Death of Kings_ A Novel - Bernard Cornwell [47]
‘Revenge?’ I asked. ‘You think the Danes planned to leave us in peace?’
‘I fear attacks on Mercia,’ he said, ‘revenge attacks.’
‘Buccingahamm will be burned,’ I said, ‘but I told them all to leave the hall and go to Lundene.’
‘You did?’ he sounded surprised, then frowned. ‘Then Beornnoth’s hall will be burned too.’
I laughed at that, then touched the silver chain Osferth wore about his neck. ‘You want to wager that chain?’ I asked.
‘Why wouldn’t Sigurd burn Beornnoth’s hall?’ he asked.
‘Because Beornnoth and his son are Sigurd’s men,’ I said.
‘Beornnoth and Beortsig?’
I nodded. I had no proof, only suspicion, but Beornnoth’s lands, so close to Danish Mercia, had been left unmolested and that suggested an agreement. Beornnoth, I suspected, was too old for the troubles of continual war and so had made his peace, while his son was a bitter man and full of hatred for the West Saxons, who, in his view, had taken away Mercia’s independence. ‘I can’t prove that,’ I told Osferth, ‘but I will.’
‘Even so, lord,’ he said carefully, ‘what did we achieve?’ He gestured towards the fading glow in the sky.
‘Other than annoying Sigurd?’ I asked. I leaned on the steering oar, pushing Tyr’s Daughter to the outside of a long curve in the river. The eastern sky was luminous now, small clouds stretching bright in front of the still hidden sun. Cattle watched us pass. ‘Your father,’ I said, knowing those two words would irritate him, ‘has held the Danes at bay for my whole lifetime. Wessex is a fortress. But you know what your father wants.’
‘All the lands of the English.’
‘And you don’t get that by building a fortress. You don’t defeat the Danes by defending against them. You must attack. And your father has never attacked.’
‘He sent ships to East Anglia,’ Osferth said chidingly.
Alfred had indeed once sent an expedition to East Anglia to punish Eohric’s Danes who had raided Wessex, but Alfred’s ships had accomplished little. The West Saxons had built large ships and their keels were too deep to penetrate the rivers and Eohric’s men had simply withdrawn into shallow water, and so Alfred’s fleet had threatened and then rowed away, though the threat had been sufficient to convince Eohric to keep to the treaty between Wessex and his kingdom. ‘If we’re to unite the Saxons,’ I said, ‘it won’t be with ships. It will be with shield walls and spears and swords and slaughter.’
‘And God’s help,’ Osferth said.
‘Even with that,’ I said, ‘and your brother knows that, and your sister knows that, and they will look for someone to lead that shield wall.’
‘You.’
‘Us. That’s why we burned Sigurd’s fleet, to show Wessex and Mercia who can lead them.’ I slapped Osferth’s shoulder and grinned at him. ‘I’m tired of being called the shield of Mercia. I want to be the sword of the Saxons.’
Alfred, if he yet lived, was dying. And I had just made his ambition my own.
We took down the eagle’s head so we would not appear hostile and, under the rising sun, slid on through England.
I had been to the land of the Danes and had seen a place of sand and thin soil and though I do not doubt that the Danes have better land than any I saw, I doubt there was any better than that through which Tyr’s Daughter made her silent voyage. The river carried us past rich fields and deep woods. The current drew the trailing willow fronds downstream. Otters twisted in the water, sinuous as they fled the shadow of our hull. Warblers were loud on the banks where the first martins gathered mud for their nests. A swan hissed at us, wings spread, and my men all hissed back and found it funny. The trees were in their new green, spreading above meadows yellowed by cowslips, while bluebells hazed the passing woods. This was what brought the Danes here, not silver, not slaves, not even reputation, but earth; deep, rich, fertile earth where crops grew and a man could raise a family without fear of starvation. Small children weeded the fields and stopped to wave at us. I saw halls and villages and herds and flocks and knew this was the real wealth that drew men across the sea.