Death of Kings_ A Novel - Bernard Cornwell [87]
‘Who says you’re my chaplain?’ I asked.
‘King Edward. I’m his gift to you.’ He smiled beatifically, then made a sign of the cross towards me. ‘Blessings on you, lord.’
‘Why did Edward send you?’ I asked.
‘I suspect, lord, because he has a sense of humour. Or,’ he frowned, thinking, ‘perhaps because he dislikes me. Except I don’t think he does, in fact he doesn’t dislike me at all, he’s very fond of me, though he believes I need to learn discretion.’
‘You’re indiscreet?’
‘Oh, lord, I am so many things! A scholar, a priest, an eater of cheese, and now I am chaplain to Lord Uhtred, the pagan who slaughters priests. That’s what they tell me. I’d be eternally grateful if you refrained from slaughtering me. May I have a servant, please?’
‘A servant?’
‘To wash things? To do things? To look after me? A maid would be a blessing. Something young with nice breasts?’
I was grinning by then. It was impossible not to like Saint Cuthbert the Unnecessary. ‘Nice breasts?’ I asked sternly.
‘If it pleases you, lord. I was warned you were more likely to slaughter me, to make me into a martyr, but I would much prefer breasts.’
‘Are you really a priest?’ I asked him.
‘Oh indeed, lord, I am. You can ask Bishop Swithwulf! He made me a priest! He laid his hands on me and said all the proper prayers.’
‘Swithwulf of Hrofeceastre?’ I asked.
‘The very same. He’s my father and he hates me!’
‘Your father?’
‘My spiritual father, yes, not my real father. My real father was a stonemason, bless his little hammer, but Bishop Swithwulf educated me and raised me, God bless him, and now he detests me.’
‘Why?’ I asked, already suspecting the answer.
‘I’m not allowed to say, lord.’
‘Say it anyway, you’re indiscreet.’
‘I married King Edward to Bishop Swithwulf’s daughter, lord.’
So the twins who were now in Æthelflaed’s care were legitimate, a fact that would upset Ealdorman Æthelhelm. Edward was pretending otherwise in case the Witan of Wessex decided to offer the throne elsewhere, and the evidence of his first marriage had been sent to my care.
‘God, you’re a fool,’ I said.
‘So the bishop tells me. Saint Cuthbert the Foolish? But I was a friend of Edward, and he begged me, and she was a delightful little thing. So pretty,’ he sighed.
‘She had nice breasts?’ I asked sarcastically.
‘They were like two young fawns, lord,’ he said earnestly.
I’m sure I gaped at him. ‘Two young fawns?’
‘The holy scriptures describe perfect breasts as being like two young fawns, lord. I have to say I’ve researched the matter thoroughly,’ he paused to consider what he had just said, then nodded approval, ‘very thoroughly! Yet still the similarity escapes me, and who am I to question the holy scriptures?’
‘And now,’ I said, ‘everyone is saying the marriage never happened.’
‘Which is why I can’t tell you that it did,’ Cuthbert said.
‘But it did,’ I said, and he nodded. ‘So the twin babies are legitimate,’ I went on, and he nodded again. ‘Didn’t you know Alfred would disapprove?’ I asked.
‘Edward wanted the marriage,’ he said simply and seriously.
‘And you’re sworn to silence?’
‘They threatened to send me to Frankia,’ he said, ‘to a monastery, but King Edward preferred I came to you.’
‘In hope that I’d kill you?’
‘In hope, lord, that you would protect me.’
‘Then for God’s sake don’t go around telling people that Edward was married.’
‘I shall keep silence,’ he promised, ‘I shall be Saint Cuthbert