Lora’s hopeful smile faded. “Do you not like it?”
“It’s lovely,” Osana replied. “I’m just preoccupied … that’s all. Aldfrith and I should be wed by now. I’m starting to think it’ll never happen.”
Lora snorted. “Nonsense. The king wants you, and he'll have you. Don't worry about those scheming men. Long have they wanted to exert control over the king. But you saw Aldfrith earlier; he will not have it.”
Osana had, and that worried her too. “What if he ruins his relationship with the ealdormen over me?”
“And what relationship would that be?” Lora replied, her gaze narrowing. “As I see it, there’s no relationship to be salvaged. It’s up to Aldfrith to forge a new one. Don't let their disapproval ruin your joy.” Lora’s brow smoothed then. “Plus there’s nothing wrong with having to wait a little … it’s given me time to ready a dress for you. The other women are out there decorating the hall, and the cook’s baking a huge hare pie for the feast. I know you want to wed immediately, but what difference does one day make?”
“Little, I hope,” Osana replied. The churning in her belly had now ceased; Lora’s practicality never failed to make her feel better. Her friend had spoken true. It was the king’s word that mattered here, not that of his ealdormen. He had done right to respond harshly.
Even so, she would be happy when the wait was over.
The two women sat on low stools inside an alcove. This space, which had until earlier today been occupied by a thegn and his wife, lay just a few feet from the king’s quarters. Osana would spend tonight in here, and then after she and Aldfrith wed, this alcove would go to Lora and Cerdic.
Osana watched Lora for a long moment. Her friend was examining the hem of the dress, in the light of the cresset that burned on the stone wall beside her. Curiosity rose within Osana. Ever since she had returned, her head had been filled with thoughts of her own handfasting; she had not had time to speak to Lora about what had happened in her life during Osana’s absence.
“It warms my heart to see you happy with Cerdic,” she said eventually. “When I left, I feared you had closed your heart to him.”
Lora glanced up and smiled. “I almost had. I know I sometimes act as if I don’t have a care in the world … but that isn’t the truth. Of late I’ve grown mistrustful of others. I was angry with you for leaving and not taking me with you. I felt abandoned here. All I saw before me was a life of drudgery, and having to fight off the advances of men every night until I was too old and wrinkled to warrant their attention.” Lora broke off here, plucking at a loose thread on the gown. A blush suddenly stained her cheeks. “But upon his return from Jedworth, Cerdic came to me.”
Osana smiled. “I'm glad he did. Will you be wed?”
Lora glanced up. “Our handfasting is planned for just before Winterfylleth. It’s a good time of year to be wed.”
Osana rose from her stool and crossed to where her friend sat. She then knelt down so that their gazes were level. Reaching out, she took hold of Lora’s hand. “True friends are rare,” she said softly. “I’m sorry I left you here, although now I see it was for the best. You would have hated my aunt anyway … Hagona has a good heart, but she’s as prickly as a hedgehog.”
Lora chuckled. “Aye, and Cerdic might not have worked up the courage to approach me otherwise.” She placed her free hand over Osana’s and squeezed tightly. “Now, enough of this talk … you’ll have me weeping in a moment. We have a mountain of things to organize before your handfasting. I’ve picked a selection of flowers from the meadows. They’re sitting in jugs of water so they don’t wilt. You need to choose which ones you’ll wear in your hair.”
Chapter Thirty-one
My Bride Awaits
CERDIC RETURNED FROM Inhrypum in the early afternoon the following day. He cantered into the inner palisade upon a lathered horse, the priest Oswald perched behind him. The other members of Cerdic’s party thundered in moments later.
Oswald's face was pinched and tired. He looked as if Cerdic had made him ride through the night, which he probably had in order to get to Inhrypum and back in this time.
Aldfrith stood at the top of the steps before the Great Tower and waited for the priest to dismount. Oswald did so, wincing as his sandaled feet hit the ground. Straightening up and brushing off his dark robes, Oswald’s gaze traveled to where the king stood watching him.
The priest’s brow furrowed.
Not bothering to say a word to Cerdic, Oswald picked up the hem of his robes and hurried across the yard, head bowed, before mounting the steps. Cerdic tossed his reins to one of the other men and strode after him.
“Milord.” Oswald stopped a few feet below where the king stood and gave a hurried bow. Aldfrith could see he was bristling, indignant.
“Good day, Oswald,” Aldfrith replied with a smile. “I take it that Cerdic has told you why you’ve been summoned back to Bebbanburg so urgently.”
Oswald nodded, his throat bobbing. It was clear he held a strong opinion about this, which he was wisely keeping to himself.
The priest was no fool. Over the past years, he had skulked in Wilfrid’s shadow whenever the bishop visited the fort, often appearing his disciple. But without his mentor at his side, he was less brave. He knew his place, and Aldfrith was grateful for it; he was tired of being constantly challenged.
Relations with the ealdormen Wulfred and Edwin had been frosty ever since his return. They had both tried to heckle him over his lack of interest in rebuilding Northumbria’s army during supper the night before. His calmness and accompanying stubbornness had riled them both. However, he knew it would not be the end of the matter.
It seemed his ealdormen were only too eager to warmonger, but Aldfrith would have no part in it.
Before the king, Oswald bowed his head, his shoulders rounding. He was not a happy man, yet he was ready to do the king’s bidding.
“Come, Oswald,” Aldfrith ordered gently. “My bride awaits.”
