Death of Kings_ A Novel - Bernard Cornwell [74]
‘Do you doubt his word, lord King?’ I asked.
‘While my mother says you can’t be trusted.’
I laughed at that. Ælswith, Alfred’s wife, had always hated me, and it was a mutual feeling. ‘Your mother has never approved of me,’ I said mildly.
‘And Beocca tells me you want to kill my children,’ he spoke resentfully.
‘That isn’t my decision, lord King,’ I said, and he looked surprised. ‘Your father,’ I explained, ‘should have slit Æthelwold’s throat twenty years ago, but he didn’t. Your worst enemies, lord King, aren’t the Danes. They’re the men closest to you who want your crown. Your illegitimate children will be a problem for your legitimate sons, but it isn’t my problem. It’s yours.’
He shook his head. This was our first moment alone together since his father’s death. I knew he liked me, but he was also nervous of me. He had only ever known me as a warrior and, unlike his sister, he had never been close to me as a child. He said nothing for a while, but watched the small army file westwards beneath us, its banners bright in the sun. The land gleamed from all the rain. ‘They’re not illegitimate,’ he finally spoke softly. ‘I married Ecgwynn. I married her in a church, before God.’
‘Your father disagreed,’ I said.
Edward shuddered, ‘He was angry. So was my mother.’
‘And Ealdorman Æthelhelm, lord King?’ I asked. ‘He can’t be happy that his daughter’s children won’t be the eldest.’
His jaw tightened. ‘He was assured I didn’t marry,’ he said distantly.
So Edward had surrendered to his parents’ anger. He had agreed to the fiction that his children by Lady Ecgwynn were bastards, but it was apparent that he was unhappy with that surrender. ‘Lord,’ I said, ‘you’re king now. You can raise the twins as your legitimate children. You’re king.’
‘I offend Æthelhelm,’ he asked plaintively, ‘and how long do I stay king?’ Æthelhelm was the wealthiest of Wessex’s nobles, the most powerful voice in the Witan, and a man much liked in the kingdom. ‘My father always insisted that the Witan could make or unmake a king,’ Edward said, ‘and my mother insists I listen to their advice.’
‘You’re the eldest son,’ I said, ‘so you’re king.’
‘Not if Æthelhelm and Plegmund refuse to support me,’ Edward said.
‘True,’ I agreed grudgingly.
‘So the twins must be treated as though they’re illegitimate,’ he said, still unhappy, ‘and stay bastards until I have the power to decree otherwise. And till then they must be kept safe, so they’re going to my sister’s care.’
‘To my care,’ I said flatly.
‘Yes,’ he said. He looked at me searchingly. ‘So long as you promise not to kill them.’
I laughed. ‘I don’t kill babies, lord King. I wait till they grow up.’
‘They must grow up,’ he said, then frowned. ‘You don’t condemn me for sin, do you?’
‘Me! I’m your pagan, lord,’ I said, ‘what do I care about sin?’
‘Then care for my children,’ he said.
‘I will, lord King,’ I promised.
‘And tell me what I do about Æthelred,’ he said.
I stared down at my cousin’s troops, who rode together as the rearguard. ‘He wants to be King of Mercia,’ I said, ‘but he knows he needs Wessex’s support if he’s to survive, so he won’t take the throne without your permission, and you won’t give that.’
‘I won’t,’ Edward said. ‘But my mother insists I need his support too.’
That wretched woman, I thought. She had always liked Æthelred and disapproved of her daughter. Yet what she said was partly true. Æthelred could bring at least a thousand men to a battlefield, and if Wessex were ever to strike against the powerful Danish lords to the north, then those men would be invaluable, but as I had told Alfred a hundred times, it was always best to reckon that Æthelred would find a thousand excuses to keep his warriors at home. ‘So what is Æthelred asking of you?’
Edward did not answer directly. Instead he looked up at the sky, then westwards again. ‘He hates you.’
‘And your sister,’ I said flatly.
He nodded. ‘He wants Æthelflaed returned to…’ he began,