A few feet away, Cerdic got to his feet, blood streaming from his nose. Wulfred of Catraeth did not rise. He lay curled up, hands cupping a bloodied mouth.
Aldfrith turned to his captain. “Cerdic, see to it that these two men are stripped naked, tied over the back of their horses, and driven out of Bebbanburg. Send word to Gefrin and Catraeth that they are in need of new ealdormen, for these two men no longer hold that rank.”
Cerdic nodded, pinching his bleeding nose. “I will see it done, sire,” he replied, his voice muffled.
Osana felt the priest’s grip on her arm release. Like her, he realized the danger had passed; Aldfrith had taken control of the situation. A respectful silence now filled the hall.
Cerdic and his men closed in on the two former ealdormen, hauling them to their feet. Around them the crowd opened, creating a passageway to the doors. Pallid and wild-eyed, Wulfred and Edwin struggled against their captors, their howls of rage and curses echoing for a long while after their departure.
Aldfrith turned to his remaining warriors, who had now formed a protective horseshoe around the king. “Get the bishop to his feet.”
Wilfrid groaned as two men hauled him upright. A purple welt now showed on his jaw where Aldfrith had struck him, and his gaze was glazed.
“You’re an ambitious fool, Father,” Aldfrith said after a long pause, regret shadowing the coolness in his voice. “Edwin played you like a lyre, used you as his weapon, and you never saw it.”
The bishop sagged in the warriors’ arms, and seeing the desolation on his face, Osana almost felt sorry for him. A moment later she remembered how he had treated her, how he would have had her killed if it had served his purpose, and her pity faded.
“Forgive me, sire,” he rasped.
“I will, in time,” Aldfrith replied. “But that does not mean I will suffer your presence in my kingdom any longer. Bishop Wilfrid, you are exiled. Take your leave of this hall, and be gone from Northumbria, never to return.”
Wilfrid blanched, his eyes bulging. “Milord, I—”
“That is all,” Aldfrith cut him off, his voice sharp. “Another word, and you shall suffer the same fate as the ealdormen.”
Wilfrid’s mouth worked, yet no sound came out this time. Silently, he allowed the warriors to lead him from the hall.
A shocked hush followed in his wake. All gazes swiveled back to the king once the bishop had departed. Osana watched their faces, her own shock mirroring theirs. She too had never seen this side to Aldfrith. It both impressed and frightened her.
Did she know the man she was to wed at all?
Aldfrith turned from the crowd and stepped back up onto the high seat, sheathing the seax in his belt as he did so. His gaze, when it met hers, was of the man she had come to know and love. The cold fury of earlier had gone.
“Aldfrith,” she whispered. “I …” Her voice trailed off. She was not sure what to say.
His mouth quirked, and his eyes shadowed. “I’m sorry you had to see that, my love,” he replied, regret edging his voice. “It seems I have far more of my father in me than I thought.”
“And we are glad of it, sire,” Oswald spoke up nervously. “The bishop went too far … and Edwin had to be stopped.”
“Aye,” Aldfrith replied, his gaze never leaving Osana’s face. “But I see the fear in my bride’s eyes.” He stepped closer to her, and, reaching out, took Osana’s hand. “Your skin is so cold.” His gaze narrowed. “Are you well?”
Osana wet her lips before nodding. “I’m in shock … that’s all.”
He gazed into her eyes and gently squeezed her hand. “After all you’ve just witnessed, do you still want me?”
The question was asked with a light tone, yet she saw the aching tenderness, the concern in his gaze. He really was worried she would no longer want to wed him.
Osana raised an eyebrow. “Do you believe me to be so fickle?” She paused then, searching for the right words before continuing. “You forget … I was wed to a warrior for many years. I know what men are capable of … what they have to do to survive. Edwin forced your hand. You had to fight or die.” They watched each other for a long moment before Osana smiled. “They all underestimated you though … a mistake no one will make again.”
Aldfrith huffed. “Is that respect I hear in your voice? It seems I should have used my fists to settle quarrels years ago.”
Osana’s smile widened. She did not want to admit it, but there was something magnetic about the way he had handled himself. “You make me sound shallow,” she admonished him softly. “I already respected you. I love you, Aldfrith.”
Aldfrith smiled then, an intimate, beguiling smile that made Osana’s belly flutter.
A few feet away, the priest cleared his throat. “Sorry for the interruption, sire … but you are not yet man and wife. I didn’t get the chance to complete the ceremony.”
Aldfrith glanced Oswald’s way, his smile fading. “Very well … let us pick up where we left off.” He shifted his attention back to Osana. “If the lady is willing?”
