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Authors: Theresa Tomlinson

BOOK: Better than Gold
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But before they could answer, the queen returned. Chad bowed courteously and Annis bobbed a curtsey.

Cynewise
noted the blackened eye and bruised face. ‘We must make you clean and comfortable,' she said. ‘I will order a guest house to be prepared. Come with me now.'

They followed her obediently and the queen left them sitting awkwardly for a while at the edge of the hearth, where Penda and his companions had settled to drink and eat. The hall was decorated with brightly painted shields and richly coloured woven tapestries. Servants bustled everywhere with jugs of ale and armfuls of bedding.

Very soon Cynewise returned to take them outside to where a row of neat timber houses stood. The one they were given was furnished with a bed, a truckle, a trestle with stools and a shuttered window-hole that opened onto the courtyard. A fire glowed in the stone hearth and in front of it a tub of warm water steamed. It was both inviting and comfortable, even though two armed warriors stood on guard outside.

A servant brought fresh clothing, but Chad declined it, explaining to the queen that his monk's habit was all he needed, though he'd be glad to shave his head again.

She shook her head amused. ‘Well, we will allow you your strange rites, holy man, but tonight we feast to
welcome
my husband and you must attend—all three of you. I'll leave you to recover from your ride. Send a servant if there's anything you need.'

Despite the queen's kindness and the comfort of their surroundings, as soon they were left alone, Egfrid sat down on the bed, covered his face with his hands and wept.

Annis sat down beside him and tried to hug him, but he turned away from her. ‘Don't,' he ordered.

Chad understood. ‘Leave him,' he said, gently. ‘He has a right to weep.'

Annis went reluctantly to examine the clothing the servants had brought, while Egfrid struggled to regain his dignity.

At last he dashed his tears away and raised his head. ‘What will they do to me now?' he asked. ‘I'm captured by the man who killed my uncle. I'm disgraced and my father will be furious.'

Chad sat down beside him. ‘He should not be furious with you,' he said.

‘But what will they
do
with me?'

‘I don't know,' Chad admitted. ‘But now they have us safe in Mercia, they seem to treat us kindly.'

Annis lifted a tunic. ‘These clothes are good,' she said.
‘
This is twice madder dyed, trimmed with tablet weave and just a little worn. And the gowns they've brought for me are far too good.'

Both boy and monk smiled at the cheerful note that had crept into her voice.

‘I'm glad you are both here with me,' Egfrid admitted.

‘Clothing and comfortable accommodation must mean they'll let us live,' Chad said. ‘I think they might demand a ransom from your father.'

Egfrid shuddered. ‘He will be furious if he is forced to give the Mercians gold.'

‘They might want land,' Chad suggested.

‘He'd hate that even more!'

‘Well,' said Chad, ‘we are here and must make the best of it. We are alive and together, praise God.'

‘Praise God,' Annis echoed with feeling.

‘Amen,' Egfrid added.

‘I shall sit outside and leave you for a while to wash and dress,' Chad said.

As the monk went, Annis gently started to peel Egfrid's dirty tunic away from his bruised shoulders.

Chad appeared again, as the light began to fade. He'd brushed his habit and shaved the stubble from his chin and forehead. ‘We're to go to the feasting hall,' he said.

Annis
too had washed and dressed in the gown she thought so fine. Apart from their bruises, they looked more their usual selves again.

Warm smells of food drifted from the huts all around the feasting hall. The guards fell in behind them as they left the shelter of their guest hut. Penda's great meeting place was as large as any Oswy Iding owned, but noisier and more crowded than the hall at Bamburgh. They hovered uncertainly on the threshold.

‘Where should we go?' Egfrid asked uncertainly.

Penda and Cynewise were seated at a trestle, on a raised dais, close to the fire. Hunting dogs and a few cats lazed around the long hearth. Warriors and richly gowned women filled the hall with a great deal of noise and cheerful greeting. Queen Cynewise saw them hesitating and beckoned them inside.

‘Come, join us at the high table. Yes, you too, the nurse and the holy man. Sit there opposite Woden's priest. No Christian wizardry here!' she added with quiet amusement.

Chad was placed across the table from a gnarled old man in a horned headdress. Annis nervously took her place, unused to being treated as a guest.

A horn sounded three blasts and to the sound of
drums,
a procession of richly dressed young women entered the hall, carrying heavy, gold-trimmed mead-horns. Cynewise took the largest one and offered it to Penda.

‘I've been looking forward to this,' the king announced. He tipped the horn and took a long pull at the sweet drink. Everyone cheered as he finished with a huge burp. The feast had begun.

Musicians strummed lutes as food was carried in from the kitchen huts outside and delicious scents drifted across the hall. As Penda had promised, a crisp boar's head that steamed and crackled was presented on a silver charger.

Penda hacked at it with his knife. ‘Here, give this to the boy,' he said, handing a generous portion to his wife to pass on to Egfrid. ‘He will never have tasted anything so good. I promised him this as we rode through the night.'

Everyone turned to watch as Egfrid lifted the golden delicacy to his lips and began to crunch on it. There were low chuckles at the look of pleasure that came unbidden to his face.

Sheep's haunches cooked in herbs and wine appeared, along with roasted swan and goose, served with rich
buttery
sauces and soft white bread. Egfrid realised he was hungry, but looked up in alarm at Annis. ‘Could it be poisoned?' he whispered.

She turned at once to Chad, her own hand hovering halfway to her mouth.

Chad gave a small shake of his head and calmly took a bite from a hunk of bread. They ate and couldn't help but enjoy the food. A sharp tug on his tunic made Egfrid glance beneath the table, to find a small mottled hound boldly pawing his knee. He kicked it away, longing miserably for his own dog Woodruff.

CHAPTER
6

Queen's Boon

T
he hall was filled with the sound of loud voices and the clatter of gold and silver plates, as one delicious dish after another was presented.

When a lull made it possible to speak, the queen turned to Egfrid. ‘The princess who led the procession is my oldest daughter Cyneburgh,' she told him. ‘She's named for my sister and all our young warriors want to marry her.'

Egfrid nodded politely.

The queen's expression changed. ‘Tell me, how is my sister, the widowed queen?'

Egfrid shrugged. ‘She wants to be a nun,' he said.

Cynewise looked thoughtful. ‘I remember a pale, quiet girl. We never saw each other again once I'd married Penda. My father converted to the Christian
faith,
but I had come to Mercia as a peace-weaver bride and felt that I couldn't betray the gods of my husband's kingdom. Your holy man might disagree, I think.'

Egfrid made no reply. He sensed that the queen was not really talking to him, but to Chad.

Woden's priest turned angrily to the Christian monk, expecting a response that he could challenge, but Chad refused to rise to the provocation.

‘You are a loyal wife, lady,' he said.

The queen smiled. ‘And I see that you are something of a peace-maker too. That is my son,' she said, pointing to a young man with a pleasant face who sat at the king's right hand. ‘His father always called him Beorn—little bear—and now he's known as Prince Beorn.'

Beorn raised his drink-horn to them in a cheerful manner. ‘Drink-hail!' he cried.

Egfrid could not help but smile.

‘Beorn is soon to be made king of the Middle Angles,' Cynewise added proudly.

‘I think you have a younger son, lady,' Egfrid said. ‘One who trains to be a warrior?'

‘Yes,' she said wistfully. ‘Wulfhere lives with his foster-father, one of Mercia's greatest warriors. He'll come back to us soon when he is battle-trained.'

Egfrid
sensed that he'd saddened her, but that made him resentful, for he had a mother who must be terrified for him.

‘My mother will weep when she knows I'm taken hostage,' he said.

Cynewise nodded. ‘Yes, she'll weep,' she agreed. ‘Any mother would weep.'

The queen sat quietly for a while and then turned from Egfrid to talk to her husband. The soft damp nose of the young hound came pushing into the boy's hand for food again and with a sigh, he took a titbit from the table and fed it.

The feast rolled on, as jugglers performed in the space behind the fire. Acrobats walked on their hands and danced to the rhythm of drums, followed by a girl with trained dogs that jumped through hoops and twisted through her legs. This act caused something of a commotion, for the creatures' antics set the hunting hounds baying.

At last the girl, her dogs and the hunting hounds were all shooed out of the hall, growling and snatching meat bones as they passed. Egfrid looked for the friendly pup, but he seemed to have gone with the rest.

The hall grew quieter when they'd gone, and Penda
sat
back in his carved wooden chair and stroked his beard. He looked thoughtfully across at Egfrid, and then suddenly called forward the warriors who'd ridden north with him. They received gifts, gold armbands, rings and brooches—rewards for their loyalty and support.

‘Shall we summon the songsters and fetch the harp-stool?' Beorn asked when the gift-giving came to an end.

‘Not yet,' Penda said. ‘I have something important to say. One more gift to bestow.'

Beorn looked somewhat surprised, but he stood up at once and beat the hilt of his meat knife loudly on a bronze platter to call for silence. All faces turned to the king.

‘My dear wife Cynewise has begged a boon of me,' Penda announced. ‘And I am minded to grant her wish, for no king could have a more wise and loyal queen.' He turned towards Egfrid and said, ‘Step forward, Oswy's boy!'

The feasters turned to stare and Egfrid's stomach lurched. He wished he hadn't eaten quite so much for suddenly he felt sick. Chad put a protective hand on Egfrid's shoulder.

‘
You too, holy man,' the king said, seeing the gesture. ‘And bring the little nurse-maid too!'

Annis paled, but she bravely got up and led the way around the table, so that all three of them stood at the front of the dais.

Penda and Cynewise both rose from their seats, the queen taking the king's arm to help him.

‘Stand by me, boy,' the king said.

Egfrid glanced nervously for a hidden weapon, but the old warrior's gnarled palm appeared empty. Feeling there was no choice, he obediently went to stand by the king.

‘I ask you, holy man of Bernicia, and my companions to bear witness to what I now do,' Penda said.

Egfrid feared that his throat might be cut, but instead he found that Penda laid a hand gently on his head and spoke the most astonishing words. ‘I, Penda, King of Mercia do take Egfrid, Prince of Bernicia to be my foster-son.'

There came an audible gasp from all who watched. Egfrid blinked, thinking this must be some foolish dream.

‘I will treat this boy as I would my own son,' the king finished, formally. ‘By Woden, I do swear it!'

Annis and Chad glanced at each other and then stared back at the king in amazement.

‘
Do you, holy man, bear witness to this honourable oath?' Penda asked.

‘I do,' Chad said quickly.

There was another moment of stunned silence, and then cheering broke out. Egfrid caught the eye of the woman Fritha, who sat near the fire looking clean and tidy. She nodded secretively and smiled.

The feasters hammered their knives on the wooden trestles, for it seemed the king's generous gesture had met with their approval.

Cynewise kissed Egfrid on both cheeks. ‘Now we are kin by foster vows,' she said. ‘And I am your foster-mother.'

‘Thank you,' Egfrid whispered, for he knew that she was to thank for this. No great king could ever kill his foster-son.

‘Tell the bard to sing of what he's witnessed,' Penda ordered.

Everyone sat down and Egfrid returned to his seat, feeling dazed. Had this really happened and what did it mean? Was he still a hostage?

The bard came forward, searching quickly to find words to praise this unexpected turn of events. After a moment he struck the strings of his harp and looked up with a confident smile.

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