The Edge of Light (44 page)

“I know.” His lips were pressed against her hair,

“I want another baby, Alfred,” she said.

“Are you sure?” His voice was husky.

She closed her eyes. “You have been so good to me,” she said. “So patient.”

“Elswyth …”

She shook her head, wanting to finish what she had to say. “You see, I kept thinking that having another baby would be like a betrayal. And I didn’t
want
another baby. I wanted Cedric.” She opened her eyes. “But now I do.”

He didn’t answer, but his arms about her tightened.

“Oh, God,” she said, “I never thought it would be so hard to lose a child!”

By autumn the capitulation of Mercia was complete. Ceolwulf had been recognized as king by most of the Mercian bishops and ealdormen and the country was technically at peace. The Danish leaders at Repton were well-pleased with their achievement in Mercia and turned their attention to the two English kingdoms they had not yet successfully conquered: Northumbria and Wessex.

“We have been in the field here in England for nigh on ten years now,” Guthrum said to Erlend as they sat together one September night before the fire in the royal hall of Repton that had once housed Mercia’s kings. “The men grow weary. They have gold enough. It is land they want now. They wish to settle down, farm their own land, have their own sons. It is time to finish this war.”

“Easy to say,” Erlend murmured, “Perhaps not so easy to do. The moment you turn your back upon either Northumbria or Wessex, you are like to have a rebellion on your hands.”

“We are going to split the army,” Guthrum said. “Halfdan will reconquer Northumbria and begin to settle our people there. It should not prove too difficult.”

“Split the army!” Erlend’s eyes were wide and very green. “Who will take the other half?”

He knew the answer before ever he saw Guthrum’s white smile. “I will,” said his uncle. “And once the rest of the kingdoms are secure, then I will deal with Wessex.”

In 875 the Danes reconquered Northumbria. The half of the army that had gone north with Halfdan wasted all the lands of Bernicia and fought also against the Picts and the Strathclyde Welsh. Then, when Halfdan had deemed the borders of Deira secure, he parceled out to his men the lands in the area of York, and Danish soldiers began to plow and to till the soil which once had been farmed by Englishmen.

It was also in 875 that Guthrum, after robbing as much of Mercia’s wealth as was humanly possible, moved his army to Cambridge and settled there to finish the rape of East Anglia. By the end of the year East Anglia was also under the rule of a puppet king.

By the start of 876 there was but one independent English kingdom left in all the island, and that kingdom was Wessex.

“Papa is back!” Two children on almost identical fat gray ponies watched as a line of fifty or so men came into view. The top of the Down made an excellent viewing post for the road that led to Wantage, and Flavia and Edward had no doubt as to the identity of the party traveling along at such a steady, even trot.

“I thought he was never coming home,” Flavia complained. “My new tooth will be in before ever he sees the hole where the old one came out.”

Edward flashed his sister a grin. “Race you?” he challenged, and before she could reply, he had kicked his pony into a gallop and charged down the sloping hill at full speed. Flavia was after him in an instant.

Alfred recognized a landmark clump of beeches and thought with pleasure that he would be at Wantage within the half-hour. He had been gone nearly six weeks, and the closer he got to Elswyth, the more he let himself think about how much he had missed her.

He stretched his tired back, then stood a little in his stirrups to stretch his legs as well. He turned his head to say something to Brand, who was riding beside him, and saw his children tearing toward him down the grassy hill that sloped to the road. He put up a hand to halt the men behind him, and said to Brand, “I hope they can stop those ponies before they come crashing right into us.”

Brand brought his bay to a halt beside Alfred’s stallion and turned to look toward the flying gray ponies. “Holy God,” he said.

“Papa! Papa!” Edward glanced up long enough to wave, and in that second Flavia caught him. Her pony came tearing up to the edge of the road and stopped so abruptly that he almost came to his knees. Flavia’s little rear end stayed glued to the saddle and she leaned back to help the pony recover his balance. Then she looked to her father with a triumphant smile. Alfred noticed immediately that she was missing one front tooth.

“I won!” she said. Then, in quite unnecessary explanation: “We were having a race, Papa. I am glad you are back.”

“No fair!” Edward cried heatedly, having arrived but two seconds after his sister. “I would have won if I had not waved to Papa.”

“You had a head start,” Flavia said.
“That
was unfair.”

“Greetings, Papa,” Edward said, ignoring his sister and giving his father a pleased smile. “Did you kill any Danes?”

“No, Edward, I did not even see any Danes,” Alfred replied. He looked from Flavia’s untidy golden head to Edward’s equally tangled silver mop. “I think the both of you had better fall in here with me. It is getting late.”

The two fat ponies came down onto the road and Brand dropped back to let the children have the place beside Alfred. The cavalcade began to move forward once more, this time at a walk. Alfred said to his daughter, “You appear to be missing something, Flavia.”

She grinned hugely, showing off” the gap in her teeth. “It fell out, Papa. And a new one is growing in. Look!” She stood in her stirrups and held her small face up to his.

Alfred leaned down from his stallion to examine her mouth. Sure enough, there was a little razor-sharp white tooth pushing up from beneath the pink gum. He ruffled her hair and said, “You are growing up, Flavia.”

“Me too!” Edward said from Flavia’s other side. “My tooth is wobbly too.”

“It really isn’t, Papa,” Flavia said in a lowered voice.

“It is too!” came the indignant howl from her brother.

Alfred said, “How did you two come to be out on the Downs by yourselves? I thought I told you always to have an adult with you when you go out riding.”

“One of your thanes did come with us, Papa,” Flavia said with the guileless face that always meant she was up to mischief. “But he fell into the stream and got all wet. We told him to go home. You would not have wished us to keep him out in the cold wind in wet clothing, would you?”

Alfred looked down into his daughter’s brilliant blue-green eyes. Then he looked at his son. Identical eyes, identical innocent expression. He decided not to ask how the thane had come to fall into the stream.

“That was most thoughtful of you, Flavia,” he said instead, his face grave. “What poor thane fell into the stream?”

“Athelwold,” she said triumphantly.

Edward gave a wicked chuckle. “Mama will be so pleased,” he said, and behind Alfred, Brand began to cough.

“How is Mama?” Alfred asked, ignoring the convulsions of his companion thane.

“Very well,” Flavia said.

“She spends too much time with that baby.” This was Edward. He was finding it difficult to relinquish his five-year-old position as privileged younger to his three-month-old sister.

Alfred looked thoughtfully at his small son’s indignant face. “Babies are time-consuming,” he agreed. “But when you were a baby, Edward, you also took a great deal of Mama’s time.”

“I think we should give the baby back,” Edward announced. “She is funny-looking and she cries too much.”

“You can’t give a baby back!” Flavia cried, horrified. “That is just stupid, Edward.”

“I am not stupid!” Edward shouted. “You are stupid. You and Mama. Stupid stupid stupid over that baby!” His face was becoming brick red.

“That is quite enough, Edward,” said Alfred in the clipped voice both his children knew. “The baby is your sister and she is most certainly staying. I am ashamed of you. Flavia was nice to you when you were a baby. She did not ask us to send you back.”

Edward’s mouth dropped open. “Send
me
back?” he said. “You can’t send me back. I’m a boy.”

“You are a boy,” Alfred agreed, “and as a boy it is your duty to be kind and generous to girls. That includes your baby sister.”

“Edward is just jealous because Mama is not paying so much attention to him now that the baby is here,” Flavia said, accurately if not very tactfully.

“Am not jealous!” Edward shouted, beginning to get red again.

“Edward,” said Alfred.

Edward swallowed. “Yes, Papa,” he said after a minute. Then, heroically: “I will try to be nice to the baby.”

“I like the baby,” said Flavia with a sunny smile. “I think she is sweet.”

Alfred was conscious of a desire to gag his daughter. Edward was jealous not only of Elswyth’s attention but also of Flavia’s. “That is nice,” he said dryly to Flavia. Then, deeming it best to change the subject: “How are your studies with Father Erwald progressing?”

“I have learned all my letters, Papa!” Edward said proudly. “And so has Flavia.”

Alfred smiled at his children. “That is the best news I could hear,” he said, and two small complacent faces beamed back.

“Ethelred told me that Athulf is still a hostage with the Danes,” Alfred said to Elswyth two hours later when they were in their sleeping chamber, alone save for the baby sleeping in her basket. “But he is safe. Apparently Ceolwulf has assured Ethelred of that.”

“He has been prisoner for near two years now,” Elswyth said. She was sitting on the side of the bed watching him sort through his charter chest. “It is too long, Alfred. I am afraid for him.”

He gave up seeking in the chest, closed it, and turned to look at her. He sighed. “I know, my love. But there is naught I can do. He is being held to keep Ceolwulf loyal. This Guthrum who leads the Danes now will not give him up to me.”

She made no reply, just looked at her lap. After a minute she asked, “Ethelred is still in London?”

“Yes. The Danes have been busy securing the valley of the Trent, and for the moment Ethelred has command of London. And command of the Thames.” Alfred thought of the plans he and Ethelred had laid for the barricading of the river and permitted himself a small smile of satisfaction. Then, when Elswyth said nothing: “Some of the Mercian clergy have declared for Ethelred, Elswyth, and one other of the ealdormen. So you see, all is not lost.”

At last she looked up. Her eyes glittered. “I will never forgive Ceolwulf, Alfred,” she said through her teeth. “Never!”

“None of us will,” he agreed. He watched her white, tense face, frowned, and sought to change the subject. “I see Edward is still jealous of the baby,” he said.

“He will get over it.” The look on her face had not altered.

His frown deepened. He knew she was worried about Athulf. One of the reasons Alfred had ridden all the way to London from Southampton had been to secure news of Athulf for Elswyth. But there was nothing he or anyone could do for Athulf. It was this very helplessness, of course, that was so frustrating Elswyth.

Alfred went to look into the baby’s basket. His new little daughter was sleeping peacefully, her long black lashes lying quietly against the translucent skin of her cheeks. He thought she looked as if she would be quiet for some time yet.

He turned back to his wife. “It was bad enough that Ceolwulf should betray Mercia,” she said. “But to betray Athulf!”

They had been through this endless times before, and Alfred had other things on his mind just now. He tried once again to change the subject. “I was not pleased to see Flavia and Edward riding unattended today, Elswyth. I do not think it is safe.”

He watched her face as his words registered, “Nonsense,” she said. “Those ponies are perfectly reliable.”

“The ponies may be reliable. The children are not. God knows what mischief they might get into if there is no adult present with sense enough to hold them back.” He was careful to keep his voice low so as not to wake the baby.

“I did send someone with them, Alfred,” she began a little defensively, but he cut in.

“I said an adult with sense. Athelwold is not such a person.”

A smile of unholy delight lit her face, He had known the thought of Athelwold’s fate would cheer her. “They dumped him into a stream,” she said. “He was furious.”

“I am sure he was,” Alfred replied. He moved away from the baby’s basket in the direction of the bed. “I do not like Athelwold either,” he said, “but take care how you antagonize him, Elswyth. He has yet some power in Dorset, and I need my kingdom united if I am to face the Danes once more.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Alfred,” his wife said. “I cannot conceive of any man stupid enough to choose to follow Athelwold over you. And I think the children were splendid to dump him into the stream.”

He sat down beside her and looked into her eyes. “How did they do it?” he asked.

She told him.

“Poor Athelwold,” he said, and his lips twitched.

Elswyth grinned. “Flavia and Edward are such fun,” she said. “I hope little Elgiva turns out as well.”

“She is going to look like you, and she will probably be the worst terror of them all,” he replied promptly.

“That would be nice.”

He put his hand on her shoulder and gently rubbed a finger against her slender white neck. “I missed you,” he said softly. “Did you miss me?”

“Sometimes,” she replied, looking at him out of the side of her eyes. The corners of her mouth curled faintly downward.

“When did you miss me?” His hand slid down her shoulder to her arm, and then he was pressing her backward, his own body coming over hers. She let him lay her on the bed. He bent over her, bracing himself with both hands on either side of her shoulders. “When, Elswyth?” he asked again, his voice much huskier than usual.

“Hmm.” She looked up into the face that was now so close to hers. They had not made love since the birth of the baby. At first she had been too sore, and then he had been away seeing to his ships. She looked at him now and saw the naked desire staring at her from his narrowed eyes.
Her
lips parted slightly and all thoughts of Athulf and her children fled. “At night,” she murmured.