Death of Kings_ A Novel - Bernard Cornwell [129]
‘Why aren’t the men of Cent here now?’ I asked. Cent was close to Lundene and in the time it had taken my men to cross and recross half of Saxon Britain the men of Cent had failed to complete a two-day march.
‘They will be here,’ Edward said, ‘I have Ealdorman Sigelf’s word.’
‘But why has he delayed?’ I insisted.
‘The enemy went to East Anglia in ships,’ Archbishop Plegmund supplied the answer, ‘and we feared they might use those ships to descend on the coast of Cent. Ealdorman Sigelf preferred to wait until he was sure that the threat was not real.’
‘And who commands our army?’ I asked, and that question caused embarrassment.
There was silence for a few heartbeats, then Archbishop Plegmund scowled. ‘Our lord King commands the army, of course,’ he said.
And who commands the king, I wondered, but said nothing. That evening Edward sent for me. It was dark when I joined him. He dismissed his servants so we were alone. ‘Archbishop Plegmund is not in charge,’ he chided me, obviously remembering my final question in the council, ‘but I find his advice is good.’
‘To do nothing, lord King?’
‘To gather all our forces before we fight. And the council agrees.’ We were in the large upper room where a great bed stood between two candle-lanterns. Edward was standing in the large window that overlooked the old city, the window where Æthelflaed and I had stood so often. It looked west towards the new city where soft firelight glimmered. Farther west it was dark, a black land. ‘The twins are safe?’ Edward asked me.
‘They’re in Cirrenceastre, lord King,’ I said, ‘so yes, they’re safe.’ The twins, Æthelstan and Eadgyth, were with my daughter and younger son, all in good hands inside Cirrenceastre, a burh that was as well defended as Cracgelad. Fagranforda had been burned as I had expected, but my people were all safe inside Cirrenceastre.
‘And the boy is in good health?’ Edward asked anxiously.
‘Æthelstan’s a lusty baby,’ I said.
‘I wish I could see them,’ he said.
‘Father Cuthbert and his wife are looking after them,’ I said.
‘Cuthbert’s married?’ Edward asked, surprised.
‘To a very pretty girl,’ I said.
‘Poor woman,’ Edward said, ‘she’ll be riddled to death by him.’ He smiled, and looked unhappy when I did not return the smile. ‘And my sister’s here?’
‘Yes, lord King.’
‘She should be looking after the children,’ he said sternly.
‘You tell her, lord King,’ I said, ‘and she’s brought you almost a hundred and fifty Mercian warriors,’ I went on. ‘Why hasn’t Æthelred sent any?’
‘He’s worried about the Irish Norsemen,’ he said, then shrugged when I made a dismissive noise. ‘Why didn’t Æthelwold go deeper into Wessex?’ he asked me.
‘Because they’re leaderless,’ I said, ‘and because no one came to his banner.’ Edward looked puzzled. ‘I think their plan was to reach Wessex, proclaim Æthelwold king, and wait for men to join them, but no one did.’
‘So what will they do?’
‘If they can’t take a burh,’ I said, ‘they’ll go back where they came from.’
Edward turned to the window. Bats flitted in the darkness, sometimes showing briefly in the light of the lanterns that lit the high room. ‘There are too many of them, Lord Uhtred,’ he said, talking of the Danes, ‘just too many. We must be sure before we attack.’
‘If you wait for certainty in war, lord King,’ I said, ‘you’ll die waiting.’
‘My father advised me to hold on to Lundene,’ he said. ‘He told me we should never relinquish the city.’
‘And let Æthelwold have the rest?’ I asked sourly.
‘He will die, but we need Ealdorman Sigelf’s men.’
‘He’s bringing seven hundred?’
‘So he promised,’ Edward said, ‘which will