Pit of Vipers (Sons of Kings Book 2) (34 page)

Hastein nodded. ‘The second?’

‘I’ve decided to join the army of the new Wessex king for a while.’ He glanced guiltily at Jorund and Aethelnoth, having not yet even disclosed his intentions to either. ‘We’ve just had news of King Aethelred’s death and Alfred’s crowning . . . and the arrival of a huge fleet of enemy reinforcements at Reading. People in Nottingham were calling it “The Great Summer Army”.’

‘Led by Guthrum, amongst others,’ Hastein supplied. ‘He’s been rallying his forces since January. He’s a sly dog, if ever there was one; on a par with Weland, in my opinion.’

Eadwulf held out his hands. ‘Which only bolsters my point that Alfred needs all the help he can get.'

‘I don’t see why that should send you running down to Wessex,’ Jorund said, glaring at his brother. ‘This is Mercia, unless you’ve forgotten. Why should Wessex be of more concern to you than here? Besides, you’re only one man. That’s hardly going to boost Alfred’s army a great deal.’

The three Danes remained silent, shuffling a little, evidently uncomfortable in the face of a possible row.

‘Mercia means more to me than you could imagine, Jorund. Our father was her king, and Aethelnoth and I spent our earliest years here.’ Chastened, Jorund hung his head. ‘King Beorhtwulf also died here – but not before he’d allied Mercia to Wessex. By then, King Aethelwulf had pledged to help Mercia when the invaders came. And Aethelwulf’s son, Aethelred, when he was king, rallied to our aid at Nottingham three years ago.’

‘So what are you saying?’

‘That we owe a debt to Wessex, brother, which that scum, Burgred, refuses to honour. He has turned down a plea for aid from a kingdom so besieged it seems likely that the enemy will subjugate it before long. And what does Burgred do? Run off and hide in Wales!’

Eadwulf’s temper had risen now and he nodded at the Danes by way of apology. Bjorn merely waved the outburst away as of little importance, although Eadwulf knew well that the enemies he denounced were Bjorn’s own countrymen.

‘What your brother is saying,’ Aethelnoth said, calmly turning to face Jorund, ‘is that he and I are ashamed that our own king is a coward, who thinks only of his own skin. He has failed Wessex miserably, and perhaps fatally, by his dishonourable response.’

‘And I feel that shame as though it were my own.’ Eadwulf looked levelly at Jorund. ‘So the least I can do is to offer Wessex my sword.’

‘Then l’m going with you,’ Aethelnoth declared.

Odella gasped as she topped up the ale mugs. ‘You would leave us all now, Aethelnoth?’ she asked, the hurt of that thought patent in her voice. Her hand inadvertently rested on her abdomen as her blue gaze met her husband’s brown.

‘Well . . . no,’ Aethelnoth said, reaching for her hand. ‘I wasn’t thinking for a moment, that’s all.’

‘I think this seems to be the appropriate place for me to interrupt, if I may.’

Bjorn’s voice broke the uncomfortable silence and all eyes fixed on him.

‘I can offer no apology for my people’s presence in your lands,’ he said, his eyes moving between Eadwulf, Aethelnoth and Jorund. ‘And the fact that they
are
here leaves us in a somewhat difficult position. Naturally, I’m concerned about my two remaining brothers, and Ivar’s death has left us with too many unanswered questions.’ At his sides, Hastein and Leif were nodding. ‘Ivar was a devious cur and, at times, downright evil. Even in our own land there are many who might have wished him dead, so I doubt we’ll ever discover who killed him.’ His eyes flicked briefly to Eadwulf, the accusation hovering between them. ‘Halfdan was always under his spell and dared not disobey him. He might have been a different person had Ivar not dominated him from birth. If Halfdan now leads this “Great Army”, I can only assume he’s learned more from Ivar than I had thought.’

Eadwulf waited, knowing that his old master had more to say.

‘But Ubbi’s a different matter,’ Bjorn eventually went on. ‘He is, perhaps, a little more like me. Raiding’s in his blood, but that’s not the reason he joined our brothers in this invasion. At first it was pure revenge for our father.’ Bjorn’s brow furrowed as he thought. ‘I imagine he got the taste for raiding after that. The last reports we had put his fleet along the south coast of Wessex . . .

‘I’ll say no more of this, though I might ask that you, also, keep the situation in these kingdoms to yourself.’ He gestured to Hastein and Leif. ‘We value your friendship too highly, Ulf, to lose it over something that none of us, at this time, are directly involved in.’

‘You’re right,’ Eadwulf said. ‘It was stupid of me to speak of it. You deserve better from me than that.’

Again Bjorn waved away Eadwulf’s apology. ‘Now, I think it’s time to reveal our reason for coming here . . .’ He paused, and Eadwulf could see he was struggling to put his thoughts into words. ‘We’ve come here to see you, Ulf, because we feel we owe it to you . . . to bring you news of something that could well change the plans we have just heard you disclose.’

‘Just get it out, Bjorn,’ Leif said grinning. ‘You sound more like Hastein today than Hastein does himself!’

The men chortled at that and Bjorn nodded. ‘Right then, here’s the thing. ‘Moored on the Trent River across your meadows is my new ship,
Sea Eagle Two.
I liked the name so much I just had to–’

‘Thor’s balls, Bjorn, get on with it. He’ll see the ship himself tomorrow . . . Well, maybe,’ he added, averting his eyes as he realised he’d said a little too much.

Bjorn shook his head. ‘Thanks, Leif. I couldn’t have got it out better myself!’

Eadwulf shrugged, by now totally confused, but also intrigued.

‘I’ve recently learned something from a very reliable source that will shock you to the core,’ Bjorn continued. ‘And when I’ve shared this with you, I’ll ask you a question.’ Eadwulf nodded. ‘I have a dozen ships waiting for me beyond the Humber, their crews all hoping we’ll soon be sailing for the Middle Sea.’

Eadwulf gaped as understanding dawned. ‘You want me to sail with you? But why?’

Bjorn grinned. ‘To find your father, Ulf. It’s possible that King Beorhtwulf is still alive. Will you come . . .?’