Sometimes though—like this evening—he wondered just how well he was actually managing. Kingship was already revealing itself to be a heavy responsibility.
Aldfrith’s gaze shifted then to Cerdic, sitting to his left. This evening, as usual, his captain wore an inscrutable expression. Feeling the king’s gaze upon him, Cerdic glanced up from his trencher of venison stew. “Sire?”
Aldfrith met his eye. “Were you at the Battle of Nechtansmere, Cerdic?”
Cerdic shook his head. “Lord Ecgfrith bid me to remain here, to watch over Bebbanburg’s garrison.”
Silence fell while Aldfrith digested this information. When he spoke once more, his voice was low, thoughtful. “Do you think Ecgfrith was a good king?”
Cerdic’s brows knotted together. “He wasmyking, sire. I trusted him.”
Aldfrith took another sip of wine. “Aye … but did you approve of the way he ruled?”
Cerdic watched him, his expression wary.
Aldfrith inclined his head. “I’m not trying to trick you,” he assured the warrior. “I’m just trying to get a sense of the kind of leader my brother was.”
Cerdic snorted, although his gaze was still watchful. “Ecgfrith ruled wisely, for the most part, sire. He was a warrior and a natural leader, although he had a prickly temper … quick to anger. On some things, he could be stubborn, blinded.”
Aldfrith nodded, taking this in. He had never met his half-brother and did not even remember his own father, for Oswiu had left when Aldfrith was an infant. Yet he was curious about the man he had replaced. Although Oswald had told him a bit about his predecessor, he still felt as if there were many gaps in his knowledge.
“I wonder what folk will make of me,” he murmured, speaking almost more to himself than to anyone else. “I’m a scholar … not a warrior king.”
Cerdic smiled at that—an unexpected expression that softened his face and made him appear younger. Aldfrith realized then that the warrior was around his own age; his severity had made him appear older.
“Folk of this kingdom have seen much blood over the years, milord,” he said after a pause. “They’ll thank you for a bit of peace.”
Aldfrith watched him before nodding. Their conversation reminded him of why he liked Cerdic. The man was gruff, but there was an honesty to his words.
The king’s gaze shifted from his captain and swept over the table. He took in the faces of the others seated upon the heah-setl. His ealdormen sat nearby. These men governed Northumbria’s biggest settlements: Hagustaldes, Gefrin, Catraeth, Eoforwic, and Inhrypum.
The ealdorman of Hagustaldes sat nearest Aldfrith. He was a big, blond man named Raedwulf, a warrior with a wide smile and a booming laugh. Raedwulf’s wife sat next to him. Unlike her garrulous husband, Osana of Hagustaldes appeared a softly-spoken woman.
Aldfrith’s gaze settled upon her for a moment.
The ealdorman’s wife was quite lovely. Not in the girlish way his bride was, but with an earthier beauty. She had walnut-colored hair that she wore coiled into braids around her head—as only unwed women wore their hair unbound. He silently admired her creamy skin, expressive hazel eyes, neat features, and delicately drawn mouth. She wore a becoming green sleeveless tunic, the bronze ring upon her right arm her only adornment.
Realizing he was staring, Aldfrith tore his gaze from the ealdorman’s wife and looked down at his cup.What’s wrong with me? Staring at another man’s wife when I have just taken one of my own.
This wedding had unsettled him. He was used to solitude and peace, to spending his days in male company. Having women around him again after so long was distracting, and Aldfrith did not like the feeling. He missed the serenity and isolation of Iona—he had chosen that life for a reason.
Raedwulf of Hugustaldes had not appeared to notice the direction of Aldfrith’s gaze. He was too busy exchanging boasts with Edwin, the ealdorman of Gefrin, farther down the table. Edwin was Aldfrith’s cousin; a blond, florid-faced warrior who was around five years the king’s elder. Aldfrith had met him for the first time two days earlier and was not sure he liked him. His cousin was brash with a vaguely patronizing manner.
“I killed ten men in my first battle—and I was just a lad of fourteen winters,” Raedwulf boomed. “Could you better that?”
“Ten?” Edwin scoffed. “That’s the number you’ve slain in your entire life. I’m sure I can better that!”
Harsh male laughter echoed over the table, although Aldfrith did not join in. He felt at sea here, surrounded by warriors—men who could wield a sword before their voice broke, before the first whiskers grew on their chin. They were another breed, a class of man he did not understand or like much if he was honest.
His father had been one such man. He remembered his mother telling him so, her blue eyes filled with pain and grief.Your father is a ruler of men, a warrior. He was not meant to remain in exile with us.
“Cousin!” Edwin’s booming voice roused Aldfrith from his thoughts. “So you’ve finally joined the rest of us. A wedded man at last. Better late than never, I say!”
The ealdorman of Gefrin’s comment brought a rumble of laughter from the other ealdormen, although Raedwulf of Hagustaldes merely smirked. Next to Aldfrith, Cerdic frowned.
“Aye,” Aldfrith replied, raising his cup to Edwin, who had just downed a horn of mead. The man’s cheeks were ruddy with drink, and yet there was a belligerent look in his eyes that made Aldfrith wary. “It was time.”
Secretly he would rather have remained unwed, yet he did not share his thoughts with these men. Some opinions would only be mocked.
