Death of Kings_ A Novel - Bernard Cornwell [90]
‘He gave her the cave at Buchestanes?’
‘It’s his land, so yes.’
‘And she tells folk what he wants them to hear?’
Offa hesitated, always a sign that whatever answer was required needed a little more money. I sighed and placed another coin on the table. ‘She speaks his words,’ Offa confirmed.
‘So what’s she saying now?’ I asked, and he hesitated again. ‘Listen,’ I went on, ‘you wizened piece of goat gristle, I’ve paid enough. So tell me.’
‘She’s saying that a new king of the south will arise in the north.’
‘Æthelwold?’
‘They’ll use him,’ Offa said bleakly. ‘He is, after all, the rightful King of Wessex.’
‘He’s a drunken idiot.’
‘When did that make a man unfit to be king?’
‘So the Danes will use him to placate the Saxons,’ I said, ‘then kill him.’
‘Of course.’
‘Then why wait?’
‘Because Sigurd is sick, because the Scots are threatening Cnut’s land, because the stars aren’t aligned propitiously.’
‘So Ælfadell can only tell men to wait for the stars?’
‘She’s saying that Eohric will be King of the Sea, that Æthelwold will be King of Wessex, and that all the great lands of the south will be given to the Danes.’
‘King of the Sea?’
‘Just a fancy way of saying that Sigurd and Cnut won’t take Eohric’s throne. They worry that he’ll ally himself with Wessex.’
‘And Erce?’
‘Is she as beautiful as men say?’ he asked.
‘You haven’t seen her?’
‘Not in her cave.’
‘Where she’s naked,’ I said and Offa sighed. ‘She is more than beautiful,’ I said.
‘So I hear. But she’s a mute. She can’t speak. Her mind is touched. I don’t know if she’s mad, but she is like a child. A beautiful, dumb, half-mad child who drives men wholly mad.’
I thought about that. I could hear the sound of blades on blades outside the hall, the sound of steel hammering linden-wood shields. My men were practising. All day, every day, men rehearse warfare, using sword and shield, axe and shield, spear and shield, readying themselves for the day when they must face Danes who practise just as much. That day, it seemed, was being delayed by Sigurd’s bad health. We should attack instead, I thought, but to invade northern Mercia I needed troops from Wessex, and Edward had been advised by the Witan to keep Britain’s fragile peace.
‘Ælfadell is dangerous,’ Offa interrupted my thoughts.
‘An old woman babbling her master’s words?’
‘And men believe her,’ he said, ‘and men who believe they know fate do not fear risk.’
I thought of Sigurd’s foolhardy attack on the bridge at Eanulfsbirig and knew Offa was right. The Danes might be waiting to attack, but all the time they were hearing magical prophecies that told them they would win. And rumours of those prophecies were spreading through the Saxon lands. Wyrd bi ful ræd. I had an idea, and opened my mouth to speak, then thought better of it. If a man wants to keep a secret then Offa was the last man to tell because he made his living betraying other men’s secrets. ‘You were about to speak, lord?’ he asked.
‘What do you hear about the Lady Ecgwynn?’ I asked.
He looked surprised. ‘I thought you knew more about her than I do.’
‘I know she died,’ I said.
‘She was frivolous,’ Offa said disapprovingly, ‘but very lovely. Elfin.’
‘And married?’
He shrugged. ‘I hear a priest performed a ceremony, but there was no contract between Edward and her father. Bishop Swithwulf’s no fool! He refused to allow it. So was the marriage legal?’
‘If a priest performed it.’
‘Marriage requires a contract,’ Offa said sternly. ‘They weren’t two peasants humping like pigs in a mud-floored hut, but a king and a bishop’s daughter. Of course there must be a contract, and a bride-price! Without those? It’s just a royal rut.’
‘So the children are illegitimate?’
‘That’s what the Witan of Wessex says, so it must be true.’
I smiled. ‘They’re sickly children,’ I lied, ‘and most unlikely to live.’
Offa could not hide his interest. ‘Truly?’
‘Æthelflaed can’t persuade the boy to suckle his wet nurse,’ I lied again, ‘and the girl is frail. Not that it matters if they