The Lost Tales of Mercia (4 page)

At last Edward lowered his arm. He took a
deep breath and straightened his tunic. He looked around at his
wary soldiers and his cowering half-brother Ethelred, and a
dramatic change came over him. He forced a lilted smile on his
still-reddened face.“What a waste of time. We have game to
catch.”

His soldiers relaxed visibly and continued
on to their horses. Alfryth remained standing at the door of the
stronghold, chin lifted in triumph, her dark wimple fluttering in
the salty breeze. Edward cast Ethelred one last glance before
departing.

“Maybe next time, brother,” he said. But his
voice was sullen, and Ethelred did not think he expected a next
time, in truth.

Not until that moment did Ethelred
comprehend the true extent of his loss. He realized that Edward had
sincerely wanted to hunt with him. Until now, Ethelred had still
been afraid that it was all some sort of prank—or at least a way to
make Ethelred humiliate himself. He had been so desperate to join
the king and his men that he had agreed despite these instincts.
But as Edward trudged away, he actually seemed
disappointed—disappointed that Ethelred wasn’t coming along!

Despite himself, he felt tears prick his
eyes.

“Ethelred, what is wrong with you? Come
inside.”

“But Mother, I want to—”

“You don’t get to do what you want. If
you’re to be king then you’ll have to do a great many things you’d
rather not do.”

“I don’t want to be—!”

“
Silence!
I don’t care!” She grabbed
his wrist fiercely, then pulled him inside.

He was even more surprised when she led him
to his room and told him to stay there.“But I’m supposed to speak
with Ealdorman Alfhere!” he cried. Then, when she scowled at him,
his face scrunched up helplessly.“Aren’t I?”

Her expression tore between pity and
disgust.“I’ll handle him myself, son. You stay here and practice
your reading.” Then, as an afterthought,“Also, consider why your
father’s wise men chose Edward to be King over you, even though he
was not my son. Think on it long and hard.”

She slammed the door behind her, and though
the chill of winter had supposedly lifted from Engla-lond, he
shivered.

As his mother had suggested, he stayed in
his room and read. He also pondered over the matter of the
witenagemot’s decision to choose Edward over himself. He thought it
made practical sense for anyone to choose the older of the two
boys, considering how young they had been at the time, and the fact
that no one else of royal blood had been available. On top of that,
Edgar himself had said before his death that he wished Edward to
succeed him. But on the other hand, Ethelred was the son of
Alfryth, the present queen: he really should have been next in
line. He wondered whether the wise men’s choice to put Edward on
the throne had been any fault of his own. Then, filling with shame,
he remembered the story of his own baptism.

When the Archbishop Dunstan had held him
underwater and offered the holy sacrament, baby Ethelred had
defecated in the water. Dunstan had pulled him out and handed him
away, crying out with disgust.“By God,” declared the bishop,“this
will be a miserable man!” Ethelred’s ears burned with embarrassment
whenever he heard that story retold, but he also felt anger. He had
been a baby at the time. He had no control of such things.

As he stayed in his room according to his
mother’s wishes and read the Holy Gospels, he tried to gather
encouragement from them. He wondered whether everything that
happened on earth was truly God’s will. If so, what power did he or
anyone else have to change it? He thought that perhaps he was still
too young to understand; adults never seemed to question this
paradox, so surely he must be missing something. In any case, he
found it comforting to believe that his father’s witenagemot had
chosen Edward by God’s ordinance. If God orchestrated everything,
that meant the matters were no fault of his own, at all—especially
not the fault of a helpless baby.

Ethelred’s scholarly pondering helped the
time to pass, at first. But after the sun peaked and fell westward,
thrusting its last orange beams through his window, he found
himself growing restless. He looked out at the sharp hills of
Dorset, their slopes undulating with varying hues of green, brown,
and gray. He wondered what a thrill Edward must now feel, riding
with his soldiers while a hawk flew overhead and the wild pigs and
deer fled in fear. How great it must feel to be a king!

He shook his head of these thoughts,
remembering Alfryth. Sometimes, Ethelred’s own mother frightened
him, and he preferred Edward’s temper tantrums to her mysterious
ways. Why had she insisted that Ethelred stay home today? Did she
simply not want the two boys to feel like brothers? Or did she
place so little faith in Ethelred she assumed he would humiliate
himself?

Or was something else going on
altogether?

He felt a strong sense of foreboding like
cold water in his belly; but at the same time, he felt hunger. Had
the time not already passed for the night meal? He realized with
surprise that the light was waning outside, and yet no one had
summoned him to the dining hall. What was going on?

He donned a soft fur-trimmed cloak, which
always made him feel regal. He walked to the door and took a deep
breath. Perhaps it went against his mother’s wishes to leave now,
but so what? As Edward had said, what did a woman like her
understand? Feeling emboldened, he pulled open the door and strode
into the halls.

Something strange seemed to be amiss in the
Corfe-Gate stronghold, something he could not fully describe. The
servants dared to meet his eyes, then looked away with darting
glances. They shuffled about on their feet and did not gossip to
each other as usual. Something else was strange, as well. Normally
the stronghold was surrounded with royal soldiers, reeves, and
hearth companions of all the noblemen and women. But he noticed
that many familiar faces, especially those of his mother’s
retainers, were missing from their usual posts.

Briefly he wandered out to the stables,
curious whether Edward and his men had returned yet from the hunt,
for the sun was sinking behind the hills. Edward and his men had
not yet returned, he found; but even more surprisingly, a great
many more horses were gone than Edward had taken with him. A large
number of soldiers had gone somewhere. But where?

Puzzled and distraught, Ethelred remembered
the ache in his belly, and decided this needed fixing first of all.
He headed for the dining hall, hoping to find some manner of food
there. A cloud of smoke wafting through the hall doors assured him
that he must have the right idea. But to his astonishment, his
mother and several lords sat at the table, huddled closely in
heated conversation, and not a single plate of food could be found
amongst them. The smoke came only from a blazing hearth-fire.

Alfryth spotted him from afar, and motioned
to the men to cease speaking.“Ethelred,” she hissed.“I told you to
stay in your room!”

He tried to think of something clever and
bold to say, but as he stared at the intimidating faces of the
war-leaders and clergymen sitting at the table, he found his words
lacking.“But I am hungry!”

Alfryth put on a smile, though it was so
forced and fake that in a way it was worse than a scowl.“That’s
true, my boy, a growing man certainly needs his food.”

It amazed Ethelred how differently his
mother treated him when in the company of other people than when he
and she were alone together. He realized that this had always been
the case, but it was more noticeable today than ever. He wondered
whether something had changed, or whether he was simply growing
more perceptive.

Soon his mother was upon him, her sharp
nails digging into his arm as she led him outside. The wind
battered against them, cool with the coming night.“Ethelred, you
are such a little child!” She hissed this to him as soon as they
were out of the noblemen’s hearing range.

He felt as if he was on the verge of
understanding something now that he never had before, and this
feeling gave him confidence. He stared back at his mother with all
the defiance he could muster.“If you want me to act like more than
a child, then you should tell me what’s going on!”

She leaned back, the knots of her face
untwisting as her eyebrows lifted with surprise. She was silent a
moment. Then, exasperated, she declared,“Not today, Ethelred; of
all days, not today! You will be plenty involved soon enough, of
that I promise you.”

“What do you mean, soon enough?”

“For God’s sake, Ethelred, not now! Go away,
fill your little belly in the kitchens if you must!”

She hurried back inside, and when she was
gone, Ethelred remained standing awhile, huffing with anger. He
could not comprehend all the emotions roiling through him. Suddenly
he felt as if he hated his mother, though he didn’t know why, and
he silently prayed to God for forgiveness.

Then, having stood still long enough with
his eyes pointed to the horizon, he discerned a shape approaching.
It was a lone rider, charging through the gap in the hills at full
speed; and as he rounded a certain slope, Ethelred was astonished
to glimpse the gleam of a crown on his head.

“Edward!” he cried.

He ran down the slope to meet his brother,
little fists bobbing at his sides, heart pounding in his chest. He
did not even know why he ran with such urgency and yelled Edward’s
name so loudly.

Perhaps, if he had not, things would have
happened differently.

It had frustrated Ethelred that so many
events of the day had developed beyond his comprehension, and that
he felt some great significance hanging in the air, but he could
not even guess what it was. It filled him with pride that now, he
was at the forefront of this new event. Several dozen soldiers
peeked from the stronghold to see what all the fuss was about, but
Ethelred was far ahead of them. He was the first to reach the king,
who slouched strangely in his saddle, and whose brow twinkled with
sweat in the fading sunlight.

“Hail, Ethelred,” said King Edward
cheerfully, though his voice rasped. Spittle dripped from his
stallion’s mouth, the hooves of which stomped dangerously close to
Ethelred’s feet.“Have you anything to drink?”

“I ...” Ethelred patted his tunic uselessly.
He had nothing. He had not even eaten his own night meal, after
all.“I am sorry, Edward, I don’t.” He glanced back to the
stronghold, the sharp stones of which cast angry lines against the
sky from this direction, and watched as a few men marched out of
it. Someone else would provide water, surely, so he hurried to more
important concerns while he could.“What happened to your hearth
companions?”

“I’m … not sure.” Edward wiped his brow,
though it continued to drip.“I don’t know what disbanded us.
Something must have frightened them, for they disappeared suddenly
… but I would have noticed the tracks of a bear, or wolf. It’s,
ridiculous, isn’t it? A king searching for his own hearth
companions!” He laughed, but no humor was in his voice.

Ethelred considered this.“We can get my
mother’s men to find them!” He thought he was being helpful, but
Edward frowned. Then Ethelred remembered that most of his mother’s
men had been missing, anyway. He frowned as well.

“I think not, little brother.” Ethelred
began to understand his discomfort when a few soldiers from the
stronghold reached the king’s horse and surrounded it. Edward
surprised everyone by kicking a man solidly in the face who dared
seize the horse’s reins. The servant fell back with a cry,
clutching a bleeding nose.“Away, you filthy churls. Who has some
ale? That’s all I need.”

“We’ll fetch it for you,” said a man, and
Ethelred recognized him as one of his mother’s retainers named
Osrid, large and strapping. He looked the part of a soldier though
he wore none of the usual fittings, except perhaps for the
unusually large dirk strapped to his belt. Ethelred was glad to see
him go.

“Away!” Edward was continuing to kick at the
men lingering around him. At last they all backed off, but Edward
drew his sword nonetheless, a dangerous look in his eyes. His horse
pranced about uneasily, churning the rocky earth under its hooves,
twisting its neck and snorting. Ethelred found the situation very
strange and confusing. Everyone was silent as they waited, hearing
little but Edward’s snorting horse, and the hollow sound of the
wind through the hills. Ethelred thought he could even hear the
soft crashing of the waves upon the distant shore.

Everyone but Ethelred seemed to be expecting
something. Expecting what?

With some relief, he recognized Alfryth’s
shape coming down the hillside. She held a large goblet in her
slender, ringed fingers. Edward watched her approach with a scowl,
though the look on Alfryth’s face beneath the fluttering veil was
unusually sweet. She actually seemed happy to provide the king with
this refreshment. Ethelred wished she would walk faster, for it
seemed as if a great deal of time passed before she reached them,
at which point the air seemed to thrum tangibly with tension.

“Has the game eluded you?” said the queen
mother, pausing with the goblet outstretched. Meanwhile, her
servant Osrid kept walking, moving around the horse.

Edward did not answer at first, only flashed
his teeth as he put away his sword. Then he leaned over to grab the
goblet.“The hunt is still on, Lady, and it will not stop until
I—AAAGH!”

The sound that came from the king’s mouth
was so terrible, it would ring in Ethelred’s ears for decades to
come. Edward drew back, limbs flailing, clutching his side near his
back. The goblet fell to the earth, clinking against the stones and
splashing water on the horse’s hooves. The horse reared, twisting
about, and revealed a shape darting quickly from behind it.