The Dream Weavers by Barbara Erskine (books you have to read txt) 📕

she knew, still in Mercia awaiting her father’s decision about whom she should marry. She had not really expected to hear from them. Their worlds were different now. She did not hear from her mother at all, beyond a baptismal gift for the child. The little girl was strong and bawled lustily, and life had settled into a routine with her nurses as slowly they travelled around her husband’s kingdom, feasting, hunting, in winter spinning and weaving, playing board games and listening to the tales of the scops, the travelling singers and poets who arrived from across the land. Besides those activities Eadburh joined more and more often in her husband’s meetings, enjoying the political thrust of court life, discussing politics with his ealdormen and thanes and at times calling discussions of her own, feeling more and more empowered as she pushed the limits of her influence to see how much free rein the king would give her, sensing the resentment of the men around her, but ignoring it with lofty disdain. The kingdom was at peace. There had been no further sightings of the heathen ships in the channel. All was well.

It was a shock when the letter came. She stared down at it, the words jumping in the candlelight, seeming to wriggle and writhe upon the page like a basket of snakes. Her husband had handed it to her when he found it amongst a bundle of letters in Offa’s messenger’s bag. She had been sitting by the fire playing with their little daughter. The letter was from Alfrida.

I was betrothed to a king at last. A boy king, some years younger than me, but I was assured good looking and already lusty. And he came from his kingdom of East Anglia, to our court at Sutton for the treaties and the wedding vows. And he was young but he was tall, and so handsome and gracious, sister mine, and kind and good and rich and strong amongst kings, and our mother saw him and she was bitterly jealous that I was to wed such a handsome lad, and she had him slain! Murdered! They cut off his head! Our father claims Mama had discovered a plot to assassinate him, but that is untrue. I know her and her insatiable lusts. She could not bear for me to be happy and free!

Alfrida had written with such force the nib of the quill had torn through the parchment.

I am no longer a daughter of Offa and our mother is as dirt beneath my feet. Beware lest they betray you too. I am going to my promised husband’s kingdom and there I will give myself to God. I will no longer be a piece on my father’s gaming board.

Bless you, my sister and may God give his protection to you and to my little niece. You will not hear from me again.

Eadburh’s hands were shaking as she read the last words. ‘What is it, Wife?’ She hadn’t realised that Beorhtric was watching her. He threw down the document he was reading and reached out for her letter. She handed it to him without protest, too shocked to speak.

He read it twice then put it down on the table. ‘I trust she cut the throat of the scribe who wrote these words for her,’ he said coldly. He paused then he went on, ‘I have a missive from your father on the same matter. His version of the story speaks of East Anglian treachery and betrayal.’

‘And who do you believe?’ She did not tell him that Alfrida’s letter had not been written by a scribe. She recognised her sister’s hand, with her anguish and fury portrayed in every line.

He sat back in his chair looking thoughtful. ‘I am your father’s ally.’

Eadburh beckoned the nurse who was hovering in the background and handed the baby to her, dismissing her curtly. ‘And so you are as ever bound to him hand and foot!’ She saw his expression darken. ‘Is it not true? You were, after all, given my hand as a bribe to keep you trotting at his heels.’

‘As your sister Ethelfled was given to the King of Northumbria. It is the way of kings.’ His voice was surprisingly gentle. ‘You knew why you and I were bound together. You and your sisters are peace weavers. I suspect your father’s version is the true one. He saw your sister as another link to a kingdom he saw as his ally, then he discovered treason.’

‘So he admits it? He admits murder? He didn’t send the boy king home, he had him executed in cold blood!’

‘It was the boy king who planned murder, Eadburh, and the queen who uncovered the treason. It is written here, plain.’

‘No!’ Her anguished denial rang out over the crackle and hiss of the logs in the central firepit. Silence fell in the mead hall as faces looked towards them and hastily looked away again. She was still holding the string of corals she had been dangling before her little daughter’s fascinated gaze. As the baby pulled at them the string broke and the beads rolled away onto the floor. She watched them as they came to rest. The boy who had arrived with a basket of logs for the fire put them down and bent to gather up the beads, but she gestured sharply that he leave them lying in the ashes.

‘My sister was in anguish when she wrote that letter,’ she cried.

‘King Offa will find her another mate.’

She looked up at him, her eyes narrowed. ‘So that’s it. We are mated like mares to a stallion. One mate does not suit so its throat is cut and another chosen.’ Elisedd too had been unsuitable and so had had to die. She fell silent as the flood of bitter memories overwhelmed her.

He smiled. ‘You are more than a mare, my queen. You advise me; you sign my charters as one of my council. You rule at my side as my