The burg, surrounded by a wooden palisade, had a new, fresh look, as if the town had recently been built. They rode in upon a bright, windy spring morning. The scent of spring bulbs laced the air and birdsong surrounded them.
A narrow river, named the Jed Water, cut its path through the town. Osana spied men fishing on the banks. They turned, their faces curious, watching the party trot in through the gates.
Osana tensed at the sight of them before forcing herself to relax.
No one knows me here,she reminded herself. I left my shame behind me in Bebbanburg.
She glanced over at where Cerdic rode next to her. “I thought Jedworth was older than this,” she admitted. “It looks as if folk just settled here.”
“Much of Jedworth was burned to the ground by the Picts,” Cerdic explained. “The warlord Bridei and his men were trying to provoke King Ecgfrith into war by raiding deep into his territory.”
Osana shook her head. “Well, they succeeded. I heard the king even went against Cuthbert’s advice.”
Cerdic snorted a laugh. “Aye … Ecgfrith couldn’t see straight where Bridei was concerned. The Pict fostered at Bebbanburg as a lad, and there was bad blood between them. Ecgfrith wanted vengeance at all costs; in the end, it was his undoing.”
Osana gazed around her, surprised at the news that the Picts had been so bold as to raid this far south. No wonder the king had been enraged. Although Jedworth sat in the heart of the borderlands between the two kingdoms, it was clearly an Angle settlement.
The party of riders made their way up an unpaved street to a large open space, flanked on one side by the ealdorman’s hall. This too had been recently rebuilt; the hall boasted a pristine thatched roof and a golden timber frame that had not yet been darkened by the seasons.
A circle of stalls ringed the wide space. Vendors filled it, hawking spring greens, fresh meat, and bread. Women wandered amongst the stalls, wicker baskets under their arms. Many of them were smiling as they chatted to the stall owners.
Osana watched them, envy rising within her. These women appeared to have simple lives, the kind of life she had always wanted. However, as the wives of cottars, merchants, and craftsmen, their lives would likely not be easy. They would work hard and bear many children. Still, Osana envied them all the same.
“Do you know where your aunt lives?” Cerdic asked her.
Osana shook her head. “I never visited her here.”
The warrior pulled up his horse and dismounted. “I’ll be back shortly.”
Osana watched him stride over to one of the stalls, where a florid-faced man sold live geese, ducks, and fowl. The honking, quacking, and clucking coming from the pen next to him was deafening. Cerdic spoke briefly with the vendor before nodding briskly and returning to his horse.
“Did you find out where she lives?” Osana asked.
“Aye,” he replied with a wry smile. “It appears your aunt is well known in Jedworth … by all accounts, she is a woman with a strong character.”
Osana frowned at this news, apprehension fluttering in her belly. The last time she had seen Hagona, she had found her acerbic. Her aunt had never wedded. Even as a young woman, she had been a force to be reckoned with. And now that Osana was about to be reunited with her, she wondered at the wisdom of coming here.
I had no choice. It was either here … or a nunnery.
They left the market square and rode to the northern edge of town, to where a low timber building sat just a few feet from the palisade that ringed the town. A carefully tended garden surrounded the dwelling, as did a scattering of outbuildings. Fowl scratched in the dirt, and a goat, tethered outside one of the sheds, bleated as they approached.
Osana’s gaze alighted upon the small figure kneeling in the center of the vegetable plot. The woman worked deftly, pulling out weeds from around onions.
The woman glanced up, upon hearing the thud of approaching hooves. It had been a while since Osana had seen Hagona. She was her mother's eldest sister, and in her youth was said to have been a beauty. Yet the years had not been kind to her. She looked like a sinewy old fowl. Her face was gaunt, her mouth bitter. Her once thick brown hair was now completely grey.
Hagona watched the party of riders and her gaze narrowed. “Wes hal,” she greeted them, although there was no warmth in her voice, only suspicion.
Cerdic drew up his horse. “Good morning … are you Hagona?”
The woman nodded curtly. “Who wants to know?”
Osana spoke up then. There was little point in letting Cerdic speak on her behalf. “Good day, aunt. Do you remember me?”
Hagona went still. Those hazel eyes—so similar to Osana’s mother’s—shifted to her. “Osana?”
“Aye … it’s been a long while, has it not?”
The woman nodded. “What brings you here, girl? Where’s that brute you married?”
