouble in the north. I’ll stay here.’
Oda smiled and touched my arm. ‘You worry too much, my friend.’
‘I do?’
‘There will be no great war. Anlaf has Norse enemies in Ireland. If he brings his army across the sea those enemies will take his land, and if he brings just half his army that won’t be enough to capture Northumbria, even with Constantine’s help. Strath Clota says they’re at peace, but now they’ve seen Constantine’s weakness why shouldn’t they attack him again? And do you really believe the pagan Norse will unite behind one man? They never have, so why should they now? No, my friend. There is much noise in the north because they are a noisy people, but the Scots have been beaten into submission, the Norse are more likely to fight each other than fight us, and I can assure you that there will be peace. Æthelstan will be crowned in Eoferwic, and, God be praised, Englaland will at last exist.’
‘God be praised?’ I asked sourly.
‘One people, one nation, one god.’
Somehow that declaration made me feel doomed, perhaps because it spelt the end of Northumbria? I touched the hilt of the small knife I wore at my belt. In deference to Æthelstan’s presence we had allowed no swords in the great hall, but the knife’s hilt would be enough to ensure my passage to Valhalla. I had seen sudden death in the hall, men falling from the bench with a hand grasping at their chest, and though I felt well I knew that death had to be coming. And it had to be soon, I thought, and regret crossed my mind like a cloud shadow sliding across the sea. I might never know what would happen, might never know whether Constantine sought revenge, or whether Anlaf would bring his fleet across the sea, or whether my son could hold Bebbanburg against all that the world could throw against it.
‘Come
