Born of the Sun

by Joan Wolf

  "What about the cattle that belong to the Britons?" said Cuthwulf to Ceawlin.

  "The Britons who live in Wessex are my subjects too. You will return all the cattle."

  Cuthwulf cursed, got to his feet, and left the fire.

  "You should have waited," Cutha said to Ceawlin in the sudden silence. "He has done you a great service, Ceawlin. You might have given him a chance to relish his victory."

  Ceawlin's eyes still glittered. "I told him," he said to Cutha, and his voice was cold. "I told him before ever I sent him east that the cattle were not his. He knew. He had no right to promise them to his men." The silence around the fire was heavy. Then Cutha got to his feet and left to join his son. Sigurd put his head into his hands and stared at the ground.

  * * * *

  Aethelbert awoke the morning after the Battle of Odinham to discover that Ceawlin had gone. Edric was grim-faced and dour when told the news, but Aethelbert perceived it differently from his brother-by-marriage. "He did not wish to meet me again," he declared. "It was only luck that Sigurd came up at the last moment like that. It took the heart from our thanes. They did not know how many more fresh assaults they would have to withstand."

  "It certainly took the heart from our troops, my lord," said Edric. "But I doubt if Ceawlin's departure has aught to do with fear."

  "His victory was merely luck," Aethelbert repeated. "The rain was in our faces and then his men came up just in time."

  The rest of the East Anglian eorls seconded their king. Edric looked bleakly over the field where men were at work burning the East Anglian dead. The fools, he thought. Ceawlin had beaten them. They had been three men to every one of his, and he had beaten them. And now he had gone to cut off their chance of joining up with the forces from Kent.

  "In fact," said Aethelbert with sudden passion, "we are the ones left holding the field. By all the laws of battle, we may claim the victory."

  It was pointless to argue, Edric thought. Nothing he said would alter Aethelbert's vision of himself as a great warrior. He could only hope that Oslaf and Cnebba had been successful against whoever it was that Ceawlin had sent to deal with them. That Ceawlin had sent someone, he had no doubt. He had fought against Cynric's son for so long that he thought he probably knew Ceawlin's mind better than any one of Ceawlin's own eorls.

  "We will march for Kent tomorrow, when we have given honor to our dead," said Aethelbert. "Once we have joined forces with my kinsmen, there will not be luck enough in the world to enable Ceawlin to withstand us."

  It took Aethelbert's war band two days to cover the twenty miles that Ceawlin had covered in one night. When they were five miles distant they learned that Ceawlin was awaiting them at Gild Ford. Then they learned of the defeat of Oslaf and Cnebba.

  "We must fight," Edric said as the East Anglian eorls took council together. "If we turn back, he will only follow. And Penda bars the way back to East Anglia." He looked around the circle of gloomy faces. "The odds are even, my lords. He does not have advantage of us that way."

  "We could not defeat them when we outnumbered them," one of the eorls said heavily. "How are we to beat them now?"

  The myth of an East Anglian victory at Odinham could not weather the reality of Ceawlin and four hundred West Saxons staring them in the face.

  "They had luck on their side last time," Edric said. He infused his voice with as much confidence as he could muster. "Come, my lords! Is East Anglia to be frightened by a battle against equal odds?"

  "Of course not!" said Aethelbert, his passionate heart stirred by Edric's words.

  The rest of the eorls agreed, although with noticeably less enthusiasm.

  The Battle of Gild Ford was fought the following day and was a rout for the East Anglians. Aethelbert's men crumbled under the weight of the West Saxon charge. After less than ten minutes the East Anglian lines had broken up into swarms of fleeing thanes. Ceawlin gave the order to pursue, and slaughter was done as the West Saxons mercilessly cut down the fleeing East Anglians. By day's end the fields around Gild Ford were heaped with the slain.

  When night fell, Aethelbert, who had got away on horseback, was safely in Kent. But the army he had brought so proudly from East Anglia lay in bloody ruins on the soil of Wessex. The king returned to Sutton Hoo, a reluctant herald of disaster. Not only did he have to tell his sister that her hopes of winning a throne for her son had perished at Gild Ford; he had also to tell her that Edric, her husband, was dead.

  * * * *

  Ceawlin returned to Winchester with his eorls and his thanes after sending a messenger north to tell Penda that the threat from East Anglia was over. Word had gone before them of the king's victory, and most of the population of Winchester-Venta lined the road to welcome their defenders.

  Sigurd rode with his father, one on either side of the gold-helmeted king. Cuthwulf had not accompanied the army back to Winchester; directly after the battle he had taken his men and returned to Banford, which manor he held for his father while Cutha remained in his hall at Winchester. When first Sigurd had learned that Ceawlin meant to give Cuthwulf command of the expedition to Kent, he had been pleased. His brother's growing discontent had been an increasing worry to him, and such a command was certain to placate Cuthwulf's pride. Now he was not so sure that Ceawlin's choice of Cuthwulf had been the honor Sigurd had originally deemed it. He was afraid rather that Ceawlin had bestowed it as a final test of Cuthwulf's allegiance; and he feared further that it was a test that Cuthwulf had failed.

  Edith welcomed her husband with such heartfelt thanksgiving that Sigurd felt ashamed he had thought of her so little. The twins came running to fling their little arms around his legs, and his heart swelled with love as he stooped to encircle their sturdy little bodies with his arms. His love for his children was spontaneous, unshadowed—the only love he knew, he sometimes thought, that was untainted by guilt.

  The night of their return to Winchester, Ceawlin held a huge victory feast in the great hall, which was crammed beyond capacity with the eorls who had returned with the army and their thanes, as well as the hall thanes belonging to Ceawlin himself. Alric outdid himself with his commemorative song. He could have heard the details of the battles only a few hours before, yet he had it all down in glorious music; Sigurd's own rescue march came in for great play.

  "How did he manage it so quickly?" Sigurd asked Ceawlin across Niniane's empty seat.

  Ceawlin grinned at him. "I sent someone back to Winchester right after the battle to regale Alric with the tale. I wanted him to be ready."

  Sigurd started to laugh. "Gods. Do you never forget anything?"

  "Rarely," Ceawlin answered, and turned to join in the chorus that was calling for a repeat of the song.

  "Oh, Sigurd, that was wonderful." Edith's blue eyes were shining as she regarded her hero-husband. "You saved the king's war band. I am so proud of you."

  The smile he gave her was faintly crooked. "Are you, Edith?"

  "Oh, yes."

  Her thin, fragile hand was lying on the table and he patted it gently. "I'm glad," he answered.

  The singing continued and the wine passed around and around the hall. Then Alric retired to enjoy the wine cup himself and the roar of male voices and male laughter rose to the rafters. Bertred and Wuffa and Gereint were sitting on the other side of Edith, and Sigurd could hear them reminiscing about their days of chasing around Wessex after Edric. They were all eorls, all save Gereint, who had refused to accept the Saxon title in deference to his father, and all ruled over the large numbers of slaves and ceorls and thanes that were attached to their manors; yet tonight they sounded like boys again as they relived their coming-of-age exploits with Ceawlin.

  "I think it is time for me to retire," Edith said in Sigurd's ear.

  He laughed. "Yes. It is getting rather noisy." Around the hall the other women and girls were standing, making ready to depart, to leave the hall to their wine-guzzling men.

  "Will you be coming soon, my love?"

  H
er blue eyes were so hopeful. Sigurd felt the familiar stab of guilt and said heartily, "Of course. Do not go to sleep just yet."

  She smiled at him, her pretty face lighting to radiance. As she walked away Sigurd chanced to turn his head, and Ceawlin caught his eye.

  "Lucky man," Ceawlin said. "The rest of us have wives at too great a distance this night."

  "There are willing women enough in Venta!" Wuffa called, overhearing Ceawlin's comment, and the men at the first table roared with approval.

  "Not for the king," Sigurd heard himself saying.

  There was a faint flicker of surprise in Ceawlin's eyes. Then Bertred said, "Ah, well, Niniane is worth the waiting for." He grinned, leaned around Sigurd, and said to Ceawlin, "Do you remember how she made us dig in the fields like slaves all that summer at Bryn Atha?"

  "Do I not," Ceawlin said with feeling.

  "Well, I will tell you this," said Wuffa boisterously. "Because of that summer, I can tell when my own coerls are slacking off. I know when a field is due to be harvested!"

  "Do you remember ..." Gereint said, and the old comrades were off on another round of reminiscences of bygone days. After half an hour, Sigurd left to go to his wife.

  * * *

  Chapter 28

  The sun was shining the day the queen returned to Winchester. Sigurd was with his father at the armory when he heard the shouts.

  "Niniane is back," Cutha said, and did not look at Sigurd.

  "Yes." Sigurd continued to watch the thanes stacking the shields and swords and bows they had taken from the field at Gild Ford. Then, after a minute, "I'd better go. Ceawlin is not here this morning. I'll be back shortly." Cutha watched his son's figure all the way to the door, a frown between his high-arched brows.

  There was quite a procession coming up the street and Sigurd saw immediately that Penda was riding beside Niniane. He stood in front of the great hall and watched the horses slowly advancing toward him.

  Suddenly a small figure ran into the street crying "Mama!" Sigurd recognized Ceowulf's bright blond head and ran forward himself as the small boy crossed into the path of the oncoming horses. Then Cerdic and Crida appeared, following Ceowulf but walking more slowly. Cerdic had his two-year-old brother on his shoulders in the same way that Ceawlin had always carried his boys, and as Niniane's horse came to a halt her sons surrounded it. Sigurd slowed his own steps and moved to join Penda.

  "I decided to escort the queen myself," Penda said as he jumped to the ground from his horse's back. He gave Sigurd a regretful smile. "I wanted to hear the whole tale firsthand. I gather you beat Aethelbert pretty decisively."

  "We annihilated him," Sigurd said.

  "And I missed it." The regret was even more noticeable.

  Sigurd smiled. "You more than did your part, Penda." But his eyes were no longer on his brother-by-marriage; they were on Niniane as she was preparing to alight from her horse. "Let me," he said quickly and moved forward to lift her from the saddle.

  Her waist was reed slim under his hands and she smiled up at him once she was on her feet. "Thank you, Sigurd."

  "Mama! Mama!" Her youngest was holding out his arms to her and she reached to take him from Cerdic, saying, "You should not carry him like this, Cerdic. You could drop him. He is no lightweight anymore."

  "I can carry him, Mother," Cerdic said impatiently. "He likes it." Then, in a burst of wounded feeling, "Father made us stay here in Winchester the whole time! We missed all the fun, Mother!"

  Niniane laughed. "You sound remarkably like someone else I know," she said, and looked mischievously at Penda.

  The eorl smiled back reluctantly. "Women never understand these things," he said.

  "Well, that is a true word," she replied. Then, to Crida, "Where is your father?"

  "He was judging a dispute in Venta this morning, Mother," Crida answered. "We did not know that you were so close to Winchester."

  Niniane reached out to ruffle his shining fair hair and he ducked his head away from her hand, self-conscious of his mother's caress in front of the men. "Come along inside," she said to her sons, "and tell me what you have been doing while I was away." She bent to put little Sigurd on his feet, then took up his hand and began to walk toward the king's hall.

  "Ceowulf," Sigurd said softly as the children turned to follow their mother. Ceawlin's third son turned to look at him inquiringly. "Do not run out in front of horses like that. You could frighten them. You would not want your mother to be thrown, would you?"

  "My mother has never fallen from a horse," Ceowulf replied scornfully.

  "Sigurd is right," said Penda. "You could get yourself trampled, running in front of horses like that, Prince."

  "All right," said Ceowulf, anxious to be off and clearly not relishing this rebuke from his father's eorls. Without waiting to give them a chance to say more, he turned and ran after his brothers.

  Penda shouted to the men who had ridden in with him to take the horses to the stables, then turned back to Sigurd. "Come into my hall with me. I want to hear all about the battle," he said, and Sigurd obligingly fell into step with him as they crossed the courtyard.

  * * * *

  Ceawlin did not arrive back in Winchester until late in the afternoon. Niniane was in the women's hall with Nola. When Ceawlin had first become king, Niniane had seen to it that the bower girls were all offered decent marriages, either to thanes or to tradesmen from Venta. Nola had not married, however, had chosen to remain in Winchester as Niniane's chief handmaid, and she had long been in charge of the women's hall and the bower. Niniane was consulting with her this afternoon about a possible marriage for Brynhild, one of the bower maidens, when Brynhild herself came into the hall with two other girls and said, "My lady, the king has just ridden in."

  Niniane's face lighted to beauty. "I'll speak with you about this again tomorrow, Nola," she said, smiled briefly at the three young faces she saw staring at her, and walked to the door of the hall. The three thanes' daughters who were under Nola's charge immediately went out to the porch, from which point they would have a good view of the courtyard.

  The breeze was lifting Ceawlin's hair from his shoulders, and the color of his eyes was visible all the way to the porch of the women's hall. He had seen his wife, and as the girls watched, he swung down from his horse, threw his reins to a groom, and enveloped her in a ruthless embrace.

  Merta, the youngest and most impressionable of the girls, sighed longingly. "She is so lucky," she said, wide eyes on Niniane, who was now laughing up into her husband's face.

  "It isn't fair," the second girl answered. "No matter how fine a husband we may get, still there will never be another man like the king."

  "How does she do it?" Brynhild, the eldest, repeated the most-oft-asked question in all the women's hall. "How does she bind him to her? A man like that ... how does she do it?"

  "It is very simple, really." The girls had not heard Nola come out onto the porch and they all jumped guiltily at the sound of her voice. "He loves her," said Nola. "That is all it is."

  "But why, Nola?" asked Brynhild suddenly. "I like Niniane, I think she is very pretty, and for certain she has been a good wife to him, a good queen. Yet the same could be said for many wives, and their husbands do not honor them as the king does Niniane."

  Nola looked at the three young faces that were regarding her so wistfully. It was true that Ceawlin had set a standard for husbands that most men would find it hard to follow. Nola smiled a little wryly. "That I cannot tell you." Her own eyes followed the retreating figures of the king and queen. "He was not always of so faithful a nature," she said. "I remember well the days of the old king, when the women in the bower would kill to get a call to go to Ceawlin's bed. But all that has changed since he took Niniane to wive."

  Merta's eyes were enormous. "Nola, did you ever ... ?"

  "Enough of this talk," Nola snapped, jerking her eyes back to the girls. "It is lucky for you that things have changed, that you have a Christian queen who thinks
it important that the honor of the girls under her care be safeguarded. Now you have the chance of making good marriages, bearing children who will carry on the honor of their fathers' names and lands. It is a good thing for all of us women that Niniane is queen in Winchester."

  "Yes, Nola," the girls chorused in hasty agreement.

  "I thought I had sent you to the dye house."

  "Yes, Nola. We are going." And the girls fled from the hall and from the suddenly fiery look in Nola's brown eyes.

  * * * *

  Sigurd pushed the platter away from him and drank a long draft from his wine cup.

  "What is the matter, Sigurd?" It was Niniane's husky voice and he forced himself to look at her and to smile.

  "Nothing," he answered with effort. "I am just tired, that is all."

  Her slate-blue eyes searched his face. "You do look tired. Are you certain you are not ill?"

  "Quite certain, Niniane. Don't fuss over me. I am perfectly fine."

  Her eyes flickered a little at the unaccustomed irritation she heard in his voice. He could see that he had not convinced her, but she turned away as he had requested and gave her attention once more to Edith, who was sitting on her other side.

  Sigurd himself did not understand what was the matter with him, why he was suddenly finding it so impossible to sit here with Ceawlin and Niniane in the familiar intimacy of the king's hall. Ceawlin had invited Penda to sup with him, and Sigurd and Edith as well; it was not an unusual invitation. There was no reason for Sigurd to suddenly feel that he could do it no longer—sit with her and talk with her and watch her and pretend that he did not care.

  She and Edith were talking of their children. He pretended to listen to Ceawlin but in reality he heard only the soft voices of the women as they shared their favorite remedies of what to do for a child who is cutting a tooth. Edith's voice was faintly stiff. She had never been comfortable with Niniane. Sigurd sometimes feared that she suspected that his own feelings for the queen were deeper than they should be. It was certain that Niniane went out of her way to be kind to Edith; there was no other reason for his wife to be always so mistrustful of Niniane's obvious goodwill.