Kings of War (The Brunanburh Series) by MJ Porter

Author:MJ Porter [Porter, MJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books
Published: 2023-07-11T23:00:00+00:00

30

937, BRUNANBURH, THE KINGDOM OF THE ENGLISH

Constantin, king of the Scots

I don’t trust Olaf Gothfrithson. I know it, and so does he. Allies and enemies are far too easy to interchange at will. He might be married to my beloved daughter, but that doesn’t make him my son. Not yet.

The jumped-up little upstart appears to have forgotten who I am and has overlooked that I’ve almost as many links to the petty kingdoms of his homeland as he does. I was raised in Dublin following my father’s untimely death, which coincided with my ill-omened birth. I’ve allies there. Probably ones Olaf doesn’t even know about. One of my sons, Cellach, is half-Irish.

Olaf’s kingdom, Dublin, is a tiny part of Tara, or Ireland as many now name it. Amongst his allies, he might count the king of the Islands and the son of the king of Denmark. He might also try and suggest that the king of Limerick, Olaf Scabbyhead, is also his ally. But we all know Olaf’s his prisoner, forced to bring his men to fight for Olaf Gothfrithson, for fear that their lord might die before we can reach the battle sight if not.

I might have only one ally, but at least I know Owain of Strathclyde. I know he’s mostly a harmless fool. And a coward.

And really, Owain’s not my only ally, for I have my sons and grandsons with me. I trust them implicitly. They’ve no cause to work against me, for if I die here, there’s no assurance that any of them will be king after me. Mael Coluim would claim the kingdom, just as I took it from his father. As is the way of our people.

The kingship of the kingdom of the Scots doesn’t function in the way of the English kingdom. Just because my sons and grandsons are royally born doesn’t automatically make them throne worthy, as the English decree the sons of kings. No, my successor has been nipping at my heels ever since my accession, my cousin Mael Coluim. For the first time in our long years together, I’ve left him behind to govern in my absence. He eyes my impending death with relish. And that’s all to the good because the more he wants my kingdom, the more my sons and grandsons work to keep me alive.

And some of them have already fought against Athelstan. When Athelstan shot through my lands, his forces more akin to the Viking raiders than the sedate English king I see before me today, with his massive tents and masses of supply wagons, my sons and grandsons raced to counter his actions. I count myself lucky that they survived the encounters with the English force. Well, all of them apart from one grandson. I will mourn my lost grandson, Amlaib, for the rest of my life. Why, I think, did I get so many winters and he so few?

Ildulb is the son with the greatest hatred for Athelstan, and he’s the son I’m trusting

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