by Millie Thom
Ealhswith watched Alfred arrange his pallid face into the semblance of a smile. ‘We hope to take our leave within the next day or two, Aethelred,’ he said. ‘I just need a little time to allow those cursed oysters to be completely ousted from my gut.’
‘I do hope you realise exactly what you’ve taken on with my dear brother, Lady Ealhswith,’ Aethelred said, grinning at her. Alfred’s never been one to mince his words, so I hope his blunt descriptions of bodily functions don’t offend you. I’ve had to put up with them for years . . .’
‘I would be more offended if he were not plain-spoken, my lord. I, myself, do not believe in coating my words in honey. It serves no purpose, other than to deceive.’ Ealhswith glanced guiltily at Alfred, realising that, at that very moment, they were both deceiving the Wessex king.
‘Then, you’re more perfectly matched than I could have hoped,’ Aethelred replied with a sincere smile. ‘And I couldn’t be happier for you both. Marriages for the purpose of alliance making are all too often unhappy ones. But I can see that you two will get along famously.’ He paused and took a breath, as though about to add something else, but evidently deciding against it. ‘But, regarding the next few weeks,’ he resumed, ‘once you and your entourage have departed, I intend to move the court on to Wilton, as planned. We’ll be there until the end of August, when we’ll move on to Somerset. Wedmore’s a delightful estate in early autumn, and it’s over two years since we were there. You have my full leave, Alfred, to stay in Wantage throughout the summer. I know how much that vill means to you. But I want you at my side by September. Your advice and support are invaluable to me.'
*****
Wantage, Berkshire: July to late August 868
The long summer weeks passed by in a succession of fun-filled days, and warm, heady nights devoted to fervent lovemaking. Even the sprinkling of rainy days did nothing to mar Alfred and Ealhswith’s pleasure in each other. Alfred felt that his life’s deepest desire had been fulfilled. Ealhswith was all he could have ever hoped for in a wife, and he grudgingly acknowledged that he owed thanks to Burgred for suggesting her.
They had left Sutton Courtenay two days after the wedding feast – the gruelling pains having taken that long to abate – arriving at Wantage, a mere seven miles away, over three hours later. After years of travelling between the various royal manors with the Wessex Court, Alfred was accustomed to the trundling rate of wagons filled with servants and goods, and since the day was fine, there had been no real need for haste. He had entrusted their safe passage to his large entourage of mounted warriors, leaving himself and his exuberant wife free to enjoy the views as they rode.
The vill at Wantage had been Alfred’s natural choice of primary residence. It was one of several estates bequeathed to him in his father’s will, although they had all remained under the custodianship of the successive Wessex kings – Alfred’s older brothers – until he’d become a married man. But Wantage was special. Not only was it Alfred’s place of birth, he had spent many happy weeks here as a boy and his passion for the vill, and its lovely surroundings, had never waned. Another of his endowed estates was at nearby Lambourn, and Alfred had taken great pleasure in introducing his new wife to the reeves at each.
‘We must hope that the pains were simply caused by your own overindulgence, Alfred,’ Ealhswith remarked one hazy morning in late August as they rode across the Vale, heading for the chalk ridge, she on her tall dapple-grey, Alfred on an uncharacteristically well-behaved Caesar. Their mood was light-hearted as they tried to avoid thoughts of Alfred’s departure to Wedmore within the coming week. ‘It would seem to be the case. You’ve been quite well since I insisted you practise moderation in your intake.’
‘You’re a cruel woman, Ealhswith,’ Alfred moaned, his grin belying the grievance expressed in his words. ‘Starvation rations are fine for a while, but I can hardly forego my favourite foods forever.’ He glanced round to check that none of his escort of six was close enough to eavesdrop. ‘A man needs to eat well during the day in order to rut like a rampant boar all night. I swear, my lady, you quite wear me out with your demands. It’s a wonder no one has yet complained of my constant wailing for lenience every night.’
They burst out laughing at their own joy in life and heeled their mounts into a gallop, leaving the men trailing in their wake.
Horses picked their way along the old drovers’ route up the steep scarp slope, and, at the summit, with their backs to the sun climbing over the distant hills, the small cavalcade headed along the ancient pathway known as the Great Ridgeway. The soft breeze carried scents of late meadow flowers from the Downs rolling away to the south, whilst northward, settlements dotted the clay vale, some, like Wantage, sitting along the spring line, where rivulets of fresh water emerged from the scarp slope. Cultivated fields were interspersed with clumps of woodland, and cattle grazed on the lush pastures flanking the winding streams.
At the site of a strangely shaped horse carved into the chalky hillside, they dismounted to rest and drink their watered ale. ‘Appropriately called the White Horse,’ Alfred said sardonically, as Ealhswith walked around the figure, trying to fathom its odd shape. ‘I’m told it’s the emblem of some ancient tribe – the Artrebates, I think – who once occupied that hill fort up there,’ he added, gesturing to an ancient site on the nearby hillside. ‘It can be seen for miles across the Vale, perhaps a reminder of the tribe’s dominance over the region to any ill-intentioned trespassers. But it’s more likely to be simply a fertility symbol–’
Ealhswith’s suddenly giggled, and caught in her giddy mood, Alfred laughed too, although he’d no idea what he was laughing about.
‘My amusement confuses you, I see, husband,’ Ealhswith said, her eyes flashing green in the sunlight. ‘If I said that the Artrebates must have known something that we do not, would you be any the wiser? No? Then, if I added that I can verify the effectiveness of their fertility symbol, would you understand my meaning?’
‘You mean that you’re . . . ?’ Alfred blustered, dreading his interpretation of her words to be wrong.
Ealhswith’s joyful laughter soon had their escort laughing with her, and Alfred felt his spirits soar. ‘Yes, my lord,’ she said in respectful tones. ‘I do believe I am with child.’
Alfred hugged her until she squealed, then he turned and threw his arms out wide. ‘I’m going to be a father!’ he yelled.
The cheers of his men drowned out Alfred’s own whoops of joy.
Fifteen
Wantage, Berkshire: July 869
Her appetite at last sated, the two-month-old babe nestled against her young mother’s milky breast and nodded off. Ealhswith stroked the downy head, stifling a yawn and momentarily allowing her aching and gritty eyes to close. She smiled to herself, feeling the overpowering love for her tiny daughter envelop her and, not for the first time, finding it hard to believe that this small gift of life had been given to her. Or that she found motherhood so agreeable.
She contemplated whether or not to risk getting out of bed and returning Aethelflaed to her crib, since more often than not, the mere act of doing so was enough to rouse the child and set her chuntering again. She glanced at her husband, sleeping now beside her. Alfred had only recently climbed into bed, having spent the night pacing the small hall beyond their sleeping chamber, battling the pains in his lower belly. He’d suffered three more bouts of this strange affliction since their wedding feast, yet still his physicians could offer no relief from the debilitating pains. Alfred simply had to bear the agony whilst the episodes ran their course, and hope for a couple of months’ respite before the ailment struck again.
Outside, the first songbirds would soon be greeting the dawn, and Ealhswith was determined that Alfred would have a few hours, sleep, at least until the mid-morning meal. Tomorrow would be the third day of his current affliction, and if it followed its usual pattern, the pains would be greatly assuaged when he awoke. Then, perhaps he’d manage to swallow a morsel or two before Kenri
ck, the Wantage reeve, arrived to discuss issues concerning the running of the estate. Nothing but drinks had passed Alfred’s lips during the past two days.
Determined not to disturb her husband, Ealhswith crept out of the marital bed, still cradling the slumbering babe. In the semi-darkness, she headed for the curtained doorway, picking up her daytime robes from a low chest on the way. In the small hall beyond, she laid her precious bundle gently in a wicker rocking chair, keeping the chair in motion with her foot as she donned her robes. She had no intention of crossing to the main hall in her nightgown. Servants would probably already be about their chores, and she needed to retain a certain degree of decorum. She was the wife of the Wessex king’s brother, after all.
Ealhswith had rarely been parted from Alfred during the first year of their marriage, since she accompanied him to the Wessex Court whenever his presence was required. But that would change now she had a young babe. It would hardly do if all of King Aethelred’s attendant nobles towed wives and children along every time they served at court. The men had affairs of state to attend to, after all. Besides, she told herself, knowing full well that Aethelred generally granted any request from Alfred, she didn’t want accusations of favouritism levelled at her.
Ealhswith dreaded the thought of being away from Alfred for weeks at a time, and consoled herself with the knowledge that at least she wouldn’t have to listen to Wulfrida’s constant advice any more. King Aethelred’s wife did rather like the sound of her own voice.
The main hall at Wantage was a tall and imposing building, barely yards from the less substantial structure that housed the sleeping chambers and small, private hall for Alfred and his family to use when they were in residence. The flickering of the newly lit hearthfire and the warm glow of oil lamps greeted Ealhswith as she entered. She smiled at the serving women who were already sorting through skeins of wool for their morning’s weaving, and headed for a quiet corner, away from the bustling work areas. There she laid Aethelflaed gently in her cradle, rocking it to and fro for some moments before sinking to a chair beside it. The melodic sounds of the dawn chorus carried through the opened shutter, through which she contentedly watched the sky gradually lighten. It would be another warm, sunny day, she predicted; an ideal day for a peaceful ride across the Vale . . .
She was dreaming of how she and Alfred would teach Aethelflaed to ride, when her plump little nurse arrived.
Agnes shook her dark head, tutting as she headed across the hall. ‘My lady,’ she said, nodding curtly. Ealhswith watched as the round-faced nurse checked that Aethelflaed was asleep, stifling a smile as she waited for her to launch into the same old moan she’d had every day since the child’s birth. The middle-aged woman really was a treasure, and Ealhswith knew she’d be lost without her. Agnes took the welfare of her charges to heart, and fretted constantly if Ealhswith so much as yawned. And Alfred loved her. It seemed the chubby woman reminded him of his own childhood nurse, whom he’d truly adored.
‘You should still be fast asleep in your bed, my lady,’ Agnes started. ‘Surely, if the babe is still sleeping, you should be doing the same. Rising at this early hour means you’ll miss the precious resting time needful for you to produce sufficient milk for the child to prosper.’ Ealhswith opened her mouth to remind Agnes that she seemed to be producing gallons of milk, but wasn’t given the chance to speak. ‘And if you don’t produce enough for your child, you will need a wet nurse, like it or not. Then–’
Ealhswith held up her hand, desperate to get a word in, and Agnes closed her mouth. ‘Agnes, you know how much I enjoy feeding Aethelflaed myself. I’ll never need a wet nurse. You are all I need to help me through the day . . . Yes, I know you’d be there in an instant if I needed you at night, too,’ she added, as Agnes tried to interrupt. ‘But I love to sit in bed feeding her; I feel so closely bonded to her then. I know our daughter will grow up loving you dearly, just like Alfred loved his Edith. And should we be fortunate enough to produce further children, I know they will feel the same about you. A more devoted nurse, I could not ask for.’
Agnes looked at her thoughtfully. Then she smiled. ‘Forgive me, my lady, I’m just a born worrier. And I don’t like to see you looking tired out, not when I’m here to help you. I know you want to suckle the babe yourself, but if she becomes irritable, or simply wakeful, then you know I am here to take over for a while . . . give you some time to yourself.’ She was rabbiting now, and Ealhswith only half listened. ‘Babies take so much out of a mother,’ Agnes asserted. ‘I’ve had four myself, so I know that only too well! And, I can tell you, my lady, they won’t get any easier as they get older.’
Aethelflaed suddenly burst into full song and, when rocking the cot didn’t work, Agnes picked her up and walked her round the room. From experience over the past few weeks, Ealhswith knew her daughter wouldn’t sleep again for the next few hours, and she was happy to let Agnes do the jigging-up-and-down act for a while. Especially since Aethelflaed seemed to be enjoying it so much.
*****
Alfred woke with a start, immediately wondering how long he’d slept and what hour it was now. The next thing that entered his head was the realisation that the agonising pains had gone. Silently sending his thanks to God, he slid from beneath the furs and dressed.
It had been almost dawn by the time the pains had eased enough for him to even attempt to sleep. He’d known that Ealhswith was awake, but he said nothing for fear of rousing her still further. She’d probably have slept little herself, between worrying about him and the almost continuous rounds of feeds that Aethelflaed seemed to demand. Ealhswith had managed little sleep since the babe’s birth, and although her happiness at being a mother was evident, Alfred could see how tired she was.
He smiled at the thought of his tiny daughter, wondering whether her voracious appetite would continue as she grew, and suddenly realised how hungry he was himself. He headed across to the main hall, hoping the morning meal wasn’t yet over.
Kenrick and his wife, Gode, were chatting to Ealhswith as Alfred wandered over to join them at the meal table in the busy hall. One of the serving women noted his entry and ladled him out a bowl of pottage from the cauldron suspended over the firepit before collecting several chunks of freshly baked bread from the serving table. In a far corner of the hall, Agnes was rocking Aethelflaed’s cradle. Alfred grinned. From the mewling sounds coming from inside of it, his daughter was evidently not in the mood for sleep.
‘Good morning, my lord,’ Kenrick said as Alfred seated himself beside Ealhswith. ‘By the look on your face, you’re in fine spirits this morning. Can we safely assume that good health has returned with the new day?’
‘You most certainly can, Kenrick,’ Alfred replied, reaching out to squeeze Ealhswith’s hand as he noticed the look of relief on her face. ‘I feel ready to face anything today . . . even Aethelflaed’s bawling!’
‘The little one has an excellent singing voice, my lord,’ Gode said with a chuckle. ‘She’s been keeping us well entertained these last few days.’
‘If her crying bothers you, Alfred, I’ll pick her up,’ Ealhswith said quickly, making to rise. ‘I know how the noise can irritate after a while. She’ll shut up like a clam the moment I lift her up, you just watch. She’s got me wrapped around her little finger, all right.’
‘Our daughter’s voice is music to my ears,’ he jested, laying his hand on her arm to stay her. ‘Well, at least it doesn’t bother me – not yet anyway. Sit with me while I eat, Ealhswith. It’s funny how hunger doesn’t seem to register when you’re in pain. But right now, I really know I’m ravenous.’
Alfred enjoyed his meal while Ealhswith continued to speak quietly with Kenrick and Gode, occasionally directing the odd question his way, to which he could reply with a shake or nod of his head.
‘So what news have you got for me, Kenrick?’ Alfred asked, finally putting down his scramseax. ‘Anything of interest?’
‘Perhaps the imminent arrival of your brother, the king,
would be the most pressing, my lord,’ the reeve replied, matter-of-factly.
Alfred stared at him. ‘Just how pressing?
‘Probably late this afternoon, or early evening at the latest . . .’
Alfred’s golden eyebrows rose considerably as he shifted his gaze from the reeve to his wife. ‘How long have you known of this . . . and why wasn’t I informed?’
Ealhswith held up a hand as Kenrick opened his mouth to explain. ‘The answer to the first question, Alfred, is only since yesterday evening. King Aethelred’s messengers said the decision was an impromptu one following the cancellation of a journey to Kingston.’ Alfred nodded. ‘And the answer to the second query is surely obvious . . .’
Again, Alfred nodded. ‘It is, and I was foolish to ask. I was in such pain last night, I’d probably not have taken the information in if you had told me.’ He looked from one to the other and heaved a sigh. ‘My apologies to you all for sounding so petulant, especially after the way you’ve put up with me for the last few days. I–’
‘My lord, you’ve been no bother at all,’ Kenrick assured him, ‘although I do admit we’ve been worried about you – and are infinitely relieved to see you well again. And the visit will be quite an informal one, we’re told; just King Aethelred and Lady Wulfrida with their two young sons, and an entourage of perhaps thirty, including his bodyguards. I believe they intend to stay a mere few days before moving on to Wilton.’
The reeve smiled reassuringly. ‘So rest assured, my lord, Gode has all the domestic arrangements in hand. The cooks and servants have been making preparations since last night and the three bedchambers next to your own have already been prepared. A couple of servants will sleep in the little hall, just to be available should anything be required. Perhaps Lady Wulfrida may want a fire in the brazier before she rises. She may feel the cold, even if some people do not.’ He grinned at Ealhswith, who shrugged in all innocence.
