I just need more time, he told himself as he lengthened his stride.I need to weather this.
A scene greeted him when he emerged from the trees.
Cerdic and Lora stood together near the well. She was giggling and flicking sudsy water at him, while he grinned and tried to catch her.
Aldfrith’s step faltered; he was intruding.
But they had not seen him. The couple had eyes only for each other. Lora squealed and tried to dodge past Cerdic as he made another grab for her. He caught her around the waist and pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply.
Aldfrith halted. Of course.I must be the last person in the tower to realize.His thoughts had turned inward of late; he had barely noticed the warming of the weather or the turning of the season. And all the while Cerdic and Lora had been falling in love.
No wonder Cerdic smiled more of late. No wonder Lora’s eyes shone.
Aldfrith watched them, noted the way Lora melted against the warrior, how he placed a possessive hand in the small of her back.
He knew Cerdic’s story, of the loss he had suffered. The warrior had dedicated himself to serving the king afterward, had shunned any emotional attachment. But meeting Lora had changed him.
He’s a braver man than me.
And yet a sliver of jealousy wormed its way into Aldfrith’s heart. If there was hope for Cerdic, could there not be hope for him too?
Aldfrith clenched his jaw and walked across the yard, giving the couple a wide berth. No, he would not relent.
“Sire, I would speak to you a moment.”
Aldfrith glanced up from where he was playing his harp, his fingers stilling. The sound of the lament he had been playing cut off.
Bishop Wilfrid, seated to his left, was watching him with an expectant expression. Aldfrith forced himself not to frown. Wilfrid had taken to visiting Bebbanburg so regularly these days that he spent far more time at the fort than at his home in Inhrypum, where his bishopric was based.
He was a trying presence in the Great Tower, for he brought a huge retinue with him on each visit and required four alcoves for himself and his servants.
Wilfrid was still not content with his lot and wished to extend his land farther afield. Aldfrith sensed this was what the bishop was about to raise with him now. It was all he talked of these days.
“What is it, Father?”
Wilfrid frowned, perhaps catching the sharpness in the king’s tone. “Cuthbert’s passing has left a gulf that needs to be filled, sire. Is there any word on who will be appointed the new prior?”
Aldfrith reached for his cup of wine and took a sip, letting the bishop wait before he answered. “A monk named Eadberht has come to my attention. I’m considering him for the position.”
Wilfrid’s mouth puckered. “Eadberht of Dùn Bàrr?”
“Aye, that is the man.”
“But he is a northerner, sire.”
Aldfrith favored him with a tight smile. “Aye, as am I.”
The bishop clasped his bony hands before him, his dark brows knitting together. “Milord … I have overseen Lindisfarena over these past months.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Wilfrid’s frown deepened at this, but he continued nonetheless. “I have ensured their northern habits have been tempered with my influence—of Roman ways. They were hesitant at first, but they will accept the new order soon enough.”
Aldfrith reached for a cup of wine, took a large gulp, and swallowed. “Lindisfarena is a holy place, and I will not have everything Cuthbert worked for tampered with,” he replied coldly. “A man like Eadberht will respect it.”
Wilfrid drew himself up. “And you think I won’t?”
“I think you’re best to focus on Inhrypum. Another will become prior of Lindisfarena.”
