The First King of England by Stuart Hill

Author:Stuart Hill
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781472951755
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2019-11-24T00:00:00+00:00

XI

On our way back to Tamworth we make a detour to the village where we left the housecarles and return together to find the city quiet. Without the Lady Aethelflaed and the army, the place seems somehow deflated. The streets are still busy and the small shops and stalls are doing brisk business, but there isn’t the same sense of energy and purpose that usually fills the settlement when the Lady of the Mercians is at home and overseeing the running of the kingdom.

We quickly settle back into our usual routine and wait as impatiently as everyone else for news of the attack on the Northumbrian Vikings. But all stays quiet with no messengers and no reports of any sort for days.

But then at last on a bright sunny morning a rider clatters into the palace precinct and we all rush out to see who it is. With Lord Ethelred too ill to receive messengers, the rider asks for Athelstan and when he’s pointed out the man hurries over to where we stand among a throng of chamberlains and officials of the royal household. He hands over a small roll of parchment and Athelstan breaks the seal and reads it quickly. He sighs with relief and smiles and then nods at the messenger who immediately turns to the small crowd that is continuing to gather in the palace precinct.

“VICTORY! WE HAVE A GREAT VICTORY OVER THE ENEMY! THE LADY AETHELFLAED AND KING EDWARD HAVE BROUGHT THE DANISH ARMY LOW AND DRIVEN THEM OVER THE LAND LIKE SHEEP!”

I listen as the cheer that begins at the palace flows down into Tamworth like a river in spate. Soon the sound washes back and breaks like a huge wave over us as we all laugh and hug each other. But over by the palace wall I see a dark figure with ravens. She stands quietly and I somehow know that the work has only just begun.

“So, Athelstan, I hear that you set free Olaf Swainson. Can this really be true?” The Lady Aethelflaed sits in her nephew’s private chamber, her war-calloused hands folded in her lap and a small smile on her lips. It’s more than three days since she returned victorious at the head of her army and she’s waited until now to question us about the disappearance of the Viking hostage.

Athelstan sits opposite her, while I hover in the background with a ewer of wine, ready to fill their drinking horns. I feel as guilty as a kitten found with its head in the cream jug, but Athelstan holds his aunt’s gaze and answers coolly, “I wasn’t prepared to see him executed, Aunt. And letting him go before he could gather too much information about our future plans for war seemed the best thing to do.”

“I see. Don’t you think it would have been better if you’d consulted both myself and your father before you took this action?”

“No. As King of Wessex, my father hates all Danes. If I’d suggested setting

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